Hot yoga sneak attack

It’s no secret that I love hot yoga. And when I head to a class, I make sure to prepare myself. I have two towels, two bottles of water (at least), and likely an extra shirt. Plus the mindset that hot yoga requires – it will be hard; you’ll sweat your ass off; and you’ll probably slip on the mat or floor at least once.

Last night, however, I chose a non-heated class.

I wanted something a little less strenuous, a little less slippery, and a little more centering.

Of course, I was stressed from leaving work late, rushed to the class and forgot my water bottle – not the best start to a lovely meditative practice. But I lay on mat, trying to relax and focus – secure in the knowledge that this class would be far cooler than I was used to. Just what I needed.

Not even 15 minutes in, I was already sweating.

Okay, I thought. There are a lot of people; it’s a smaller space. But the instructor is adjusting the thermostat – I’m sure he’s making it cooler.

Which was quickly followed by, but then why are there puddles around my mat? And damn me for forgetting my water!

I started wondering if it was even possible to do non-heated yoga in the DC summer. Maybe the heat and humidity just permeate everywhere. Maybe there’s no escape.

Until the instructor announced, “Sorry everyone. The thermostat isn’t working. I have the air on, but it doesn’t seem to be doing anything. Don’t worry, though. I’ll report it to the building management.“

And suddenly all those little puddles made sense, and I was back to cursing my lack of water.

I tried to get back to my intention, but my mindset was all off. All I could think of was powering through, cooling off, and changing into clothes that weren’t dripping.

There was a moment during the final resting pose that I thought I might have found my center again. The room was dark and quiet, and I’d just gotten a grasp on my intention.

But as soon as the instructor asked us to sit up, all too soon, I might add, my first thought was, What a shitty shavasana.

Center: still lost.

I’m already signed up for several more classes next week – all non-heated – so here’s hoping that they fix the thermostat in time.

Or that I remember my water.

But preferably the thermostat. And a longer shavasana.

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But don’t think this means I’m going to start updating my status

Thanks to the wonder (or devil, as you like) that is Timeline, I can unequivocally say that today is my 8 year Facebook anniversary.

More than anything else in my life, that makes me feel old.

More than friends having babies; more than getting married; more than the Beloit mindset lists.

More than my impending 10-year high school reunion; more than 19-year-olds in major league baseball.

More than babysitting a kid who says, “Whoa! You were born in the 80s??” with a mix of wonder and horror.

Social networking is what does it.

Congratulations, Facebook. You win.

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The one-month scramble

When I write out my birthday lists, a year always seems like plenty of time to do everything I want to do.

Then there’s one month left before my birthday and half the list still unchecked, and I remember that I’m a born procrastinator.

This year is no different. I’m scrambling on some things (Duck Tour, DC United), and missed the window on others (Colorado visit, Phillies playoffs *tear*). But there are also a few that I’m not quite sure how to evaluate, because they’re actually ongoing projects. Like these two:

17) Be slow to judgment.

18) Let go of old grudges.

I’ll be honest, #17 could be going better. I still judge. But am I slower to judgment than I used to be? Does progress count? I’d like to think it does. And I generally feel better when I’m less judge-y.

(Although, as I wrote that I remembered an extremely cathartic bitch session with a classmate about the rest of our class…so maybe it’s too soon for progress.)

Letting go of old grudges has been slightly more successful. It’s still an ongoing process (and I’m excluding sports grudges because, well, I just am), but it’s been freeing. But again, is it truly something I can just cross off, dust off my hands, and say, done with that?

The concrete things on my list, those I can check off (or push to next year). But the attitude adjustments, well, maybe that’s just a whole separate life list.

And you know me, I love a good list.

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My little demons

To say that I struggle with my weight would be an understatement.

In addition to changing my diet and exercising, I have tried countless diet pills, juices, and fads over the years. In fact, the first time I lied about my age wasn’t to get into an R-rated movie, impress a boy, or buy cigarettes; it was to buy diet pills at GNC.

About six years ago I decided that the best way to diet was to simply count calories, eat healthy, and go to the gym every day. And it worked. In the course of a summer I lost about 15 pounds.

And I was living off roughly 1000 calories a day.

