So like all the other plumpsters fresh into the new year, frustrated with my fatty flanks, I began to work out more seriously back in January. All the usual results followed. Things were going well. I was feeling better. I had more energy. I was starting to see progress and then shock of shocks…I fell off the fitness wagon. Actually, my cart of fitness flew off the road, crashed into a tree, flipped over three times, and launched me into a ravine filled with ice cream, potato chips, and homemade chocolate peanut butter eggs. At first I was like, “What good fortune!!” I quickly changed my mind when I found myself back where I started in January maybe even a little worse.
The thing is I still thought everything was going okay. The facts were muddled by an unusually cool spring that forced me to wear warm bulky layers much later into the season than usual. When spring finally sprung, I rapidly realized the error of my ways. When rising temperatures forced me to wear something other than a snuggly oversized sweatshirt and jeans or comfy flannel pants, the full implications of a doomed bathing suit season hit home. I would have had the same reaction if a small meteor had crashed through the roof of my house and landed in the middle of my living room. I could see it coming. It was obviously moving at a high rate of speed. It still seemed so far away. Then…KRACKO! I instantly became alarmingly aware that if I wasn’t willing to attempt to pull off the sausage casing look on the spring runway, I needed to take urgent and immediate action. So here I am.
I’ve been walking more. Not yet 10,000 steps more but I’m trying. I’ve been getting in a little strength training a few times a week. It’s been slow going. I’ve also managed to halt the avalanche of snacks that have been continuously rolling off the table into my mouth, followed closely behind by blobs of blubber that slowly filled the spaces where my abs once lived. This morning I thought I would dabble in a bit of yoga. Things were going well. I was feeling better. I had more energy. I was starting to see progress and then shock of shocks…a lawnmower slammed into my right ankle while I was in the bridge pose.
It was plastic of course, driven by a toddler who was laughing hysterically as he repeatedly rammed his little green plastic garden gadget into my Achilles. I tried to calmly explain that I was doing yoga and that I would be done shortly. He seemed satisfied with that response until a few moments later. While in downward facing dog pose, I felt the weight of twenty pounds of child standing on my fingers, wearing snow boots of course. I shrieked and pried my mangled digits from between the vicious disfiguring treads of his clod hoppers. And with that highly entertaining moment (for him of course, not me), a monster was born and the calm peaceful yoga routine as I once knew it would be gone forever. Midway into child’s pose, he decided it was the perfect opportunity to squeeze in a few Eskimo kisses. Too bad he misjudged the unusual angle of approach and gave me a skull rattling head butt instead. As I entered the sphinx pose, he jumped on the opportunity to attempt to mount a moving horse. Shooting pain in your spine is in no way soothing, but I pressed on, determined to make it to the end of the routine. How appropriate that during the final corpse pose he decided to give me a big hug which turned into a flying toddler body slam.
I would probably still be lying in a broken heap of busted limbs in the middle of my living room, but fortunately, the dog was able to dial 911 with her snoot and I am resting comfortably in the local hospital. I am typing this with my pinky toe as that is the only part of me that doesn’t hurt. They are considering a 302 as anyone who attempts to mix yoga and a toddler is surely certifiable. Since your house is toddler free, hopefully your experience will be more relaxing than mine. Here are a few yoga apps that you might find useful. I was enjoying Simply Yoga before disaster struck. As an extra precaution you may want to attempt this while your fur kids are napping just in case. A German Shepherd foot to the solar plexus could be just as devastating and a Maine Coon foot to the eye is not out of the realm of possibility. Although I hear jaunty little eye patches will be all the rage this fall. Hopefully, they will come in extra large as I am concerned about the longevity of my latest fitness endeavors. Hope that you are fairing better. May the flex be with you!