My friend Meagan just left after finishing off the night playing a few songs on our guitars. I’m very pleased to have her as a friend and guitar-mate, as she’s been practicing for many years, and this rookie can certainly benefit from anyone who has the patience for my valiant effort. Tonight, something seemed to click in the ol’ brain of mine, and not only do I feel like I have a better grasp of the tablature that would otherwise look more like computer programming, but I also feel inspired to write up the first blog post of the new year. Happy 2015, afterall.
I hadn’t seen Meagan in what seems like over a month—in fact two—, but despite the time lapse, we picked up exactly where we left off. As I made us up some tasty portobello tacos, we indulged in a few IPA’s while catching one another up on travel, work, love and the lack there of. Good times.
What we discovered is that both of us would love to devote more time to running. At the same time, our bodies are being complete debi-downers. Meagan is suffering from an ongoing onslaught of injury in her feet, leading potentially to plantar fasciitis. After a series of half-marathons spread throughout Utah, Texas, Oklahoma and Colorado, she has decided to give her body a rest. For one month. Good luck Meagan.
Meanwhile, I have had a squeaky achilles. It’s not as much pain, as it is mental worry. The thing feels like a unlubricated and sunburned rubber band. It’s not particularly noticeable on most runs, but when at work and descending stairs, it becomes inflamed and I’m concerned the damn thing is gonna snap.
But all we want to do is run. Especially with marathons looming in our futures.
So… Meagan will try to refrain from running for one month. I will try to do so for one week. Grrr.
Fortunately I will be able to satisfy my itch for exercise by other means as I have once again signed up on a one-month membership with the Bikram Yoga Studio. I absolutely love HOT yoga. And apparently I’m really good at it, at least that’s what every studio has told me. (I’ve hopped from one studio to another like a bit of a yoga-whore… It’s one of the few ways to afford the damn hobby). Anyway, I’m hoping this refueled passion of mine will help sort out the whole Achilles thing, not to mention to eradicate, once and for all, the person whom I’ve come to be both obsessed and overwhelmed by throughout the holiday season, and coincidentally have come to name Earl.
Meet Earl. He is the 500-pound fat man who moved into my body on Thanksgiving Day and proceeded to stick around until New Year’s Eve dinner, when, upon eating a rather healthy dinner and indulging too little for Earl’s tastes, he decided to pack up and go haunt someone else’s waistline. Oh Earl, what a bastard he was. Be it a dinner party, or just lounging around the house, Earl wanted to stuff his face. Baked Brie….Why not? That tray of cookies…. Hell yeah. That extra glass—er, bottle—of wine…Of course. Oh Earl. Evil, evil Earl. It’s now January 4th, and after feeling like my vital organs and general mood were in serious jeopardy, things have lifted and I feel fine once again. Quite well, in fact. Goodbye Earl. Hello yoga. Hello moderate glass of vino. Running shoes, I look forward to seeing you next Sunday. It’s for your own good, just remember that….