I don’t mind working out, but finding time for it is a constant challenge.
Pre-kiddo, I had a pretty good routine. Run in the early evening after work, occasionally work in a yoga class with friends. Take leisurely walks with husband after dinner on weekends. Rotate yoga, pilates or dance aerobics DVDs during downtime or bad weather.
Now those early evenings I had reserved for exercise are spent in the car on a long, congested drive from work to day care to home, followed by a subsequent collapse on the couch once we arrive. I wear yoga pants and do no yoga. Putting on my yoga pants somedays is seriously the highlight of the day. So. Comfy.
I stressed when I was pregnant about how having a child would affect my running routine, and while it has been tough, I’ve been lucky enough to land a job that comes with a gym membership AND a gym within walking distance of my office, so I spend my lunch breaks there on the treadmill whenever I can.
But I miss yoga. I can feel the tension between my shoulder blades from commuting and sitting in front of a computer all day. I want to stretch out. I want to clear my head. I want that feeling of deep relaxation when I get up from my mat. (And I want to stop feeling guilty that my expensive yoga pants don’t get a workout.) Despite several yoga DVDs, squeezing in a practice is not easy. Not necessarily because of the time management involved. It’s the audience.
My son seems like he could really dig yoga. He is a master at downward dog and does effortless planks. But once the novelty has worn off, yoga practice either becomes poses he makes up (firetruck pose!) — or I become the gym. A plank with a 40-pound preschooler on your back should be part of CrossFit routines. I wind up collapsed on my face.
Last weekend, I had a slice of time in the morning before he woke up and turned on a yoga session on TV. The first 15 minutes were successful. Then he work up. He was too groggy to join in at first, but he quizzed me about all of the other poses. Then he wanted to do them with me. One involved a chair, and he grabbed the ricketiest chair in the house to try it on. Husband intervened. I powered through best I could.
Finally, it was time for savasana. The best part. The reward.
I laid back on my mat. Tiny cold toes crawled up my shoulder.
“My toes want to be on mommy,” he said.
I closed my eyes.