It has been an intense month or so since I last blogged...and published it. I lost someone who I loved and admired. I had, since I was a child, felt a part of his family as I grew up with his kids. I'd spent holidays laughing with him and his family, weddings, babies and everyday happenings filled the years...and then suddenly he was gone. It was crushing for me, but down right demolishing for my pseudo siblings. The experience was very difficult to say the least. I will spare you a long drawn out explanation of the weeks that have passed and get into the present and the reason you actually read this thing (thank you so much for doing so)...FUELING!
During hard times, working out seems like a complete joke. Yet, with time and distance, the distraction and exertion becomes welcome. Even for a self proclaimed lazy person such as myself, a workout of some sort needed to happen.
OK, let's clarify, obviously I never stopped "Fueling" because...we own a winery for one, wine is mourning's best friend, and lastly...my body might shut down if I did something so rash as to stop drinking.
Now back to my story. A few short runs in, I decided I might be part sloth. My running just gets slower each time I return to it! Since I am easily discouraged, and with my hormones raging (because it seems I am also going through very early menopause...or hell, I can't tell which) I decided a softer approach was needed. Yoga, yes yoga is going to be better.
Some of you may remember a somewhat recent blog about my experience with stinky yoga, so let me explain to you guys...I am SO lazy that returning to the packed room full of smelly people seemed like more of a possibility than running. See? Part sloth.
When you are unmotivated, depressed and have hormones raging, it is no surprise that your clothes may start shrinking on you. My workout clothes seem to have decided that they belong to my child because they gripped my fat in ways most unpleasant. As I wiggled into various yoga contortions, the said clothing rolled into rubber bands of pain. Various parts of my body became sausaged into bulging sections with each new position. I tried to quietly tug at the various scraps of cloth, hoping they would stretch to encompass the embarrassing naked skin now revealed to the world, but the more I tugged, the more I brought attention to myself and distracted the very serious yogis around me.
To add insult to injury (literally), the old lady in-front of me started farting. Not once, but every few minutes she just let it rip. I'm sure you are thinking to yourself that I should have simply moved my mat out of the current of her ass, but these classes are literally packed with extreme garlic eaters and do gooders so my only option would have been going to the front and center of the room...in my new rubber band fat revealing fun suit. I decided face full of fart was better than THAT misery.
All I can say is that that one hour yoga glass deserved a full dose of Fueling.
-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.VivacWinery.com
Running on Wine; from Marathons to Rafting to "Fueling" on the Patio, We are Fueled by Vivác.
