Mojo Mayhem

I was reminded today that it's been a solid week since my last blog post.

So what, you may ask, was I doing with my time? Well, the first couple of days were spent pretty much dicking around. I had my first glass of wine in months -- I think since a margarita with my friend 2 months ago -- and it really knocked me out. I bought a bottle last week, which turned into three by Sunday. Let me tell you, I felt sluggish for days after my last sip (which, by the way, was on Tuesday night).

Also, the outdoor 5K journey turned out to be a full fledge immersion into allergyville. I was Puffy and Wheezy and Groggy and about three other Smurf characters all rolled up into one.

Did I mention the mystery knee pain and serious case of "where did my tits go-itis" I sustained last week? Or the fact that I learned that my form was completely wrong for lunges and pushups?

If you are not familiar with these woes, let me say that doing lunges incorrectly (which is to say, the way that doesn't hurt as much) will result in straining joints like your knees. Similarly, poor form on pushups will build your arms, but not your chest. If you are losing weight, your lady lumps sag a little and the only way to tighten the tatas is with solid chest conditioning.

Learning how to do both exercises correctly meant starting from square one and though I know it shouldn't, it just felt like a failure. On the other hand, not learning meant more knee pain and flat, floppy boobs.

Yeah, you guessed it. Those first few days were spent in woe-is-me-ville or at least riding around and trying to find the way out of that icky town.

The thing is, it isn't always easy to stay positive when you are trying to get your collective crap together. You know, there are just times when you get overwhelmed or feel pain or feel hung over. . .

I think what it all boils down to is that I misplaced my mojo and had to search like hell, retrace my steps, and really concentrate on getting it back.

Fortunately, I found it, scurrying around like that thing in the bad credit score commercial (bad 509!) and I had to nurse it back to civility. I pulled my fanny off the sofa -- and by the way if I may digress, it is absolutely amazing how fast a fanny can turn on you; after weeks of working it up, that sucker had just deflated before my eyes! -- at any rate, I got my deflated fanny off the sofa and hauled into yoga on Wednesday.

In yoga, I found the first little sprinklings of pixie dust, a known remedy for misguided mojos.

I threw down my crow and held that baby for 2 and a half breaths. My moment of glory went a little something like this: inhale 1-2-3-4, (tremble, shake) exhale 1-2-3-4, (tremble, shake) inhale 1-2-3-4, exhale 1-2-3-4, (tremble, shake) inhale 1-2 and topple over to avoid busting face on mat in front of strangers. Trust me, it was fantabulous.

I then decided to just go for it and ended up flipping my down dog position which isn't really as hard as it is scary. You go from all fours facing down, to lifting one leg toward the ceiling, then letting it fall toward the wall, and ultimately letting it fall to the floor so your face is up instead of down. The scary part is trusting that you won't bust your behind -- or just resigning yourself to the reality that you might just!

In the last ten minutes of class, I found myself in a shoulder stand being suffocated by my boobs and trembling with laughter. This was fun, or at least funny, and I realized where my mojo went.

I was taking myself and my process waaaaaaay too seriously. I was forgetting to reward my efforts with laughter. Life is serious enough: fitness shouldn't have to be about high stakes and failure. It should be about celebration and thankfulness for a body that can do whatever it can in that moment, and for a mind that can push it beyond that current reality.

So, I crawled back on the wagon. I spit out the dust and sand that I'd eaten when I fell. And I decided to bring it, and be ecstatic with what I brought. Thursday I went to kickboxing and kicked ass. I might not have looked like much on the outside, but in my mind, I was Van Dam, baby. Friday morning I humbled myself and started from ground zero on my lunges & pushups. Amazingly, it wasn't that bad. I was actually happy to find the new, more appropriate discomfort.

Now I'm getting ready to snuggle up on the sofa with my mojo and watch a little DVRed TV, after all, we've earned it!

Until next,