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Jun 28 2010

Livin’ the West(Wet) Coast Lifestyle – Ya Baby!

There are some things about living on the westcoast that are simply just better. It’s better to live near the mountains. It’s better to live near the sea.

It’s better to have the best hiking, mountain biking, sailing, skiing, wind-surfing, kite-boarding, snowboarding etc at your doorstep.

It’s so much better that Tourism BC’s slogan is “You Gotta Be Here”.

Yesterday, Sunday, a friend and I took advantage of living in BC.

We did the mack-daddy of all Vancouver “things to do”.

The Grouse Grind.

For those of you unfamiliar with “the Grind” it’s a ball-breaker. Sure there are some lunatics that run up the bloody thing. The locals call it “nature’s stair-climber” but I think that was in the 80′s when stair-climbers were cool. Doesn’t seem like a cool name anymore.

Essentially the grind is 2.9 km straight up. It’s a freakin’ mountain for Christ’s sake!

I found out something really important yesterday while struggling up the Grind….60 days of yoga does not provide ANY cardio!

The whole way up I was entertaining people by stopping to smell the new cedar posts or stopping to tie my shoe or stopping to look at the “scenery”.

Notice a theme here?

I had to stop….A LOT!!!

I was breathing out of my ears. I can’t get over how hard the grind is. There were 5 year olds peeling past me at break-neck speed. urrgg. stupid 5 year olds.

Just as you think that you’re getting fit and slim and all pretty, you find out you have no cardio and you’re probably going to die on the side of a mountain in front of a bunch of strangers. How awesome is that!?

(I have to finish this post later because my friend Krista is behaving like one of my kids and won’t leave me alone to write my blog post….friends…ppfffttt) ;)


Jun 11 2010

No Really! It WAS a Banana, I Swear!

No really, it was a banana, I swear to God!

The other day my kids were hanging at a friend’s place. A place we call Club Med for kids cuz the parents work all the time and make up for it by buying every, conceivable toy for the kids.

There’s the water slide and the tree house and the electric car and pretty much every thing that my kids covet. (I’d say secretly covet but they’re too young to hide their honesty still and will say “Let’s go over to ???? cuz they have a pool!” Ya gotta love that.)

Anyway, so I go over to meet them and take them to a movie. I figured they’d be in the back, cuz that’s where all the cool junk is. I walked through the carport but no one was out back so I turned to go ’round the front.

As I was walking out of the carport something happened. It was so fast that it didn’t register in my brain. In a nanosecond it seemed that I was airborne.

Turns out I had slipped. My right foot slipped on something slippery (uh, of course it was slippery, duh!) and went flying out in front of me. To compensate, my left foot flipped over and skidded (in a flip flop) along it’s top, across the pavement.

I thought it was dog shit. As I was going down hard on the left knee I distinctly thought “Crap, I’ve slipped in dog shit, this is annoying!” Then I went through a surprising number of expletives in the time it took me to hit the ground. Amazing how the mind works!

Anyway, I was down, on one knee, taking stock of what was hurt. I knew the top of my left foot and the left knee took the brunt of everything. When I rose I turned to look at the shitty offender and found that it was, indeed, a banana. (not a peel, which would have made this story a lot funnier but who am I to embellish for effect ;)

What kind of a jerk leaves banana in the middle of the walking area? Mind you, there is a banana-eating baby at the house so I can’t be too annoyed.

All in all, there wasn’t a lot of damage done and the re-telling of the story more than makes up for any discomfort I had.

I have to say though, without the 30+ days of yoga that preceeded the fall I think I would have been far more hurt. Like a pulled hamstring for one. The strength in my legs definitely saved me further injury. So thanks to down dog and all her pals for bulking me up to survive death by banana!


May 30 2010

I Fucking Hate Bikrams (Hot Yoga)

I fucking hate hot yoga (Bikrams). I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!

Look at this guy in the photo. Is this a good testament for hot yoga? I don’t think so! Sure he’s skinny and bendy but really, do you want to be THAT skinny? Or even THAT bendy?

I hate all the people in hot yoga too. In their little short shorts or even bathing suits. With their hot little bodies looking all tanned and glistening.

Throughout the practice the instructor is forever saying nonesense like “don’t compare yourself to others” “don’t push too hard”. They don’t mean it. They want you to look at all those other people and wish you were them. They tell you that every pose has a progression and that even the masters have never found the end of that progression.

WTF? I’m NEVER going to be good at this? Ever? What? What’s the point?

I will admit that I have just finished a hot yoga class. Rumours abound that all the hip opening causes emotional upheaval in people. I don’t see it….well, maybe I’m a little big angry at hot yoga but I refuse to believe my irritation has anything to do with my tight hips. (30 years of running is not conducive to loose hips. Loose lips on the other hand….that’s a different post)

Yet, somewhere in the back of my type A mind, I feel that maybe hot yoga is better for you than regular yoga. It’s harder, you breath harder, your muscles stretch more, everything hurts afterwards…and for days.

Damnit! Now I’m making a case to actually do MORE Bikrams.

I’m not entirely sure that yoga that makes you angry is the way to go but maybe I’ll give it another chance. I don’t wanna look like this guy though. Promise me that won’t happen.


May 27 2010

Yoga Farts – a necessary evil

I’m fairly sure that this has happened to everyone at least once during their yoga practice.
You get yourself up in shoulder stand or down dog and…BAMB! one slips out.
How embarrassing! Memories of grade school sphincter indiscretions pop into your head and you lose focus of what post you’re supposed to in.
You quickly steal glances around the room to make sure no one else noticed and if you happen to catch someone’s knowing eye you die a thousand deaths.
Ah, the yoga fart is most definitely the scrouge of all yoga practicers.
Last night, during power yoga, I was especially gassy. I did my best to hold in those annoying little SBD’s but a few slipped past the blockade.
I think it’s the crazy positions you’re meant to do in yoga that cause this phenomenon. I’m not entirely sure we’re meant to be pulled and prodded and yanked into pretzel shapes. Maybe yoga farts are the universe’s way of telling us that this is just not good for you!
Or maybe I’m just looking for co-farters so that I don’t feel like the only one who has disturbed the zen of the room with a big, smelly toot.
More yoga today. Wonder what this practice will smell like? :)