At the time, I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong. I was thrilled that the weight was coming off like that! And I reveled in the days that I made it all 24 hours on less than 1000 calories. It became a game.

A very dangerous game.

I should have known that it wasn’t sustainable. That summer I was living at home, not going out much (if at all), and working more than 40 hours a week.

I had no life, but by god I was skinny!

And then it all went to shit when I re-entered the real world by studying abroad and going back to college. The pounds came creeping back on and I became more and more frustrated, and more and more restrictive with my diet – an unfortunate method that has had lasting effects.

Not only had I severely slowed my metabolism, according to the nutritionist I was instructed to see, but my entire view of food was warped. I’d eat the occasional cheese fries (because my self-control was also shot), but I’d constantly be thinking about what I couldn’t have because of that indulgence. Or how many miles I’d have to do to balance it out. I thought of foods as expensive (lots of calories) and cheap (not so many), and it was exhausting.

I’ve been dieting for 6+ years without ever again seeing the number on the scale that I saw that first summer. And it made me feel like I was failing.

Until now.

Because now, at the risk of sounding like a commercial, I’m on Weight Watchers. BNF and I have been doing it for the past month (inspiration: less than five months ’til the wedding!) and we’re actually seeing noticeable results. The difference between these results, though, and the ones from six years ago is that I don’t feel like I’m punishing myself this time around.

I’m not so much restricting what I eat; I’m just making better choices. As a calorie-counter, I would have limited the fruit I ate during the day because it adds up. As a points-counter, I’ve been snacking on fruit and veggies so much that the amount we buy never makes it through the week. That’s a good problem to have.

I’m finally happy with this method, and I haven’t really been able to say that since I started my dieting career.

While part of that happiness is spurred by the number on the scale, I ultimately just feel better in my own skin.

And that never happened with the calorie-counting.

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Light at the end of the (very long) tunnel

This morning, bright and early, I registered for classes for my very last semester of grad school.

The current semester will be over in just 5 weeks, and in 5.5 months I’ll be completely finished and able to add “M.A.” after my name. That doesn’t seem so very long in the grand scheme of things.

Of course, that doesn’t account for the final papers, the presentations, or the foreign language exit exam (anyone want to practice speaking French with me?), which I’m sure will make the months feel longer, but there is an end in sight.

“I never have to register for classes again!” I told BNF triumphantly this morning (or, at least, as triumphantly as I could muster before I’d had my first diet coke).

“Yeah,” he said. “Just wait until you decide to get your PhD.“

“No way. I don’t even want that.“

“You say that now – but, that’s just 26-year-old Elizabeth. Who knows what 36 or even 46-year-old Elizabeth will want?“

Now, I’m sure that he’s wrong. I’m sure that I’ll remember this feeling of being so close to done, and I won’t want to go back. But, just in case…

Listen up, future-Elizabeths:

You do not want your PhD. You do not want to be a professor or an academic. You don’t want to write a book that some poor future grad students are going to be forced to read. It’s not for you.

And when you think, oh, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to go back to school…just remember how much you love your free weekends.

Plus, think how OLD you’ll feel trying to pull an all-nighter at 46. If you can’t even do it now, there’s not a lot of hope for you 20 years down the road.

Stay sane.

Love,

26-year-old Elizabeth

There. That ought to do it.

Now – is it April yet?

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Applying school to life

As a Conflict Resolution student, and an International Affairs nerd in general, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about methods of reconciliation. And the constant trend is that there can be no reconciliation without an airing of truths.

Then I started about thinking about what truths of my own I would air, and remembered a couple years ago, when I did just that – and how freeing it was.

So why not give it another shot?

I know that we don’t speak anymore and, let’s be honest, we were never really friends, but I am truly sorry for what you’re going through. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.

You’re not as important as you think you are, so please help out when we ask for it.

I understand your desire to want to practice French. I want to do that, too. But you sound pretentious when you do it right in the middle of an English conversation.

I am honestly impressed with your networking skills. But I still won’t ask your advice because I don’t trust you.

I didn’t tell you I’d be in Chicago because you had already let several emails go unanswered. And that’s okay. I hope you and J are doing well.

I really wish you hadn’t moved.

