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.
Bikram yoga, the type of yoga where I sweat it out in a 38-degree room for 90 minutes in a series of 26 yoga poses, like ‘Awkward’ pose. I drag my ass into, two classes each week. If my gorgeous friend Helen, didn’t come with me and make me feel guilty, lazy, and unmotivated if I didn’t go, then nope, I wouldn’t put myself through the torture.
In the hot room there are a few things I struggle with and it doesn’t matter how much I try and surrender to the yoga instructor’s voice, I cannot 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 when it trickles in between my boobs, I hate it when it runs down my legs. But the moment I conquer a class and hit the showers, none of those things matter and I have a sense of triumph, and 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, and then I have the two ‘bitches’ (I called them that during this walk) that 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, and I mean…straight-up steep. No meandering path, no gentle climb, nope, straight into the steepest freaking concrete path I have ever 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 in 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 turns 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 take one step at a time, I don’t get overwhelmed, my breath slows and I can concentrate. It is only then that 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 too much name calling.
In the same spirit of the yoga and mountain experiences, 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 in the Bikram yoga room. However, during my post-mountain walk emotional high, I saw the similarities of the extreme exercises of yoga and mountain walking, and the last two weeks of this swing. If I stop looking at the date that Mr S comes home and only look at today’s date and what I need to get done today and only concentrate on today, then like that concrete path and the sweat, I will get there. So, I can say this much…The time Mr S is away will be crap and I will have dreadful names running through my head about what I think of FIFO. But when I pick Mr S up from the airport at the end of the 21 days, I will have that same feeling of Bikram yoga and mountain climbing triumph, and I will feel like I can do anything.
Category: My voice - diary on being a woman, wife and mother, Writing Tagged: bikram yoga, birkam, competition, fly in fly out, flying, gym, husband, marriage, mountains, mum, mum blog, mummy blog, wife, yoga