Yoga's like pizza...

even when it's bad, it's still pretty good.

I was on a mission to make it to a Bikram class at 5:30 after work. It'd had been more than a week since I last engaged in any sort exercise that could be considered rigorous. (I don't think a few lazy, breaststrokes in the ocean count for much.) I wasn't thinking my body would have much to give, but I had to get back to exercising sooner rather than later.

I was thrilled to show up and see the class was being led by my favorite instructor. Then I got another jolt of good news when I saw my favorite spot in the class was still empty! The sessions have been so full lately (almost, grossly so) and so I haven't had that ideal spot in months. Then on a totally superficial level, it was nice to stare at my tanned limbs in the mirror, instead of the pale appendages I was previous sporting before my vacation.

For the most part, I was just relieved to make it to the class. I sat down a couple of times when I felt too drained or lazy to really commit deeply to a pose. I actually did better in some poses than I was expecting. But Bikram's tricky like that. You never know when you'll be powering through and when you'll be wilting after half-moon pose. I usually love standing bow pose (see picture), but I couldn't hold my balance for nothing. Ugh, it was so dispiriting. Thankfully, I slogged though the 90 minute session without passing out.

I found I have 10 remaining classes on the pass I bought last November. Part of me is looking forward to giving my all for the last classes, but part of me will be thrilled when my package is used up and I can think about trying something new!

I love taking time off!

Jason and I returned from Florida around 1 a.m. on Wednesday morning. Even though the weather was wacky, we had a fabulous time frolicking in the sun, diving in the salt water waves, sipping Pacifico while staring at sandy beaches, drinking coffee with his mom on her lanai, gulping down burritos from our favorite, hippy, boardwalk restaurant, and cruising around the southwest landscape of Florida in the convertible Mustang that his Mom had rented for us. I'm exhausted now. There was no catching up on sleep while bits of sun were to be snatched here and there, gambling boat cruises were boarding, and our vacation days were finite.

I made a promise to myself before leaving that while I was there I wouldn't care about calories in my food, the number of beers that I enjoyed, the price of treats, or if I got a piddly, paltry amount of exercise. This was a vacation that I intended to enjoy to the fullest, and enjoy, I did.

But now we are back to Michigan. Back to covering up my newly-tanned legs with work pants. Back to office shoes while my oh-so-comfortable flip-flops pout at me from the corner of my closet. Back to drinking beer on the weekends while staring at parking lots. Back to watching the Southeast Michigan weather forecast and feeling nonplussed. Back to thinking it's time to clean the bathroom. Again.

But such is life. If I didn't have this job, I couldn't afford any vacations or new beach skirts. And at least I was lucky enough to have the paid-time off so that I could get away. And if I didn't stay committed to working out most of the time, I wouldn't feel as confident about myself in a scantily clad beach town. So, it goes. I'll be heading to yoga tonight. I will try to look forward to the intense heat and globs of sweat pouring off my skin. Maybe I will be reminded of the salty sweat and penetrating humidity of Fort Myers. So, it goes.

Here's my new favorite song to leave you with a summer skip in your step. FYI: It's not a video that I made. Enjoy!

Hardwired to exercise?

Why do people exercise? Why do some others not care? Is there a genetic predisposition that enables one person to drag themselves through a 100-mile race? What are the neurological or biological or physiological differences between me and Michael Phelps and the contestants on the Biggest Loser – before they get on the show?

I am fascinated by these questions because I don't think the answers are simple. Obviously, if I could figure out what triggers people to exercise, I could bottle that, and sit on a fortune twice the size of Oprah's. Is it a habit from learned behavior? I think that athletes have children who care about exercise and couch potato couples breed sedentary teens. But is that learned behavior because they are in a habit and a routine or were those people wired differently from birth? It's hard to separate the two. Isn't that the age-old nature versus nurture debate?

I don't think vanity is a tidy answer either. Do some of us exercise more when we see a bad picture of ourselves and then continue to do so when we see a great picture of ourselves, in the hope of keeping ourselves in shape? Yeah, I suppose I do that. But on the other hand, plenty of people see bad pictures of themselves and then make fun of their shape or size, while eating a burger from a fast food wrapper.

