Every time I see my Grinberg method practitioner, she suggests that I start doing martial arts to keep my cortisol-producing stress at bay. She asks if I'm still doing yoga and acupuncture to ensure that my adrenal glands get a rest every so often. And, every time I go to my endocrinologist, she tells me to make sure that I'm doing plenty of physical activity to keep my bones and hormones healthy. One of the great things about my apartment is that I have a good sized, wood-floored living room. And, with Netflix streaming video and Hulu, I have found a great way to supplement the periodic walks I talk with physical activity in the comfort and safety of my own home.
Last weekend I woke up and wanted to calm my body down so, I tuned into an hour long Yoga Zone session. Not having to stretch into and hold contortions that my body can't do in front of a room full of sweating strangers is lovely. My glutes and hamstrings are incredibly tight and I can hardly do a forward bend beyond a right angle. With yoga in my living room, I can unabashedly suck at bending over. The instructors on Yoga Zone also tell me exactly how to correctly position myself which, in classes at a studio, I either don't hear because I'm so wrapped up in embarrassment or doesn't happen because everyone else in the class is a total yogi. The instructor pushes my hips forward or torso into a twist but, often won't explicitly tell me to ensure that my pinky toe is pushed into the floor when I'm in warrior pose. And of course, the cost of going to a yoga studio and requirement to go at specific times both make me cranky. Yoga in my living room can happen anytime I feel like it and I don't have to pay a dime.
Tonight, after a day of heady discussion and planning, I needed an outlet that would tire me out and help me let off steam. I tuned into 10 minute kickboxing with my favorite Aussie trainer. I punched and kicked and worked out for a good solid 20 minutes. It's 9:08pm and my eyes can hardly stay open. And by tomorrow I'll have that lovely muscle ache in my legs and arms and may not be able to comfortably crouch. But, it will hurt so good. The first time I kickboxed in my living room was thirty minutes of continuous hilarity. My feet couldn't seem to pivot at the same time that my arm was jabbing left or right and I certainly couldn't jab with both arms, pivot on the left, swing right and end with a quick left upper cut. But it didn't matter. Because I was alone.
Last weekend I woke up and wanted to calm my body down so, I tuned into an hour long Yoga Zone session. Not having to stretch into and hold contortions that my body can't do in front of a room full of sweating strangers is lovely. My glutes and hamstrings are incredibly tight and I can hardly do a forward bend beyond a right angle. With yoga in my living room, I can unabashedly suck at bending over. The instructors on Yoga Zone also tell me exactly how to correctly position myself which, in classes at a studio, I either don't hear because I'm so wrapped up in embarrassment or doesn't happen because everyone else in the class is a total yogi. The instructor pushes my hips forward or torso into a twist but, often won't explicitly tell me to ensure that my pinky toe is pushed into the floor when I'm in warrior pose. And of course, the cost of going to a yoga studio and requirement to go at specific times both make me cranky. Yoga in my living room can happen anytime I feel like it and I don't have to pay a dime.
Tonight, after a day of heady discussion and planning, I needed an outlet that would tire me out and help me let off steam. I tuned into 10 minute kickboxing with my favorite Aussie trainer. I punched and kicked and worked out for a good solid 20 minutes. It's 9:08pm and my eyes can hardly stay open. And by tomorrow I'll have that lovely muscle ache in my legs and arms and may not be able to comfortably crouch. But, it will hurt so good. The first time I kickboxed in my living room was thirty minutes of continuous hilarity. My feet couldn't seem to pivot at the same time that my arm was jabbing left or right and I certainly couldn't jab with both arms, pivot on the left, swing right and end with a quick left upper cut. But it didn't matter. Because I was alone.
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