Sidelined only some of the time

I have been thinking about the fast-approaching Saint Patrick's Road Race, about how I would like to be in the stage of anticipation that comes with being a participant instead of regretting not doing it.

But with everything going well in the health and fitness arena, it is not a major regret. Still, last night I dreamt that I began to cry while sitting on the sidelines watching the runners line up at the start. If I could tell my subconscious to get a grip I would do it, but I know psychology does not work that way. With a whole mile under my belt, I can start to work towards next year if it ever gets nice to run more. (The "dreadmill" is not an alternative.)

I played two hours of good, fun tennis at Friday night's mixer in Enfield, with pizza afterwards. When I got home a little after 10, I had a one of Deborah's delicious cupcakes with vanilla ice cream and then watched a couple of episodes of "The Office." Pure indulgence. I woke up the next morning feeling fine, a sign that I have a pretty sturdy constitution. Still, the eating part is probably not something I should do all the time.

Yesterday morning I adjusted a pose in yoga that resembled tweaking a tennis shot. I had been having trouble getting up from cobra into downward facing dog, interrupting the flow by resting my left forearm on the mat instead of placing both palms down. I thought my left arm wasn't strong enough to bear the weight. But our instructor, Justine, said that I was relying on my arms instead of my core, and that I should start by pushing back as though into child's pose and from there up to dog.

It worked. Back at home, I have been getting down on the floor and practicing. Maddie comes over and acts as though she thinks this is an odd. Perhaps she believes she is the only one in the house who can do dog.