Om, my God

Over the past few months, I have been going to a yoga class every week. It's a nice escape for an hour, even if I have fallen at least once in each class. Yeah, that whole balance thing, which I no longer have, is kinda key in yoga. But it's all good, because for that one hour I get to block out everything else. I've come to value the time to slow down, breathe, and shut out everything else.

In fact, I enjoy it so much, that I thought maybe I would try to incorporate it more into my everyday life, sans the yoga studio and calming voice of my yoga instructor.

That was my first mistake.

So I grabbed a yoga CD I had gotten for Christmas, moved the living room coffee table out of the way, grabbed my mat, and fired up the video.

I had barely sat down to stretch when our dog began to tug at my mat. I corrected her and continued my practice. One move in, I looked over to see my daughter staring at me.

"Can I do it with you?"

I grumbled a bit, but said, "sure."

By pose two another kid had joined us. Two poses later I had four kids and a dog all attempting to do yoga with me. Suddenly, it occurred to me that if the whole point of yoga was to relax this was not going to work.

Not wanting to discourage my children's interest in exercise--and quite frankly annoyed by how bendy they all were as opposed to me--I kindly excused myself, went in the kitchen and got a bowl of ice cream. It seemed the next best means of relaxation and peace if I wasn't going to get to do yoga.

After I finished my ice cream, I decided to abbreviate my home practice and focus more on the meditative aspect of yoga. So I retreated to my room, closed the door, laid down on my bed, closed my eyes and tried to shut out the world around me. It didn't take long for me to realize my home was definitely not a yoga studio.

Before I could even chant my first "om," I was greeted with the screams of "mom." Close enough, I thought. So each time someone yelled "mom," I replaced it with "om" and went about my business.

I settled back into the restful pose and tried to focus on my breathing. As I inhaled, I smelled my daughter's new perfume--which she obviously really likes. On the exhale, I puffed out my cheeks in exasperation as I listened to my son and daughter bicker. Inhale--dirty diaper. Exhale--well, more of a sigh than an exhale.

The door creaked open.

"Mom," I heard in a voice that was trying to whisper, but was actually louder than a normal speaking voice. I laid still, hoping she would go away.

"Mom." No luck.

"Dad, I think something's wrong with Mom. She's not moving."

I opened one eye to glare at her.

"Never mind," she screamed. "She's alive."

 I rolled onto my side and asked what she wanted.

"Can I have a snack?"

"Go ask your dad," I said rolling back into corpse pose.

"He already said, 'no'."

"Then why are you asking me? Can't you see I'm busy?"

"Looks like you're just lying there doing nothing."

"I'm trying to meditate. Now go downstairs."

"What's meditating?"

"Obviously something I'm not going to get to do," I responded.

I rolled off the bed, put on my shoes, and headed downstairs where I grabbed my purse and keys. My husband asked where I was going, and I curtly replied, "To find a yoga class that doesn't allow anyone under 18."

Today is the Day

Tonight I am starting a sit-to-fit program. I know, it seems a bit ass backward considering I've already done the half-marathon, but I've never been one to do things normally. (My MS is a prime example of that.)

But I decided that I needed some structure. Lately it's been too easy for me to say, "I'll go to the gym tomorrow" or "I'll start eating better next week." No, it starts tonight...on a track...in the rain. And I'm thrilled. Especially about the running in the rain part. For some reason, the idea of it makes me feel fierce. Maybe it's just because I've seen one to many movies where athletes trained through the elements. We'll see after tonight if I have the same attitude when I'm soaking wet.

In order to prepare myself and reward myself for actually signing up, last night I created an "I'm awesome" playlist. This list joins the others on my iPod, such as "This song has no compelling message, but is good to exercise to," "I'm feeling sorry for myself," and "Why didn't Dexy's Midnight Runner's have more hits? Great '80 songs" soundtracks. What? Doesn't everyone have those types of playlists on their iPods?

Anyway, I filled my playlist up with songs like "The Champ" by Nelly, "The Fighter" by The Fray, and "Run the World (Girls)" by Beyonce, among others. So I have to ask. What would be on your "I'm awesome" playlist? I'm always looking for additions.

And don't forget. Be awesome.

To Infinity and Beyond

Let me start by saying: I don't like space. I'm not interested in it. I'm not fascinated by it. Don't want to watch movies about it. Nothing.

So I considered it a very cruel joke when I went to the neurologist the other day and was told I have "black holes" in my brain.'

"Excuse me? That's rude. Seriously, you're joking, right?" I said. Of course, given my track record I should have known better.

"Um, no."

Wow. That's something I never expected to hear from a doctor. I asked what a black hole was. I mean, I know what a black hole is, just not when it's in your brain. Well, apparently, black holes are when the myelin has been completely lost and nerve cells have been damaged beyond repair--as into the nether regions of the universe. In short it means that whatever info that nerve was trying to transmit ain't gonna make it. Kind of a big road closed sign.

Of course, as can happen when you're hit with things like, "Oh, you have black holes in your brain," which I'm sure happens to people all the time, I failed to formulate my well thought out and articulate questions, such as "What the hell?"

And so I go back to discovery mode seeking out far-off answers and distant explanations. I just hope I don't fall into a black hole along the way.