It's Official: I've Lost It.

We're moving across the country in precisely 9 days and 13 hours. Ho. Ly. Smokes. This means, I am crazy right now. Not my normal brand of crazy but a new kind: the kind where I daydream longingly about chickens with their heads cut off and think, "ah, to be that subdued!" There is so much to do and so little time to do it! I've lost it. I'm speaking, of course, about my mind. See, I couldn't even find it quickly enough to put it into that last sentence!

In a desperate attempt at sanity, I've put a list together of signs I've exhibited that prove I've, indeed, lost it.

1. My outfit today says, "I've given up." Yes, I believe fashion speaks. Just yesterday, my outfit said "I'm pretending that I'm not pajamas when really I am."


2. There are packed boxes everywhere and yet I still insisted we get a Christmas tree. We no longer have glasses but, don't worry folks, the Tannenbaum's a blazin! It's a vertically challenged, naked tree but it is fantastic! Every time I'm around it, I feel like saying, "good grief!" because it's my very own Charlie Brown Christmas tree.

3. I've been looking at the ridiculously huge pile of laundry saying, with great authority and fervor, "Laundry, do thyself!" No matter my optimism, the mass remains.

4. I've developed an enormous mass on my chin. Seriously, I'm Rudolph, the chin version! I prefer to refer to it as my "tumor" instead of a pimple, to which my husband so predictably responds, "It's not a toomah!"



5. I talk to myself. And my cat. Yeah, I'm that girl. I'm in my apartment all day working and packing, things were bound to go south for my sanity! Claudymom, God love her, always talks to herself. She says that "it's great talking to myself because I don't give myself grief like you kids do!" Ah, Claudymom. If this means I'm turning quirkier like her, than I guess I'm cool with it.

Send. Help. Please.

Oh, and Diet Coke. Lots of Diet Coke.

I used to make fun of bloggers. . .

Not to their faces, of course. I'm just not like that. I at least had the decency to do it behind their backs.

Now that I'm a blogger, I think it's only fair that I should make fun of myself. As illustrated above, I'm a big fan of "knocking it before you try it." Here is a list of things I used to make fun of but got totally into later on:

1. Uggs. Sure, they may be a little funny looking but have you ever worn them? It's like cloaking your feet in a soft lamb right before it's sheared. Fantastic. I used to make fun of people for wearing them (again, behind their backs, like a lady) but now I own 5 pairs. Yup, 5 pairs.

This is but a small taste of what I had to live with for years.

2. The Color Pink. Since Claudymom decorated my room in Laura Ashley for the first ten years of my life, I kind of overdosed on pink. My bedroom looked like Laura had eaten bad Chinese food, chugged a whole bottle of Pepto Bismol to cope with it and then threw up over my room while her child was coloring the walls with only a pink marker. Once we moved into a different house, I vowed never to have pink in my room again. I hated it for a long time and, after years of healing, we eventually mended our relationship and my bridesmaids wore a lovely shade of vermilion on my wedding day. It was glorious.

3. Capri Pants. I didn't "get" them for a long time. Sure, they would be useful in the event of a flood but wouldn't my ankles be cold? I have very sensitive ankles. I would mock my dear friend Caroline for wearing them where we were in high school (I really was such a doll!) and it was only a short time later that I had capris of my own. They're quite handy in the mild-weathered San Francisco. Not quite pants, not quite shorts!

4. Harry Potter. There was a time in my life that I persecuted fans of the teenage wizard. It was a dark time in my past that is quite difficult for me to write about. I even threatened to tell my husband (who was then my boyfriend) the end of the 6th book because I had heard a rumor about what happened. I can't believe he still married me! Clearly, I have repented and stepped away from that dark time in my past. Ok, I'm done talking about it-- it hurts too much.

5. Diet Coke. Gosh, I am just bringing up all these painful memories! I used to think Diet Coke tasted disgusting and would make this face anytime people drank it around me:

Isn't it so fun when someone makes this face at what you're eating or drinking?

After years of making this face, I woke up one morning my sophomore year of college with craving for Diet Coke. My life hasn't been the same since! I have a sneaking suspicion that my roomies were slipping me some behind my back and therefore creating an addiction (ah, sweet addiction!) that I would happily carry into my adult life.

