Since the move to DC in January of this year I can count the times I have practiced yoga on one hand and I have run a total of 2 miles. And I don’t care.
My motivation is gone. I cannot think too much about my time in Hawaii or dwell on the loss of my yoga community and running buddy. That will put me in bed for a day/days, with no hope of unearthing myself from my blanket burrow. Practicing yoga alone in my living room, or at some swish studio in Arlington, where the vibe is so off, makes me feel the loss of my old life so keenly that I don’t care a rat’s backside for ‘my fitness’.
I ran 2 miles on a treadmill and was quite satisfied that I managed that without dying. Going for a run outside is only just now looking possible as the weather is becoming more tolerable- I haven’t any desire to don running gear suited for these temps and brave the cold hard streets of my new neighborhood.
My fitness is not a thing of the past, it’s on pause. Spring is coming, mayhaps I’ll put aside my mourning and begin again with the cherry blossoms. Until then I will count my early daily walk with the dog and my walk to and from school as my activity. 2015- the year of the sloth.