Sunday, December 28, 2014

REGULAR RIGMAROLE

• Last night I fell asleep watching Star Trek VI: Undiscovered Country. I was on movie six because I had played two through five throughout the day while I worked on a design project. Via my friend, Caryn, the McQueen Orchestra hired me to do a typography print that they’ll sell to raise money for a trip. The concept for the print is sweet and distinctive. And while I can never say that everyone will love the style of what I’ve designed—aesthetic preference is a personal thing—design-wise, it’s tight and solid.

• Five more classes until I’m done with my current 30-day Bikram challenge. It’s not a secret that Bikram yoga attracts two specific personality types: addictive and Type A. I’m both and after my 4:30 class on Wednesday I’ll have done 295 Bikram classes this year. Not too shabby considering that I also started teacher training and do other yoga besides. (Riddle me this, how do I not have a completely incredible body due to all this vigorous yoga? Oh yeah . . . treats.) I just need one more double to be caught up. Vacation and the holiday meant that this go ‘round I had to do a fair few of doubles to meet the 30 classes in 30 days. As I was packing my yoga bag the other day with the multitude of crap I bring when I’m doubling up, Jim said, “Remember when you used to say you’d never do a double?” Oh my. I did. I said that.

When I know I’m doing a back-to-back I don’t put my mat in an extra hot spot for my first class. There are times that’s exactly what I want for myself, but when I know I’ll be spending 3 hours in the hot room, I try to be reasonable. I have a rule that if I want to do two classes I can’t skip any poses in my first class. If I do, I don’t get to stay for a second class. (I made an exception last week when a nosebleed put me down for the whole standing separate leg series. With my teacher’s go-ahead, I stayed for a second class, and I don’t mind saying that I totally tore that one up.) Immediately after the first class I knock back 24oz of water. My habit is to not bring water into class with me, but I do take water into my second class to keep me upright and sort of sane. Sort of. No one who regularly does doubles is even in the remote vicinity of totally sane. 

• I’m on my own today. Jim took Ben and Jo to the 49ers game in San Francisco. Ben’s talked about wanting to go to a game. Jim said why the hell not, bought tickets, put the kiddos in the car, and they went on an adventure. I was back and forth as to whether or not I’d go as well but decided to stay home so I could start on the fundraiser print. (This girl cannot do reading or computer things in a moving vehicle. She will vomit.) This is the time I set aside to work on it, and if I don’t follow my schedule I’ll be rushing to get the thing done at the last minute and my work will suck.

• The house is really loud right now. I’m happy about it. Both the upstairs and the downstairs Neato vacuums are doing their job which means I don’t have to think about vacuuming ever. Come to think of it, I’m not sure I know where the upright vacuums are.

I spent last evening with an ice pack on my knee. There’s one on there right now. I made the grave error of, you know, kneeling, and the right knee revolted. Dammit to hell. But this is the life I’ve got. One or more of my knees always hurts. It’s not from injury or overwork. It’s genetic. My grandma’s knees sucked. My mom’s knees suck. My knees suck. They have for my whole life. 

When my yogi pals see me backing out of a pose or avoiding it altogether they ask after class if I’m injured. Because I can’t figure out how to make them understand that I have knees that just can’t take what theirs can, I say yes. They say how. And I try to come up with an explanation for why my knees are messed up. My knee cap slipped one too many times during high school cheerleading. I had a lateral patellar realignment surgery on my left knee that I will regret for the rest of my life. I was a weightlifter. No single explanation works. I just have garbage joints. My ligaments are basically bubblegum which means that for tasks like, say, walking, my joints don’t have support enough for stability. The cartilage wears down. That translates to pain. I’m only 32 years old and there is osteoarthritis in one knee. I’m defective.

2 comments:

Patricia Jones said...

Megan, I just wanted to let you know how much I pen joy reading your blog. I don't read blogs. Yours is the only one. I look forward to it. I love hearing really reading about yoga which I have done a bit of at home, i.e. Tony Horton p90x1and3. Which I actually really don't enjoy. Well I take that back I like the balancing stuff, but the stretching stuff I could do without. I love to exercise and find joy reading your blog and you talk about how much you love it too. You are an amazing woman and I am happy that you are happy. Just wanted to let you know.

Megan said...

Patricia, on my gosh! Thank you so much for your kind, kind words. I am sure I don't merit such goodness, but I'm grateful nonetheless. Thank you for the incredible compliment of reading what I toss out into the void.

You dig the balancing in yoga? Bless you for it! I can't stand the balancing (because I've got terrible balance) but I love the stretching! A little something for everyone, I suppose.

Thanks again for popping in and saying hi. I appreciate you taking the time. It's a compliment that overwhelms me that my blog is the only one you read. I hope I can keep you entertained! Happy New Year!