Yoga Bear

Took my first yoga class last night in years--I usually practice at home with a DVD, but Living Social had a great deal at a local studio. I couldn't resist 10 classes for $30; $3 a class, are you kidding?
When my daughter was 10 or so, we signed up for yoga and enjoyed many weeks of relaxation. Part of my goal with her was teaching her how to calm herself when she felt stressed. She has always been hard on herself, and expects much from herself, and tends to panic in the face of a lot of homework--she's still like that in some ways (gee, where did she get those traits from? I can't imagine!). But I remember reminding her about her "yoga breath" as a way to calm herself down. Wonder if she remembers that?
It is beginner kripalu, which felt sort of basic. I know all the poses, but the continuing lack of flexibility in my foot means I can't hold them very long or very well. So it was a good choice.
And it was 75 minutes of pure bliss--forced calm breathing, the aroma of incense, relaxing music. Ahhhhh.
About midway through the class I said to the guy next to me, "I love yoga; it's so simple." He laughed: "Simple?" I think he misconstrued my meaning. Yoga is simple, in that it is not complex, but in no way is it easy!!!
I look forward to next Wednesday's class, a day after physical therapy, when my foot should be even less swollen and more pliable.

Ramblings

I find when I feel like I have nothing to say, there actually is a lot to write about. So, some general observations for the week.
1. The podiatrist pulled the pin out of my second toe on Tuesday, with tool-box type pliers stored in a sanitized bag, like dental implements.
2. We just had a debate about the spelling of "pliers." Depends on the dictionary, apparently.
3. On Wednesday, I did yoga for the first time in 6 weeks, hoping it would help with pliability (ha ha) in my foot; it worked! So now I am looking forward to joining a weekly yoga class on Wednesdays.
4. Never underestimate the joy of inserting a damp, warm washcloth between your toes, and moving it back and forth.
5. The school districts were stupid on Friday, closing early and canceling activities based on a snow-warning forecast that never materialized.
6. My hat's off to the hardy souls brave enough to run the Chilly Chili 5K tomorrow in Cazenovia; chilly, indeed! I will be there in spirit.
7. Sometimes you and your spouse really need to get away, even if for overnight, to recharge your relationship.
8. Winters are made more tolerable by in-season, juicy citrus fruits.
9. I really love pizza.
10. Going swimming this Monday for the first time in 6 weeks is going to feel like reconnecting with an old friend.

Boot Scootin'

I have been unable to use my right foot for nearly 5 weeks now, due to surgery. When I finally felt up to getting out and about, my first retail visit was to Wegmans. Since then I have shopped at other local retailers--the mall, Macy's, Price Chopper, Wal-Mart, Target, BJs.
At the same time, winter-wet floors are treacherous for people using crutches--slip, sliding away and all that. So, I have been getting around on those electric scooters you normally see "old" folks driving.
A sociologist could do a fascinating study of: human beings respecting the scooter rider, avoiding the scooter rider, refusing to move for the scooter rider, staring at the scooter rider. Now I know I don't fit the normal profile of a scooter rider, but do people really think I'm just taking a joy ride?
I have a new-found appreciation for people who use wheelchairs for their mode of transportation, and how various stores are easier to get around than others.
It's interesting to me, also, that different stores' scooters operate better or worse than their competitors'. All of them possess a quite-loud reverse warning beep, and all of them stop too suddenly. That was a lesson learned when I nearly got rear-ended by a tailgating cart-shopper at Wegmans on New Year's Eve! I have since learned to finesse the stop by easing my grip off the "go" lever.
By far the best scooter I've driven was at Target--this baby tooled right along, nice and smooth, so fast my 19-year-old son had trouble keeping up. This was a scooter that screamed, "respect the driver."
Wal-Mart's, on the other hand, dribbed and drabbed, making those behind you annoyed at how slowly you were traveling (are we really surprised I would get looks at Wal-Mart?). Hey, it's not the driver's fault the dang thing doesn't go fast! Oh, and I had my funniest mishap at Wal-Mart. Check out the photo!
In less than a week I won't be needing the Amigo, as the scooter brand is called, but I will leave its seat with a greater awe for those who depend on them for hunter-gathering eggs, milk and coffee.

26.2 what????

I have been thinking. . .OK, dangerous at times, I know.
But, I have run two marathons, the second one 24 minutes faster than the first (that's nearly a minute a mile faster, for those keeping track). The goal both times was to qualify for the Boston Marathon. Each five-year age group (both men and women) has a specific time in which to run a marathon in order to qualify to the uber-prestigious Boston race. The second marathon, Indianapolis, I missed Boston by 1:30 minutes. I was pretty bummed about that until I broke my left foot two months later. If I had qualified, I wouldn't have been able to run it in 2008 anyway. And I was able to visit my sister, who lives in Indy. It was a good weekend regardless.
As I have gotten older, I have come to realize that things tend to happen for a reason. So, there's the reason I didn't qualify for Boston in 2007.
So, as I had moderate success at the half-Ironman I did last September, I am thinking I could put in the time to train for another marathon.
I signed up for the Bay State Marathon last year, thinking I would shoot for Boston (too bad in 2011 it's the same day as the inaugural Empire State Marathon right here in good ol' Syracuse). The race director was kind enough to let me defer my race entry until 2011, after I explained my impending foot surgery.
This is what I'm thinking: train for the Bay State Marathon while at the same time competing in triathlons. Since I'm losing four months of training while my foot heals, I won't be doing a half-Ironman in 2011 anyway. If I qualify for Boston--the time for my age group is 4:05:59--great! If I don't, great! Who cares? I will have just completed a marathon.
Sure, Boston is great, but it's also very expensive and has gotten incredibly difficult to register for--registration closed for the 2011 version hours after it opened. I don't need that kind of stress! I just want to run a marathon.
So, that's what I'm thinking.

Deliberate Acts of Kindness

In the delightful movie Harvey, Jimmy Stewart tells of how his mother advised him that in this life, you can be either smart or pleasant. "Well, for years I was smart. I recommend pleasant." Now, I would never expect anything but scholastic achievement from my children, but there's no reason they can't be smart and pleasant. Especially when one member of the family is off her feet.
Herewith, are some non-random acts of kindness that the five children have bestowed upon me since I came home from surgery Thursday night:
1. My daughter, 21, is continually checking on me via text message. She is embroiled in finals at Oswego, so this is the best she can do.
2. My son, almost 19, who thankfully finished up at Onondaga Community College on Thursday, stuck around all day yesterday (until his stepfather came home) to make sure I was all right. When I told him he should go Christmas shopping at the mall, he said, "I'm not going to leave you." Later, bored out of my skull, I asked if he wanted to watch "The Price is Right" with me. "Sure," he said.
3. I was attempting to hobble down the stairs by myself (independent Annie and all), and the 17-year-old immediately jumped up and said, "Do you need help?" I didn't have to ask.
4. One especially kind move by the 13-year-old was to bring me some red licorice. Apparently, the bus driver hands out candy on Fridays, and she made sure to tell the driver her stepmom had had surgery, and then made sure to bring me one of my favorite candies!
5. The 6-year-old: she has painted me 11 pictures since I got home. In fact, last night we had to shoo her to bed, she was still painting!
Now if that isn't kindness, I don't know what is. Thanks, kids, for showing me that I am important to you.