Yoga Christmas, With Sloth

It’s December, which means that it’s the time of the year where I totally feel like a fat, lazy, bland slob.

I’ve been eating too much chocolate, too many cookies. And not working out at all.

I’m reminded of my undergrad lit teacher, quoting Sloth, one of the seven deadly sins, in Marlowe’s Dr. Faustus: “Hey ho, I am Sloth.”

This line is supposed to be said in a lackadaisical manner, in the midst of a big sigh, and perhaps while lounging and eating chocolate. (Who brings this stuff into the house? It’s everywhere!) And perhaps, in contemporary fashion, while watching, on TV:

a. Survivor (Ah well, Tyson won. Snore.)
b. NHL Hockey (Hey ho, go Avs. Yawn.)
c. A nature show (The icecaps are melting? Ooh, that’s unfortunate.) Or maybe a car show. (Fixing up them old cars, how shiny are they? Takes a big bite of chocolate.)

‘Tis the season for human hibernation.

I guess I don’t like eating my way through the entire Hershey’s and Ghirardelli catalog, because this past week I joined Breathe Studio, which combines spin classes and yoga.

I took my first class on Thursday. Let me just say: I suck at yoga. I’m the worst yoga tryer in American history.

All the other limber folks were bending and folding like Gumby dolls, and me—well, let’s just say the my middle name isn’t Limber. It’s Joseph.

And let me just say: when I bend over the try to touch my toes, I get to a place just under my kneecaps, and that’s all I got.

But hey (ho)! At least I got some exercise in, and got those creaky joints to bend and flex to their rather limited, um, limits. I embraced my history of sloth, and began to beat it down(ward) like a (bad) dog.

At the end of the yoga session, lying flat on my back—in Savasana, I am told—I was breathing deep as light from Colfax Avenue flashed and slid across the ceiling in shards and circles, squares and trapezoids. The gold and silver bands filled me with a sense of ease and joy, and there was no slothfulness in me at all, anymore.

Here’s a lovely poem by Nate Klug that incorporates beauty and yoga—and a bicycle.

Happy Holidays, everyone!

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All I want for Christmas

What do I want for Christmas?

That’s easy. World peace.

And then, I would really, really like a fatbike. One like this:

Image

(from gearjunkie.com)

A few weeks ago, while I was shouldering my mud-clogged mountain bike over a particularly muddy section of trail, a dude came rolling by on one of these. It seemed as if he were floating on air. Man, it would be fun to ride through the winter, through the snow and crud and mud, on one of these.

Just saying the word is fun: fatbike. Saying the phrase is fun, too: I’d like a fatbike. (Dig the rhyme?)

Time to start saving my pennies, maybe for next Christmas.

Speaking of winter, and the recent (non-happening) apocalypse, here’s a short, classic poem by Robert Frost.

FIRE AND ICE

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
a
a

Have a happy, safe, and wonderfully warm Christmas, everyone. Even if you’re out in the cold, on your fatbike.

Tree

November is Freaking Cold. Part 1.

This past weekend, I rode at a local hill called Green Mountain, which is ideal for November–and after the first snow of fall–as it’s open, treeless, and snow tends to melt from the trails quickly.

I rode for around two hours, and let me say: it was awfully cold. My fingers and toes were numb; on downhills as I cruised, the chill blasted through my jersey and made me shiver. Such pain made me reconsider the recently decided upon idea that I would, as long as the trails weren’t buried in snow, ride through the winter. I have the gear. I like to ski, and can handle cold. I grew up in Buffalo, New York, for cripessakes. If I can survive that, I can survive anything.

Plus, there’s something solemn about riding in the gray and white, something quieter and more thoughtful, somehow, than the heat and green of spring and summer. Time to cool off, literally and figuratively. And we all know how important that is.

I just need to make sure I wear my warm gloves and my little riding booties next time.