Food is Fuel

Yesterday was physically taxing and quite insane.

I got up at 5:30 ready to hop in the car and drive down to Santa Barbara to practice at Eight Limb, but as I walked to my car, I noticed the rear left tire was completely flat. Crap.

So I took Tay’s old truck, a big hunkin’ 2.5 ton diesel, a car that I literally have to climb up into.

David worked me over pretty good after I finished my primary poses. We went through pasasana together, I admitted that I’ve been trying it out this week. He said, “Show me.” I did, heels lifted. Bound on both sides, but I felt all squished up. He suggested that I use a towel under my heels, folded three times over to start with, then reducing the folds until I no longer need it at all. The bind on the first side was cake. The second side was a little more difficult, I was tired of twisting after my first attempt. With a little help, I got the bind. Finished, went through my vinyasa.

“Krounchasana. Inhale jump left leg through.” Okay, I totally flail in this pose. Tight hamstrings, and I don’t do all too well in those “virasana” like poses where the leg goes back like that. What does that mean, by the way? Are my quads too tight? Are my calves too big? Oooooooooo my hamstrings are sore today. And the outsides of my hips.

Now I’m wishing that they would take other poses away when they give you new ones. Two more poses wears me out.

Oh, and then came backbends. He was determined to let me grab my own ankles. I practically blacked out I was working so hard for it. I whimpered, I grunted. I played the drama queen card. I can’t get past my own mind on this one. I just have so much fear around picking that second hand up and reaching for the ankle. Well, something to try for in tonight’s practice. The mind is a difficult thing to ignore.

After practice, we chatted for a while, then I sped back to San Luis Obispo to teach led primary. Which went well. I had a few folks from my intro class, so it was fun to see them.

And after this, I had a second photo shoot for the other yoga studio in town. By this time, it was 2 p.m. and I had only eaten a handful of potato chips. I totally hit the wall and crashed hard. He asked me for some warrior poses, he asked, “great, now hoooooooold it…”

“I can’t! Take the picture!” I was such a wimpy weakling.

I rushed home afterwards, showered as I leaned against a wall for support, dressed hastily, and off we went to San Miguel with 15 of our friends to this funky Basque cafe in the middle of nowhere. Nine courses and countless glasses of wine later, I felt stronger again.

Food is a good thing. Food is fuel. I’ll have to plan my Sundays a little better next time.

Jody and Kathy both owe me lunch. I’m hungry.

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