6. Highlights. Yes, I was judgmental of people who got highlights. Is there no end to my hypocrisy?! Now, without the help of a trained colorist, I would not be "blonde yogini" but rather "'I used to be blonde when I was younger and sometimes I get blonde in the summers if it's really sunny and I am outside enough' yogini." Thank God for my conversion, not to mention my fantastic colorist at my local Aveda salon (their blondes really are the best!).

7. Big Sunglasses. I was skeptical of the trend in designer eyewear at first because I didn't want to look like a bug or worse, Johnny Depp from Willy Wonka. Now, they are my go-to accessory on any sunny day. Without them, I would need a seeing eye dog when it gets really sunny. My absolute favorite are my Kaenon sunglasses-- the design is called Leila. I just feel so much better in big, fabulous sunglasses. When it comes to women's sunglasses, I say the bigger the better. They are worth the price, in my book and I daresay I look nothing like Willy Wonka (even though Johnny Depp is super hot and, while he's a man and everything, any likeness to someone of that caliber hotness is a compliment).

8. Many more things! Skinny jeans, gladiator sandals, Mexican food, Canada and the list goes on!

I guess I judge what I don't understand or feel uncomfortable with . . . I'm sure there's a lesson from history here. With my track record, in five years I will be a purple-wearing, Ashton Kutcher fan who votes Republican. Yikes!

Ice Baths and Utkatasana

Almost two years ago, I ran the Nike Womens' Marathon in San Francisco. This may be the coolest marathon in all of history because a) it's all women and b) at the end you are greeted by firemen in tuxes and one of them hands you a Tiffany blue box with a silver finisher's necklace. Amazing, right? Sure it was a little awkward seeing a horde of fantastic looking men after I had just ran 26.2 miles and wasn't looking . . . awesome. But really, I'd do anything for that blue box.

I'm the one in the hypothermia blanket. Claudymom is on the left! Isn't she a babe?

I've run a few shorter races since then and, even though I don't plan on doing another marathon, I still think about it a lot. As I've said before, there is something about pushing your body that makes you feel alive. We were designed to run, walk and even swim and I try to be grateful for my body every day (even on those days my "skinny jeans" seem much more like "thank God these zipped up today jeans").

One of the most challenging things I had to do in training for the marathon was take ice baths. Any time you run over 10 miles, it's a good idea to take a bath in ice water for about 15 minutes. This is even less fun than it sounds. I remember the very first time I did this . . . I bought a few bags of ice from the store around the corner, put on my fleece hat, poured the ice in the tub with some very cold water, and proceeded to get in.

If you know me well, you know I did not go quietly. From the second my big toe hit the water, I began screaming obscenities at the top of my lungs. If pressed, I can curse like a sailor-- it's a gift. My husband ran around the apartment closing windows because, according to him, "kids live in this neighborhood!" and would apparently need therapy for years if they heard what I was screaming. I really didn't give a crap.

In this painful state (and it was SO painful), I could feel every part of my body. Even though I hated my life at that moment, I was so acutely aware of it.

I experience the same awareness when I am in the yoga pose utkatasana (oot-kuh-tah-suh-nah). This pose is most commonly known as "chair pose" because the person is supposed to look like they are sitting in an invisible chair.

In some yoga circles, this pose is known as "awkward pose." I truly didn't get that name until I saw this image from Yoga Journal. I swear most people don't look like this in this pose. Yoga is cool, I swear.

As you can imagine, this pose burns. But, if you can stomach it, it has the potential to remind you that you are, indeed, alive.

I know I spend too much time taking for granted that I am alive and well. That my heart pumps, my lungs fill and empty and my body is able to work hard.

So today, I am thankful for ice baths and even "awkward pose" for the awareness they have brought to my life. Awareness is what I need. I am also thankful for my yoga practice and the way it blends so well with my running practice. Yoga complements running and running complements yoga. They work together in my life to make me a saner, more aware person.

News Flash: Christmas Coming Early This Year!

I know what you're thinking: This dumb blonde just wrote about Halloween and now she thinks it's Christmastime already? 

My answer for you: First of all, stop being so harsh and secondly, get your ass in the Christmas spirit!

Look at it glistening in the sun . . . it's so beautiful.

Everyone knows there are two authorities on the arrival of the holiday season: Coca Cola and Starbucks. Think polar bears and red cups, people! The Diet Coke can has spoken: it's that time of year again! (side note for all of you worrying about my health for drinking diet soda. If it kills me in the end, it'd be a good way to go!)

