I know, I know, TWO posts about yoga? Back to back no less? Whoa there princess! Yeah, well, suck it up, it’s become a big part of my weekly routine and overall recovery strategy; and if kicking ass is wrong then I don’t want to be right. Yoga has become that one restorative workout that I really look forward to. Coming between me and my yoga these days is like trying to come between Charlie Sheen and his coked out prostitutes.
What’s not to love? There is no specific tempo or pace to keep, no distance or time requirement to make, no heart rate to monitor…hell, there’s not even any ‘interval’ of any kind whatsoever. It’s just me, my thoughts and some good ‘ol wholesome bendy-twisty. And if it should happen to be warm and inviting outside on my Day Off then so much the better.
Yes, I did plant a garden on my patio to encourage this regular practice and I still take full advantage of it nearly every day, but I also like to take the show on the road with little weekend excursions from time to time; a little ‘yoga on the go’ if you will. After all, ‘variety is the spice of life’. That’s a yoga thing isn’t it?
Whatever the case, besides the infinite health and mental benefits I’m obviously drawing from all this, it also provides me with an opportunity to reconnect up close and personal with some of the more beautiful and serene locations around the Niagara Region that I’m usually just cruising through at Mach 3 on my bike or on the verge of near cardiac rest while running. With yoga, I can take my time and relax, maybe listen to some tunes or Audiobook, and just simply enjoy a few hours in the warm sunshine, all from the vantage point of Downward Dog. It’s all just another part of the whole Brussel Sprout strategy of training.
Typically, I like to find somewhere private or secluded so I can concentrate while fumbling around on my mat in peace; safe from scrutinizing eyes. I know I wouldn’t ever want to come across a half naked fat guy doing his Sun Salutations in a public park somewhere and I wouldn’t wish that on any hiker, picnicker, or anyone else for that matter. Lord knows I’d put them right off their potato salad.
Yesterday, however, I decided to keep more local as I had much to do errand-wise so I simply went down to the pier Port Dalhousie. How bad could it be? Well, aside from the odd tourist who would brave the carpet of crap to actually reach the lighthouse – not to mention any number of old Korean fisherman – I pretty much had the pier to myself. Fortunately, the seagulls seemed to have some strange aversion to the lighthouse itself so the pavement was pretty neat and clean of seagull gunk. In fact, it was very peaceful listening to the sound of waves rolling in and the quacking of baby ducks. The odd bikinied Jet Skier might zoom past or a nearby fisherman might suddenly wrestle dinner out of the water but, otherwise, it was quiet and beautiful. Look at me! I’m, like, meditating…almost.
So for about an hour or so, I practiced my balance and flexibility as well as torturing my core a little bit for good measure. Afterwards, I just sat quietly and practiced my breathing while enjoying the warm breeze and scoping out the passing sailboats, and all the while, working on evening out my acute farmer’s tan.
I did have one funny observation though while observing the odd random passersby. Why do some people look so uncomfortable when they see someone stretching? Sure, it’s not something you’d expect to see going on at the end of Lakeside pier, nor am I any Antonio Banderas, true, but by the expressions on some people you’d think they just happened across John Merrick dancing for nickels or something.
Seriously, haven’t you ever seen a grown man in Marjaryasana before?