Day 73 The 80-20 Life
“I’ve been doing yoga for seven years,” our instructor, Randee, told us today. “And it took me three years before I could do Fixed Firm.”
As this is a pose that only took me a week or two to master, I suddenly felt pretty darn good about my practice. (Again, not me in the photo, but I think my alignment is more or less the same. At least, no one corrects me, so it must be close.)
After 73 days straight, it’s gotten to be something of a habit now. I’ve even had a few classes where I’ve sort of zoned out and suddenly, it’s over and everyone’s packing up.
My nemesis posture, Standing-Head-to-Knee, is coming along nicely. I can now get each knee straight, toes pointed backwards, Achilles flexed. For just a moment or two, but still. Next step, bending my head down to my knee, but I’m in no hurry. If it takes years, it takes years. I need to stop thinking of this as a quick fix, a 90-day boot camp, after which I’ll be able to go back to my sloth-like ways. I may take a few days off eventually, but I aim to continue four-five times per week. I like the way I feel, and I don’t want to lose that.
It’s not about perfection, or deprivation. It’s about making healthy choices 80% of the time.
I got another motivator recently, with the results of some routine bloodwork. My cholesterol – wow, this makes me feel old – has been edging upwards for some time now, a genetic albatross passed down from my mother’s side. (Strokes to the left of me, cancer to the right, here I am, stuck in the middle with you.)
In April 2010, my total number was 6.9, at which point I pretty much put my fingers in my ears and went la-la-la-la. As of February 2011, before I began my challenge, it was 7.1. I’d like to emphasize here that I’d just returned from Maui, where I freely admit my lifestyle was probably 80% mai tais, 20% lying around, but this forced me to take my fingers out and pay attention.
My HDLs – the good fats – are also high, which means my HDL:LDL ratio is still within normal range. Which is probably why I haven’t had a heart attack – yet.
I don’t know if Bikram yoga, without dieting, has a documented effect on cholesterol. My diet is fairly good anyway, pie notwithstanding, and I get really crabby when I’m hungry, so I’m not inclined to anything drastic here. But I will get my blood chemistry rechecked in a few months, and report back. If my cholesterol has gotten worse, despite my yoga challenge, then – and only then – I will reconsider giving up cutting down on pie.
Day 65 Go Canucks!
Game Four against Chicago, will the Canucks prevail? I believe!
And I’m watching the game, so no more blogging. (But in case you’re wondering, I’m still doing my daily 90 minutes of Bikram yoga and surviving celebrating marriage, motherhood and menopause.)
So, as Arnold says, “Ahh’ll be bahk.”
Tomorrow.
*
Never mind. I still buh-leeve. But that was seriously ugly.
Day 63 “I See You”
During my college years, I was the girl people brought their problems to. I was a “good listener” and apparently my advice wasn’t too bad because they kept coming back. One weird roommate (my daughter once told me that creeps are attracted to me) bouncy and oblivious as a Labrador puppy, would sit at the foot of my bed, going on and on about this guy Dalton who, clearly, was never going to notice her.
“I’m tired, so I’ll just get ready for bed while I listen to you,” I offered, reluctant to physically elbow her out the door.
She barely paused for breath. “…and we both love volleyball, and pizza…”
“I’m going to crawl under the covers now,” I told her, stifling a yawn, “but I’m still listening.”
“… and he smiled at me in the hallway yesterday and it was so perfect, I think this is it, finally, right?? RIGHT??”
“I’m going to close my eyes,” I mumbled, “but I’m still listening.”
She eventually went away but my dreams were tainted with Dalton, fending off a gangly Labrador in thick glasses, who kept trying to lick his face.
The thing is, weird girl aside, I like listening to people’s problems, maybe because I see them as stories. High drama or melodrama, it is the stuff our lives are made up of. Plus it distracts me from my own navel lint.
To be a confidante is to be gifted with trust, to have someone say “I will let you see the real me, weak and wanting, unwashed and unvarnished, because I believe you will not laugh, or judge, or rear back in horror.”
In the movie Avatar, the main characters declare their love by saying “I see you.” To be truly seen – and heard – and still be found worthy of love, well, that’s pretty amazing.