Electrolicious

Dre’s been embroiled in a really rough project at work these last couple weeks, and told me last night about a kvetch session he had with some of his fellow project managers. There was an acknowledgment that the situation had been frustrating, and that it was time for an anything goes bitch sesh. Just let it out! Vent your frustrations!

Andreas recounted that he was the first to pipe up, ranting “I mean, God! I HAVEN’T BEEN ABLE TO MAKE IT TO A YOGA CLASS IN FIVE DAYS!”

Last week I had my first of what will be almost every Friday off.

I woke up at my usual time, put on stretchy clothes, and headed off to Capitol Hill to attend my first NIA class. Last year, Dori had described NIA to me as “hippie aerobics” and I’d sort of been put off by the idea. Aerobics? Bleh. Hippies? Despite sort of being one, I have a low tolerance.

After attending a NIA class I can confirm that yes, hippie aerobics perfect describes it and holy shit! I loved it! It basically blends easy dance with some yoga, aerobics, and martial arts tossed in and then there were these moments where the teacher would hollar “Free form!” and everyone would just get funky with it. For someone like me who likes dancing at 9am and can never find anywhere to go do it, NIA was pretty much heaven. I will definitely be going again.

The class was taught at a dance studio that Dre and I used to live around the corner from, and after class I doodled over to the cafe where we used to get tea. It hadn’t changed. Thus caffeinated, I then walked down to my friend Dawn’s house. We at a light breakfast, smoked and gossiped, and then headed off to a noon yoga class at a yoga studio partially housed in the old Raverbooks storefront. It was a trip to walk into the space where Dre spent years selling counterculture books, and find it filled with, well, different books and overpriced yoga clothes (are there any other kind of yoga clothes?).

After yoga, it was a saunter back to Dawn’s to change clothes, then a saunter back down the street for lunch. Then saunter back to Dawn’s, then saunter down to Hothouse, Seattle’s woman-only bath house that just happens to be located under a lesbian bar. Dawn and I soaked for a couple hours and then it was back to her house one more time, before meeting Andreas for dinner, and then meeting a couple other friends to see Brokeback Mountain. After that, glasses of wine.

Summary: I spent Friday dancing, stretching, smoking, eating, and soaking. It was one of the best days I’ve had in a long long time and the only downside was that it made me really REALLY sad that I don’t live on Capitol Hill any more. During my moments of missing my former coworkers and workplace, all I need is a day like Friday to remind me that having a three-day weekend every weekend is well-worth sacrificing for. Life is meant to be lived this way.

Friday night I went to a nice long yoga class. I stretched out on the floor in shivasana, and the teacher came and gave my neck a little rub and then some gentle pulling. As she pulled on my neck, my stomach gurgled. It was pretty cool.

One of my longtime readers expressed interest in hearing more about my morning yoga practice, so here you go.
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Is it a good sign or a bad sign that this morning while chanting Om during yoga, I managed to thoroughly drool down my chin?

The most dangerous aspect of my lifestyle isn’t my driving (although I should probably slow down), and it isn’t my diet (although I should eat way less of all that healthy food), and it isn’t any sort of intoxication (I rarely drink and my party days are mostly behind me). It’s my sedentary lifestyle. I am an object at rest most of the time. It’s not healthy.

I’ve been trying to find ways to integrate more activity into my lifestyle. Not as in joining a gym — I’ve done that and it’s just not fun. It’s something I have to make time for, and when I get busy it’s the first thing to be sacrificed.

As mentioned before, I’ve been waking up and doing some yoga five days a week. Usually I get in 10 minutes or so of Ashtanga-like practice, but sometimes it’s 20 minutes and sometimes it’s only 5. But I do it every workday morning and that’s a good practice.

I’ve also been taking the stairs at work every day for the last couple months. I work on the 21st floor, so it’s definitely a haul and a half although when I timed my ascent it was actually only about six minutes of climbing. Still, every day for six minutes my heart pumps hard and I think to myself, “Ah, yes: I’m still alive. Everything still works.”

The added side bonus of taking the stairs is that when Dre and I went hiking this weekend (climbing about 2000 feet over the course of 3 miles), I was totally fine. It’s almost like I’d been, well, training. How remarkable!