Yesterday, I went to yoga for the first time since before Christmas. In the past year, I’ve been fairly dedicated to my yoga practice, mostly because if I only go once a week, it is difficult to walk and breathe the next day I’m so sore. I’ve also made some fantastic friends through yoga, and I hate missing them. When I’m consistent in my practice, I sleep better, I work better, I feel better, I eat better, and I am significantly more in control of my anxiety. Plus, I feel stronger and more aware of my body. There is very little excuse for me to not be dedicated, especially since there are no real negatives.
In the summer, I was running and doing yoga, but in the fall when my tennis season started back, running became more difficult. The high impact of running and the high impact of tennis do not live harmoniously in my joints. Too much working out causes me to have debilitating muscle cramps. I’ve tried everything, believe me, and the only sure fire way to stop the cramps is to not work out every day of the week and cut back on my high impact activities. I’m better off with one or the other. I’m sure I will start running again in February, if only so I can enjoy the bridge run. I’m happy to go out and run a 5k when I haven’t been running on a regular basis, but running a 10k without prior consideration sucks. I can do anything for an hour, and I’ve done it before when not prepared, but I was miserable the whole time. My masochistic qualities are spotty at times.
The yoga class I went to yesterday was at the studio in Mount Pleasant, which is the largest yoga studio I’ve ever practiced in, and there were more people there than I’ve ever seen. It was SLAMMED with people. This is what Saturday morning yoga looks like in January.
I went to the movies last night – Django – because, as you know, movies make me happy. We went to the local Carmike, because the movie was not playing at the smaller arts theater that is infinitely preferable (but also significantly more expensive). We got there about 15 minutes early, and the theater was already starting to fill up. By the time the movie started, it was 3/4 full, and after 20 minutes of previews, it was slammed. This is what the movie theater looks like on a Saturday night in January.
This morning, I went to church. I love my church, it is the greatest little Episcopal church. I can walk there, all of the preachers are great, and the congregation is a perfect mix of diversity. I should go more often. I love that my Episcopal church here retains so many qualities of the church where I went to school growing up, and the Episcopal church in Athens. I feel confident I could find an Episcopal church in most places in the world, and some aspect would remind me of home.
You know how if you’ve been traveling abroad for long enough, and you find yourself at the McDonald’s eating a McFlurry, simply because it feels like home. I never go to McDonald’s, and even when I do, I rarely get McFlurries. But every McFlurry I’ve ever eaten in a foreign country sticks out in my mind as the greatest McFlurry ever made. I don’t mean to imply that McDonald’s and the Episcopal church have a lot in common, I’m just saying there is comfort in familiarity. As a side note, the McDonald’s in Greece serves something called the McGreek – which is a hamburger patty in a pita with tzatsiki sauce on it. I have it on good authority that the McDonald’s in India serves something called a McVeggie. Way to assimilate Micky-D.
Apologies for that ridiculous tangent. Back to church this morning. It was Epiphany – which is one of the happiest services of the year beyond Easter and Christmas. I like using Epiphany as a noun. I felt lighter when I left. I like to sit in the balcony, and in the summertime, the balcony might have five people in it. This morning, the balcony was at capacity. This is what church looks like the first Sunday in January.
In other January news, I’ve been toying with the idea of Drynuary – I normally have little interest in absolutes, and believe that life should be lived in moderation – but the holidays left me feeling a little pickled, and I thought it couldn’t hurt to try out. I also made this decision on New Year’s day, at Home Team after the polar bear plunge. I don’t feel convicted enough to last the whole month, but my goal is 10 days, maybe two weeks, of no alcohol, and then a commitment to moderation. This seems reasonable, healthy, and doable. I’ve given up drinking for lent a couple of times, but that was at a time when I was much more interested in absolutes and convictions. And my masochistic tendencies were less spotty.
It is raining today, and there is a woodpecker outside of my window – going to town on the carolina cherry. At first I thought it was a redheaded woodpecker, but further investigation reveals it to be a Red-bellied woodpecker. Apparently redheaded woodpeckers have red all over their head and their neck, and this dude most definitely only had red like a cap on his head, and a white stomach, with a speckled back. Learn something new every day.
the thin line between optimism and delusion... 
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