I have been cheating on yoga with my bike.
That’s right. I am having an affair with my beautiful, sparkly-blue, shiny, slightly dirty bike. I can’t help it. I keep thinking about yoga…I really do. I find myself yearning for Bikram. It is my centering agent. It is my practice and my prayer.
I have made several internal “commitments” to go to yoga, but then life happens and there’s my bike staring at me from the garage…watching, ready, fun.
So, I hop on and yoga gets left in the dust.
As freeing as cycling is, there are a lot of little irritations to work around. Many of Omaha’s sidewalks are not well kept. They are disheveled, neglected and unfinished on Dodge and Farnam Streets, in particular. People block the sidewalk, they don’t trim trees and bushes, and pull into the crosswalk so I can‘t safely cross the street. I can see the day coming when, while not paying attention, I die in some freak accident because the sidewalk suddenly ends in a steep cliff. Admittedly, I like the danger of Dodge Street and pushing it…riding up the hills, hard. I revel in the shades of green along the trails and the striking smell of fresh lilacs. But, today I almost ran over road kill and there’s nothing like that stench first thing to wake you straight up out of a morning fog.
And then there’s the sweat. I don’t glisten; I sweat like a middle-aged man at the gym desperately trying to reclaim his lost youth. And, that’s fine first thing in the morning or late in the day, but it doesn’t leave the best impression to ride to a meeting, show up a half an hour late because of bad planning and proceed to spend the first fifteen minutes of that meeting wiping dripping sweat from my face. And I won’t even talk about what’s going on under my clothes during the meeting.
Annoyances aside, the truth is I’m addicted. I get high off of the endorphins. I rode to work today and I don’t think I came down all day--one colleague asked me what I‘d snorted on the way in. “I rode my bike,” I said in a glazy daze.
That’s right. I am having an affair with my beautiful, sparkly-blue, shiny, slightly dirty bike. I can’t help it. I keep thinking about yoga…I really do. I find myself yearning for Bikram. It is my centering agent. It is my practice and my prayer.
I have made several internal “commitments” to go to yoga, but then life happens and there’s my bike staring at me from the garage…watching, ready, fun.
So, I hop on and yoga gets left in the dust.
As freeing as cycling is, there are a lot of little irritations to work around. Many of Omaha’s sidewalks are not well kept. They are disheveled, neglected and unfinished on Dodge and Farnam Streets, in particular. People block the sidewalk, they don’t trim trees and bushes, and pull into the crosswalk so I can‘t safely cross the street. I can see the day coming when, while not paying attention, I die in some freak accident because the sidewalk suddenly ends in a steep cliff. Admittedly, I like the danger of Dodge Street and pushing it…riding up the hills, hard. I revel in the shades of green along the trails and the striking smell of fresh lilacs. But, today I almost ran over road kill and there’s nothing like that stench first thing to wake you straight up out of a morning fog.
And then there’s the sweat. I don’t glisten; I sweat like a middle-aged man at the gym desperately trying to reclaim his lost youth. And, that’s fine first thing in the morning or late in the day, but it doesn’t leave the best impression to ride to a meeting, show up a half an hour late because of bad planning and proceed to spend the first fifteen minutes of that meeting wiping dripping sweat from my face. And I won’t even talk about what’s going on under my clothes during the meeting.
Annoyances aside, the truth is I’m addicted. I get high off of the endorphins. I rode to work today and I don’t think I came down all day--one colleague asked me what I‘d snorted on the way in. “I rode my bike,” I said in a glazy daze.
3 comments:
i'm a sweater, too. Carry some unscented baby wipes. They're anti-bacterial and will suffice for the whole work thing. :)
Biking to work does bring a whole fresh attitude. I know exactly what you're talking about.
I agree--the baby wipes are a godsend. They wipe away evidence of grease and sweat. And hats...that's my other secret weapon. People will say "wow, you look cute today" because I'm wearing some hat but what I'm thinking is "whew....havent' washed my hair since yesterday and forgot a comb..."
Miss you at yoga, but the bike is a beauty. We'll still be there, sweaty and full of love, when you return.
Post a Comment