I'm trying yoga. I'm not flexible or upper-body strong and my balance is not ideal. I'm a runner with tight hamstrings and great cardio stamina. Yoga looks hard. Crazy hard. So basically I'm trying something that I'm pretty sure I'm going to be pretty bad at, at least for a little while. I'm trying something that's going to be challenging and that will push my limits of what I think I can do. Here's how that happened.
The other day I was at the gym on one of the elliptical machines. This in and of itself is problematic for me. I don't really love working out indoors. There's nothing about an elliptical machine that makes me look forward to exercise. There's really nothing mentally challenging about a fifty minute elliptical workout, and even when you bump up the settings the physical challenge is not exactly inspiring. But that's where I have found myself more often than not from seven to eight in the morning for the last two months--at the gym on an elliptical. And that is because I have a running-related muscle injury in my right leg that is preventing me from doing any running. I'm not happy with this situation.
Anyway, last week I was at the gym (again). On the elliptical (again). I went to turn on Netflix on my phone so that I could watch The West Wing (which is how I tolerate being at the gym on the elliptical). Netflix wouldn't come on. There was some sort of network error related to the gym's wifi signal.
Now I realize this was not that big of a deal. I knew it wasn't that big of a deal at the time. But that did not stop my eyes from filling up with tears. It did not stop my breathing from getting rapid and shallow. The fact that this was not a big deal did not stop me from starting to cry (very quietly) right there in the gym on the elliptical machine.
The West Wing is a great show (my favorite of all time), but not having access to it at that particular moment was certainly not a tragedy. It was definitely not a situation that should have induced tears. But it did. Yes there I was, crying on the elliptical at the gym because I couldn't watch my show.
I hate to blame The West Wing (or lack thereof) for my untimely emotional collapse. In reality it had nothing to do with The West Wing or Netflix or really even that damn elliptical.
What really happened was that my frustration with a situation over which I have no control sort of came to a head. I hadn't realized until right then just how much I missed running. Running was (is? will be again?) my outlet--put my headphones on and just go, however long or short a distance felt good. It was time I got to spend inside my head. Time I got to spend outdoors. Time I got to spend singing along to all the songs I like. Time I got to spend setting goals and realizing goals and assessing life. Time to think about my kids and their lives and how excited I am for them. Running was exercise time that I absolutely adored and looked forward to every single time (mostly), and it is what kept me in shape and endlessly enthusiastic about entering various runs--one in Disneyland with my best friend, a few in Sacramento with my older brother, several in San Francisco with Steven. Running is what helped me realize I could do things that, for a very long time, I thought I could never do. It gave me a feeling of dedication and accomplishment. It was part of what made me, me.
To lose that outlet, that sense of identity, was hard. I guess I didn't realize how hard until that moment. That moment when I cried on the elliptical. Yep.
I did pull myself together rather quickly, I must say. I wiped away my tears and turned on my music and ellipticalled (new word) until I felt (only slightly) better.
And then I signed up for yoga.
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