It's nice to be home

I have been an athlete my whole life...in some form or another. Oh, there have been down times. Times when I just didn't want to or completely refused to work out (or exercise) at all. I have been aware of my weight and muscles since I was about 8 years old. And I've had a love hate relationship with both. I know my way around a swimming pool, a dojo, a gym, a private training facility, an olympic facility, back roads on a bike and off road to run...You name it, I've done it or I've read about it or I'm thinking about doing it. I know how to take weight off, put it on, bulk up the muscles, lean them out, build cardio endurance, fast twitch muscles, abs, thighs, back, chest...I'm not kidding. I consider myself a little bit of an expert. (I say that in the dark with the doors and windows closed!) To look at me, you might not believe any of this but it's true.

So, the second most recent kick that I was on was martial arts. I got my black belt. I was ready to start learning all there was to know. I moved dojos and started training with an amazing teacher. He's a total master. He lives and breathes doing great things mind and body. Truly an inspiration. I loved (love) him. I tried to take as many of his classes that I could. Unfortunately as it turned out, my father passed away. And something changed inside of me. I couldn't go back to martial arts. I didn't want to fight anyone or anything. I lost my mojo (for the dojo!) I felt horrible. I was lost because it was really what I was physically into. I LOVED it. It was mentally, physically and spiritually challenging. It filled a void in me that I'd had for a very long time (athletically speaking). So there I was floundering. Not working out. Terribly depressed over the loss of my dad. The best thing would have been some exercise but because I had such a strange reaction to the kicking and punching I just didn't do anything. I wasn't sleeping well. I wasn't eating right. I might have been indulging in a few too many glasses of wine or shots of tequila all in an effort to get some much needed sleep. Nothing was working.

About a year ago, my sis-in-law started yakking to me about yoga. NO WAY I thought. Snooze, boring. Where's the fun? But the more she talked about it, the more interested I became. Plus I was pretty much coming undone. No sleep. No exercise. Poor eating. Way too much knitting on a deadline. Ack. Just thinking about it makes me cringe. Anyway, I decided to give it a try. What did I have to lose? I did a ton of research trying to find the right studio. And I ultimately did. I started going EVERY DAY. (because that's what I do. I'm an athlete that is highly motivated and possibly mildly competitive). I loved it. I really loved it. I couldn't believe it. It was challenging. It helped my mental state like therapy. My body loved it. My muscles loved it. It was really awesome. But then something happened. I don't really know what it was but I stopped going. So since September I haven't gone. I realized that my main issue was the lack of cardio in my life. I hate to run. I'll do it if I have to but I'd prefer something else - Plus the time investment and lack of a locker room, per se just wasn't working for me. But I NEEDED to do something. I just couldn't take it anymore.

So officially I joined a gym yesterday. One that I can go to in many locations around the city. It's not as super schwanky as I like but the convenience of locations is key for me. And today I took a yoga class. I was a little nervous about it. And to be honest, I still am. I don't know if it's going to actually be what I'm looking for in yoga, as challenging as I'd like but I'm willing to give it a try. I'm going to try out a number of classes in different locals and see what I come up with. Plus there are hundreds and hundreds of cardio machines. Some locations have pools (not that I'm interested in that but just in case) and I'm going to hope for the best. I'm totally at home in a gym. I know my way around so I guess it feels good to be home.