Zen Therapy

I've been itching to get back to the gym again, since before my chemo was even finished. It's been a real problem because I was supposed to take it easy, not be around germs, and I'm limited in the type of exercises I can do, due to my Port-a-Cath. (The super awesome bionic implant I have in my chest, rated at 300 psi & 3 Tesla...)

It's also an issue, because I'm *always* tired. Always.



Last weekend, MJ & I (and the little Jack Russell terrier, Dixie Doo-Dah) went to the SC State Farmers Market to look for herbs & veggies to plant in MJ's garden. Being the geeky girl I am, of course I have a pedometer app on my phone. I walked 3800 steps, which is less than 2.5 miles. I was completely exhausted. And very fussy. Needless to say, I promptly crashed on the couch for a nap when I got home. MJ proceeded to plant things, cut grass, make paver stones, and all sorts of things while I snored away for hours.

I am so frustrated with my stamina and energy level. It's coming back, but so slowly. One day, I'm able to gallivant around and run errands, and I'm fine. The next day, I'm barely able to make it through a full day of work without taking a nap. My days of walking 7-8 miles, and not even thinking twice about it, are not that far behind me, and I keep comparing my pre-cancer fitness to my post-chemo reality. It's not a fair or pretty comparison.

Finally, yesterday, on a whim & a bit of luck, I finally made it to a yoga class. I've been doing yoga for years. It's a wonderful practice - it's always as difficult as you need it to be, it's always challenging, and every practice is different than the one before... even if you do the exact same poses. Yoga had been a steadfast friend to me, pre-cancer. I found myself excited and a bit nervous while I waited on my friend JBB to pick me up for class. I was supposed to be her security blanket - she was going to a new class, with a new instructor, without her usual friends to accompany her - and I was honestly scared that my old friend, yoga, would not accept me after a 6 month absence.

I was nervous about it just until I walked into the studio and unrolled my mat onto the clean hardwood floor. My feet felt the slightly sticky mat, and I knew I'd be ok. I knew that I could modify any pose to make it work for my current body. I knew that I could stop, come back to a more relaxing/manageable pose if what I was doing became too much. I didn't worry about whether anyone was looking at me or judging me. I focus on my body, the way it feels to be inside it, and the way it moves, when I'm in a yoga class. I don't look at anyone else in the room (aside from the teacher, and only when absolutely necessary.) I don't think about the other people in yoga class because, I assume/presume that they are in the same state I'm in while in yoga class. (I've been proven wrong, in pretty much every yoga class, though. Mainly because someone *always* comments on my poses or someone's poses from class. Every time. Just because I can only be non-competitive in yoga class doesn't mean *everyone* can. I get it.)

So, yoga class started. I was so stiff, stilted, unaware of my body. I felt sad. And neglectful. And, for a second, scared that I wouldn't be able to do it.
It = Everything.
As it turns out, I can still do lots of things, poses included. Granted, I am unable to do a single push-up, but I was expecting that. But I *can* do a forward fold, downward dog, warrior I&II, and chair. Good for me.

Oh, and by the way, f*ck child's pose. Really. I've always hated it. It's always been one of my least favorite poses. Maybe one day, I'll appreciate it. Today is not that day.