I purchased this glorious D. Coke this afternoon on my way to Walgreens. The festive can was my first clue and the overall decor of Walgreens was my second that it is indeed the most wonderful time of the year (I encourage you to sing that as you read it. Come on, try it. No one likes a Scrooge).

Some people do not like Christmas to come so early. There are even people out there who won't let their wives to listen to Christmas music in the house until Thanksgiving. These same kinds of people think that changing the entire Netflix queue to all Christmas movies is going overboard. I know, I know, who are these Grinches?

Sure, there are some who might be overwhelmed at the amount of Christmas paraphernalia already present in their local Walgreens. Maybe their wives didn't use up all the glue on purpose so, in terms of a leg lamp, they're all set.

But me, I like to see all of the decorations for sale, both tacky and classy. There's something about stretching Christmastime out that makes me happy. Not because I like to shop or because I buy into the frenzied pace of some people's holiday seasons. I like the feeling in the air; the contagious joy. People are more patient, more generous-- dare I say, jollier? What's wrong with stretching that out for as long as possible?

I would also consider myself a fan of baby Jesus. Sue me for getting religious on you but I enjoy being reminded of God's love during this time. How does a leg lamp remind you of God's love? you ask. Well, I'll tell you. It all has to do with tradition. Every Thanksgiving, when I was a kid, we would get out the boxes of decorations and begin to decorate the house. I would be playing with the Lladro creche (unbeknownst to Claudymom, obvi), my brother would have on our scratchy Santa hat, my sister would be singing carols at the top of her lungs all while my mom yelled out the window at my dad hanging the Christmas lights to make sure he did a good job decorating the trees. It was too cold for Claudymom to be outside so she settled for yelling her orders from the window. It was like this for years. These quirky traditions and decorations remind me of the love in my life and, since I believe God is in all people, the love God has for me. Even my demonic cat in her elf costume (gift from Claudymom) fills me with joy. Only Christmas can do that.

The real challenge for me is, Why does it take Christmastime for me to be so connected to deep joy? I must try harder to remember the poetic words of Dickens' classic, coming from the mouth of the converted Scrooge:

I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year!

Do You Need a Yoga Mat to Practice Yoga?

This question has been on many a yogi's mind lately because of an article in the New York Times from this last weekend. Mary Billard, its author, interviewed a number of yoga practitioners who are forgoing their mats in favor of a simpler practice. They are eliminating the barrier between them and their yoga studio floor, their living room carpet and wherever else they choose to practice. These yogis cite a number of reasons for this including the commercialization of yoga mats, their potential damage to the environment as well as a desire to get back to the traditional practice of yoga without all the accessories.

I, for one, love accessories. They always make an outfit and I believe the same can be true for a yoga practice (or any other kind of spiritual practice, for that matter). For me, having something tangible that symbolizes and signifies my yoga practice is extremely helpful. When I take my mat out, unroll it and get on it, I know it's yoga time. It's sacred time, ME time and quiet time. Even our tiny apartment transforms into a sacred space when my red mat comes out. If I didn't have the mat out, it'd just be the floor. And what would separate me from the cat hair my cat places strategically around the apartment to make anything dark I have on look disgusting?

I think what I am saying is, as humans, it is extremely helpful to have something tangible to help us get into a "sacred state of mind" (I think that's a Billy Joel Song?). Catholics call this the need for mediation. We need something to mediate our experience with the sacred because the sacred (or God) is invisible. Think of any kind of prayer beads: the prayer certainly could pray without them but it is so helpful to hold them while he prays because they are physical, touchable, just as we are. The feeling of the beads helps him know that he is engaging in a sacred act and it therefore encourages that sacred act.

I can certainly see that Yoga is a risk for becoming extremely commercialized but I'm not sure that is reason enough to ditch the mat. Take a look at what Jade Yoga is doing. Their mats are made sustainably in the U.S. and every time you buy one of their mats, they plant a tree.

Another reason I need a mat is because I am a sweater. I don't get this from Claudymom because she doesn't sweat, she glows. My sweaty hands and feet would cause me to slip all over the place on hardwood floors and I just don't feel like mopping every time I do yoga. Or slamming my face into the floor because my hands slip in Downward Dog.

I also really need the support of a good mat for my knees. The pose below, Anjaneyasana (low lunge), would hurt like a mother if I did it on hardwood floor. My cute red mat protects me. Hurray!

So, I am taking a different side here. As much as I love that yoga is being written about in the NY Times, I sure hope they're wrong when it comes to the trend of ditching one's mat.