Day 38 Recovery Cocktail

There comes a point in each Bikram yoga class when, in the words of my favourite blogger-commedienne Allie, of Hyperbole-and-a-Half, I’m so thirsty I’d “shank an infant for juice.” I’ve read her post on her experience running a marathon in Texas several times, and each time it makes me laugh more. I love the way this woman’s mind works.

But anyway. Yoga. I always make sure I’m well-hydrated before the class, and I usually drink a full bottle during, but still. By the time we’ve finished the balancing series and move on to the floor exercises, I’m feeling the heat, like a living thing, pressing down on me. My clothing feels like those warmed blankets they put on you in the hospital after surgery. Except hotter, really, really hot. And all I want is a breeze. Cool water. Ice. A meat-locker.

This past January, about a half-hour after my husband and arrived in Maui, I came down with a virus. I’d been fighting it valiantly in the weeks leading up to the trip, pounding down Vitamin C, guzzling water and green tea, doing yoga like mad. But I still spent the first few days in paradise alternately sleeping, resting, napping, dozing or, if I was feeling particularly energetic, reading. All the while coughing like a walrus.

And thirsty, so thirsty.

The first night, Ray trotted on down to the resort store, in search of something that might, if not cure me, at least cut down on the whinging. He came back armed with juice of several varieties, an array of Vitamin water flavours, various exorbitantly over-priced over-the-counter remedies, and ice. Then he started mixing and matching. My special vacation cocktail: OJ and Vit C water on the rocks, mmm, better than mai tais.

I kind of got hooked on the combo. Now I throw in some coconut water, which is said to be loaded with potassium — and has the flavour of dirty socks. Mixed with the others, however, it’s palatable enough.

Is my special recovery cocktail any more nutritious than plain old OJ? Don’t know.

Don’t really care, either. Honestly, sometimes the only thing that gets me through the last couple of postures is the knowledge that it’s waiting for me in my car.

Maybe it’s the association. Ray served me like my own personal cabana boy, while I languished on the couch, upset that I was sick on our vacation. And he reassured me that it didn’t matter if we did nothing the whole time, the main thing is that we were together. So I guzzled my recovery cocktails, rested, and a couple of days later, was back to normal.

Our Visa bill was a little higher on incidentals. But that feeling of being cared for? Priceless.