It drives me crazy how we always seem to work according to your timetable. You talk about friendship like it’s an unbreakable bond, but you’d never know it the way you cancel every plan we’ve ever had.

I’m so excited for the both of you! And I can’t wait until May!

Please stop using Facebook as a weapon. You are far too old for that shit.

There may not be any reconciliation to these truths – whether because it’s not needed or will just never happen – but the truth-telling on its own can work wonders.

Maybe I should try this on a regular basis.

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Pinterest is stressing me out

I had ignored it for a while. Not out of principle or anything, but just because I didn’t need yet another site taking up my time.

Then I remembered Berrak telling me that it was a good place to gather all your wedding ideas and share them with your bridesmaids. And I thought, okay, that sounds reasonable. And maybe, while I’m at it, I could use it to show BNF what I want on the registry, or for the apartment, etc.

I think you can see where this is going.

I signed up. Before I’d even pinned anything to my boards (look at me! it’s like I know what I’m talking about!) I had followers, thanks to Facebook. And that? That stressed me out.

What if my lack of activity made me a loser? What if I pinned something that everyone else thought was stupid? What if, what if?

Then I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I’m an adult. Usually.

And while that reminder may stop Pinterest from being a source of stress, it’s still a complete time suck.

I spent the better part of this morning poring over wedding websites and pinning left and right. Yesterday, I was all over Williams Sonoma. I’m sure later today it’ll be something else.

Hopefully, at some point, this will become productive. For now, though…

***

***

…well, let’s just say this post would have been up a while ago, except that I got distracted by someone else’s pins.

So much for productivity.

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Little ways in which I’m wrong…

…that I’m perfectly okay with:

• ending sentences with prepositions, clearly

• saying “all intensive purposes,” instead of “all intents and purposes” (makes sense to me!)

• still saying “one swell foop,” even though I know better now

• pronouncing “indictment” exactly the way it looks (usually just in my head)

• not washing my fruit before I eat it

• in the same vein, eating food off the floor if it drops (added bonus: it completely grosses out BNF)

• not counting the tax when I tell someone about a deal I got (e.g. “The dress was on sale for less than $100 (not including tax)!”)

I’m sure there are (plenty) more, but for someone who likes to be right all the time even a short list like this is like a little bit of therapy – even if none of these “wrongs” have lasting impacts.

Except the fruit thing. I’m totally building up my immune system.

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Just a little longer…

Finals count: 3 down, 1 to go.

The good: I turned in my two econ assignments yesterday and, barring a failing grade, I will never have to take another economics class. Ever again. That’s a Christmas present in and of itself.

The bad: I have yet to study for my International Affairs final that will take place in approximately 31 hours. I am, however, equating everything to globalization and balance of power, so maybe it’s sunk in more than I realized.

The heart attack: I turned in my history paper at the absolute last possible second last night, at 11:59pm. After it sent, I saw the clock turn over to midnight. Talk about sneaking in under the wire. (I guess technically this would be a “good,” but I thought I was going to vomit from the nerves.)

The saving grace: In 48 hours I will be on a plane, heading to Puerto Rico. I will not be stressing about school work; I won’t be able to compulsively check to see if my grades are posted; and, with any luck, I’ll come back with a tan in the middle of December.

That is, if I come back at all.

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Freedom

Tomorrow morning I could wake up and go for a nice long run and revel in the fall weather and changing leaves.

Photo credit

Or, I could wake up and stay snuggled up in bed, catching up on whichever book/TV show I so choose.

Or, I could venture out into the world and just stroll around the city.

Or, well…you get the idea.

I have options now that I’m not training for another race (just yet). And those options feel glorious.

Don’t get me wrong – I love the structure of a training schedule. But toward the end of said schedule it gets tiresome to bow out of weekend plans in favor of a three to four hour run. So I plan to embrace these next couple months, running when the mood strikes, letting other forms of exercise into the mix, and allowing myself to relax when it’s called for. It’s good for my mental health.

I know it may seem silly to be so excited about a free weekend, but it seems that they are fewer and farther between these days. And so I feel the need to take advantage.

If you need me these next couple days, I’ll be lounging, going out, spending quality time with my friends, and just generally enjoying myself.

Except, of course, for that pesky school work. But hey, you can’t have everything.

Happy Friday!

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