zen busters

(apparently I have not always been a big lazy bum)

The minute I thought of that title, the Ghost Busters song popped in to my head for reasons unbeknownst to be (I've never so much as seen it).  And now it's in yours, too.  You're welcome. 


Inspiration?  The rapid decline of my first post-yoga zen in, shudder, nearly a year.  When I left DoD last summer, I had to give up my awesome gym membership.  While at State, I never quite found a replacement for either the Pentagon gym or its staggering array of free group classes.  I think we've discussed that I'm on the lazier side of the spectrum, yes?  But now that I'm back in the DoD fold once again, I'm able to re-join the much-loved Pentagon gym.  I did so on day 2 at the new gig, feeling some odd sense of healthy momentum that I feared would swing back in the direction of my comfy couch far too quickly if I didn't wholeheartedly embrace it.  And I ate a couple dunkin donuts that morning and was feeling guilty.  Details. 


Since I don't work at the Pentagon proper, I plan to make the trek over there a few days at week for what I fondly call Pentagon yoga. If I can't do something, anything, healthy two days a week, well, that's just shameful (I never would have guessed my waistline would benefit from my Catholic guilt).  Other days, I'll try to use the little outpost of the PAC near my office.  If it's anything like the PAC, I will be one of the only female, non-military people sweating it up over the lunch hour.  Even yoga, which I think of as being much more popular with women, was roughly 85 to 90% male tonight. 


I digress.  So, since this was my first yoga class in nearly a year, it took every ounce of strength (not much) and energy (even less) that I had to keep my balance and not just give up when we did the bajillionth plank to downward dog.  Not only did I feel proud of myself for making it to class even though I was exhausted and had missed the shuttle (meaning it would have been easy to go on home and just forget it), every last ounce of my concentration was spent trying to do all the moves.  Normally one of the hardest parts of yoga class for me is keeping my mind clear the entire hour.  Tonight, it flew by. 


I floated out of the studio, feeling a little sore already, but in that good "I'm sort of doing something healthy" way.  I floated right on down to the metro, where I read my way through what would have normally been an obnoxiously long wait on for the train (thanks again for that Nook, parents!). I didn't even mind that my phone was dead, meaning I couldn't check to see if a bus was coming.  I'd take the much longer walk home from the metro.  See me being all healthy?  


As I emerged from the station, I was suddenly not so over the moon about my trek home.  I knew it was hot today, but I don't think I had acknowledged just how hot it would still be at 7pm.  Correction: I didn't realize it'd be like walking through pea soup.  That was still simmering on a stove. 


And then I found myself walking between the real zen busters.  


The couple in front of me was carrying large, greasy bags from Five Guys.  I don't even like burgers and fries that much, but I was so hungry that I briefly debated tackling them and making off with what I could. My sore muscles (and maybe some good sense) won, and I accepted that I'd be following the scent of dinner all the way home (where I had, of course, forgotten to defrost something to cook).  


The woman behind me was on her phone the entire 10+ minute walk (apparently she lives in my building).  I'm the first to pick up the phone to help a long walk pass more quickly, but I am hyper-sensitive about what volume I am using.  I loathe strangers hearing me talk on the phone (and generally assume most people don't want to hear me yammering away, either).  This girl, however, had no qualms about giving her friend a detailed play by play of her disastrous dates of late, her fears of being alone forever, her curiosity over why guys aren't fond of her etc.  Based solely on what I overheard on the walk, I could give her a few ideas regarding her more, umm, off-putting, qualities.  In case you're worried about her fate, she plans to (and I quote) "just join the dark side and become a lesbian." 


Between my hunger pains and the Dr. Phil episode unfolding behind me, I felt the yoga zen quickly melting away.  I think this means I'll just have to go back for more next week.