The Waiting Is the Hardest Part

29 Jun

I signed up for my first ever Refine Method class today at 5.  I’m nervous.  I have no idea what it will be like.  I’ve read reviews and blog entries on line and it sounds kind of terrifying.  When I try a new class, I have a lot of anxieties running through my head.  I’m afraid of feeling stupid, I’m afraid of looking stupid, I’m afraid the teacher will think I’m stupid (notice a theme?).  It’s as though all of my insecurities come out when I have to try something new in front of others.  I remember when I started getting into yoga about a year ago.  There was a teacher whose classes I really wanted to take.  I made myself wait about three months until I deemed myself sufficiently “good” to dare to enter the class.  You know what?  I was fine.  And it’s yoga… aren’t you supposed to not care what people think about you?  Yeah, that never worked for me.  Sometimes I laugh at myself when I start thinking like this.  How much of a narcissist must I be to believe that everyone in a yoga class, or a Physique class, or even this Refine class, is taking time from their own workout to watch me, whether I’m completely inept or the most competent student ever to grace the studio’s presence?

The thing is, once it’s over, I usually feel so good, both physically and about myself.  I accomplished it.  Maybe just barely and maybe my face looks beet red and my hair looks like hell, but I showed up, I stuck it out, and I finished.  Usually I sign up for more classes.  I am nothing if not a glutton for punishment.


I’ll let you know how today’s class goes once I’m able to move again.


Running on Empty

26 Jun

I got married on Saturday at Bridgewaters in the South Street Seaport.  The ceremony was incredible (and blissfully short) and the party was beyond my wildest dreams.  I did not stop smiling for 6 straight hours.  The weather was perfect and I had my trusty Havaianas,  so we decided to forgo waiting for one of the shuttle busses my mom hired to take us back to the hotel and walked the five blocks.  Then exhaustion sent in. 

Our ceremony was exactly twelve minutes long.  Short, sweet, and to the point.  Plus, it meant more time for the cocktail hour, which I believe is the main reason people attend weddings in the first place.

Our ceremony was exactly twelve minutes long. Short, sweet, and to the point. Plus, it meant more time for the cocktail hour, which I believe is the main reason people attend weddings in the first place.

I have not been this physically and mentally exhausted since I took the bar exam four years ago.  Even that was more mental exhaustion than physical, feeling like if I learned one more thing I’d be like Kelly Bundy in that episode of Married with Children where she was a contestant on Jeopardy and literally forget everything  she knew.   Now, my body is exhausted.  My legs hurt from wearing heels all day and night (and traipsing around the Seaport).  I can barely string together sentences, which has been really great at work today when everyone’s out and I’m answering the phones in gibberish (we’re not leaving for our honeymoon until August).  This morning, I went on a 3.5 mile run.  I ran it at my usual pace, nothing too strenuous.  I actually felt pretty good during the run, although I kept it simple with a route I’ve done a lot which led to a bit of boredom towards the end.   Running helped clear my head a bit, but my body is not pleased with me right now.  It’s not so much into movement today.

I wouldn’t change one second of my wedding.  It was the most unbelievable experience to marry the man of my dreams and have everyone I love there to celebrate with me.  However, now I know why people go straight to the Caribbean and pass out on a beach chair for a week after their wedding.

Was that a pig that flew by my window?

20 Jun

I can’t believe I have a blog.  When blogging first became popular, I thought, why would I want to do that?  I kept journals in middle school and high school.  I found one of them when I went back to my parents a few weeks ago, read a few pages and laughed.  God, I was an over-dramatic pain in the butt at 15.  At some point I stopped keeping journals.  Part of it was probably due to the fact that I was in college, and if given the choice between writing down my feelings and going to a bar I heard a cute guy in my Math class would be at, I chose the bar.  Part of it was that the thrill was gone.  I found writing burdensome.  I think it also had to do with the fact that I lived in an apartment with two roommates and while I never thought they’d ever in a million years go through my stuff, the thought of anyone finding a journal with my innermost thoughts was terrifying.

I think that’s why I never really jumped on the blogging bandwagon.  Why would I want to write down my feelings in a public forum?  I keep a lot of my feelings from people I know.  Why on earth would I want to risk strangers reading about them?

But I need something.  I need an outlet.  I need a way to express myself.  And that callous on my right middle finger caused by holding pens and pencils the wrong way in school for 20 years has finally gone away.  So journal is out, blog is in. Whether it’s about my job, what’s making me happy or sad, my interest in clean living, deciding to sign up and train for races after having a mild panic attack over not knowing what to do with myself after my wedding (it’s on Saturday), yoga, or my struggle as a vegetarian trying to stop eating dairy due to lactose intolerance despite my love affair with cheese (only melted cheese oddly enough), I’m going to write about it here.  I don’t know if anyone will read this except for me.  That’s fine.   However, the knowledge that I have a place to come to put down my thoughts, my interests, my dislikes, my feelings is comforting.