I turned 29 during a Sun Salutation. Time management is hard and I was less than halfway through my hour and a half P90X power yoga session when midnight struck and I sighed long and heavy as I lowered myself into chaturanga, pulled through upward dog, did an extra push up for good luck, and raised back into downward dog.
It was past 1 a.m. when I finally finished, turning off the dvd just before the Ohm’s started – the dog hates the ohms and was likely alert upstairs waiting for them anxiously, I could hear his collar jangle restlessly in bed – and I felt good. Not tired, as I’d somewhat hoped I’d still be when I finished, but at least relaxed and ready for some rest. The day had been spent with my parents, who’d driven up from Florida on their way to Boston for my birthday/mother’s day/hey it’s too hot in Florida-ness, and future mother-in-law. Everyone wanted to see where my s/o and I were getting married, meet the space’s event coordinator, meet the caterer, visit the hotel where I’d booked the block of rooms, and generally make sure I wasn’t ruining everything. I’ll yadda yadda yadda through the rest of it, and ultimately I came home with a to-go box of pizza and a headache around midnight.
This morning around 8 a.m. I called my dad to meet them at the hotel for breakfast before they hit the road for the final 12 hour stretch home.
“Did you do your weight lifting last night?” he asked, a jump in his voice like a joke.
“Last night was power yoga, I finished around 1 a.m. or so.”
“Why don’t you just do it earlier?” It’s a fair question. I’d like to. Somehow I used to be able to squeeze it all in in the mornings, eat a healthy breakfast, take the dog for a walk, go for a run and maybe write or submit a poem before getting ready for work. Now that time’s taken up with, hell, who knows. Longer walks? Unexpected phone calls? Day dreams? Certainly not poetry.
After breakfast, I dropped my s/o off at work and went to my Saturday morning yoga class. Today’s class was split into two sections, the yin and the yang. There were options towards the end, to stay in yin for those of us who needed to be grounded. Usually, I am the bozo bouncing around in crow pose and scissoring her way through the shoulder stand, but today I stayed in buddha squat, lotus, and just a plain fold with closed eyes while I listened, my mind an absentee ballot, to the thumps and exasperation of my fellow yogis. It was a good class.
In the sauna, because it was my birthday, I went topless (“Let em look!” I thought to myself, “I look pretty good for near 30.”) and read a whole book of poetry, Stefanie Wielkopolan’s Border Theory, and the binding melted away as I sweated these hard past 2 and a half weeks from my whole body.
Today, whenever I can get around to it, is Legs, Back and Ab Ripper X. I’ll do an extra pull up for good luck.