At times I have been rather glib and told people I exercise because it's cheaper than seeing a psychologist. What am I really saying when I make that statement? Do I think if I manufacture, store, and produce enough endorphins that I can keep depressive episodes at bay? Does that mean I constantly have a tug-of-war battling in my brain for my moods? That's almost kind of creepy. It's like saying mania or depression or rage is just a short cliff jump away and if I miss too many sessions at the gym, I'll turn into some monster or some weepy, self-pitying, helpless weakling. Although, honestly, there are times when those undercurrents seem strong and I want to avoid falling into them.

Are people who exercise more often generally happier? Or are they just more anal? I've often talked about my mom's mantra that says when you eat right, sleep well, and exercise, most things tend to fall into place. I grew up on that wisdom, but so did my sisters and brother and I don't think any of them are as compulsive as I am about working out. And I wouldn't say that I generally have a sweeter disposition than any of them.

I don't have any solid answers right now. I choose to work out for a variety of reasons. A part of it is vanity and how I want to feel when I look in the mirror. A part of it is competition and wanting to push myself to achieve something I didn't think I could, whether that is running 12 miles or doing bicep curls with 15lb weights or finally feeling at ease in triangle pose. A huge part is control. I realize that I don't have control over a lot of things in my life but working out is one arena where I have that. It's having to be accountable to myself when I look at my calendar.

For now, this post is unfinished as I ruminate on the topic further.

What happened to apple slices?

Statistics speak. Most adults do not meet their daily fiber requirements, which is 25-35 grams per day, depending on how much you weigh and if you are male or female. That's why we see commercials for Beneful, and Jamie Lee's yogurt for regularity and more and more ads that distastefully introduce us to everyone's personal bowel issues.


However, with Fiber Gummies, I think we have reached a new nutritional low in our culture. These are aimed at kids ages 2-11 to promote regularity. Although, their website claims this "is not a laxative." They say the fiber in three gummies is equal to one cup of corn. Well, what happened to eating corn? or apples? or bread? or cereal that is not saturated in sugars? These are actual foods. Do we really need to start our toddlers on vitamins and supplements at such an early age?


It's worth noting that I do not have kids and of course every childless adult is a great parent. (Yes, that was sarcasm.) But seriously, at least try masking the benefits of real food in home-cooked dishes. A great book is Deceptively Delicious where cauliflower is pureed into macaroni and cheese and kid-enticing brownies are packed with fiber from black beans.


Pushing pills, however rubbery and flexible they are, onto our children cannot be the answer.

Breakfast of the ancients with a modern twist

I call it "ancient" because it's a grain that has been a food staple since the Incas farmed their lands thousands of years ago. I sarcastically say modern because I used a stove. I'm a boring breakfast girl. I need to eat in the morning. I stay away from crazy sugars found in syrup and most breakfast cereals. More often than not, I consider my oatmeal my luxury and my base, depending on the accoutrements I throw into it.


Awhile back, I stumbled onto a flavorful and colorful quinoa breakfast recipe. This one calls for the red variety, which can be hard to come by (which explains why I saw the recipe months ago and just recently tried it). I had found a white version in an enormous bag at Meijer that was more money than I wanted to pay. Then I found a box of the red at a high-end grocery store.


Ingredients:
1c. red quinoa
1c. organic 2% milk
1c. water
2 tbsp. cinnamon
handful of berries (I used strawberries and blueberries)
a spattering of walnuts
1 tbsp agave nectar


Directions:
Combine equal parts quinoa, milk, and water in a saucepan. Bring to a boil and then let simmer 15 minutes until most of the liquid is absorbed. Add cinnamon and berries, cover, and let meld for one or two more minutes.


While the flavors are combining, throw your walnuts in a dry pan and roast them for a few minutes over medium-high heat.

Spoon the quinoa mixture into 2-3 bowls. Top with walnuts and agave nectar.

These grains really retain the heat, so either let it sit for a while or add a few splashes of milk so your mouth doesn't burn and end up tasting like rubber.