Blogathon entry – Melinda Edwards “Extreme exercise”

The torture of yoga, walking and fifo.

A couple of my girlfriends are the most beautiful, supportive and fit women in my life.  I am not one for the gym, but my exercise of choice is yoga. I am in a love/hate relationship with Bikram yoga. Birkam yoga the one where I sweat it out in a 38-degree room for 90 minutes in series of 26 yoga poses, like awkward pose.  I have to literally drag my ass to the two classes a week that I am making myself go to. If my gorgeous friend Helen didn’t come with me and make me feel guilty, lazy and unmotivated if I don’t go, then nope I wouldn’t put myself thru the torture. In the hot room it is my mind that I struggle with and it doesn’t matter how much I try and surrender to the yoga instructors voice, to shut up my internal chatter. Other times it is my body, screaming at me. Almost always it is the sweat, I hate sweat, I hate it when it goes up my nose, I hate it when it drips in my mouth, I hate it trickling in between my boobs, I hate it running down my legs. But the moment I have conquered that class and I hit the showers.  I have such a feeling of triumph and I feel like I can do anything.

I have also included a new form of torture.  Again I have the most beautiful and supportive, fit girlfriends I could ask for, I have had two of the bitches (I called them that during this walk) drag me to a local Mountain to “go for a walk”.  The  mountain of choice at the moment is about 10 minutes from my house. It is the worst 700 meters that I have ever walked, from the very first step it is insanely steep like straight up steep.  No meandering path, no gentle climb, nope straight into the steepest freaking concrete path I have ever buy bactrim ds seen.   The first time that I did it, I really did think that I was going to die. My heart was beating out of my chest, I couldn’t for the life of me catch my breath, my legs were burning, and my mind was on overdrive with the most dreadful names that I could think of to call my friend.

On the second go up this god awful mountain, I changed my plan of attack. I decided I can only look at my feet, if I look up and see that steep, torturous concrete path I get overwhelmed, my breath shortens, my heart races and my mind goes negative, my mind tells me I will never get there, my mind tells me to stop. But if I just concentrate on my feet and taking one step at a time, I don’t get overwhelmed, my breathing slows and I can concentrate and the tortuous path does not seem as bad. It is still tough, I defiantly get a work out, but I can manage it and without to much name calling.

I have been struggling with FIFO this swing, the 21 days have been like that god awful torturous concrete path, and I feel like I have defiantly been sweating it out with sweat going up nose like in the hot room.  But on my post walk high, I saw the similarities of these extreme exercises and my last 2 weeks of this swing.  If I stop looking at the date that he comes home and only look at todays date and what I need to get done today and concentrate on today, then like that concrete path and the sweat I will get there.  It will be crap and I will have dreadful names flying thru my head about what I think of FIFO.  But when I pick him up from the airport at the end of the 21 days. I will have that same feeling of triumph and feel like I can do anything.