I love running. Based on my once
a blue moon posts about running and buying expensive gear, you may believe me
I love yoga. The deep breaths as
I arch into a scorpion pose just blow away the stresses of figuring out what to
do with my life
In all, the tensions released
from my muscles or the ability to run a whole street without breaking inspires
my wobbly heart to give it another go and another and another.
But I fell last week and for
three weeks before that I hadn’t worked out, always waiting for the perfect
moment, the subtle breeze and perfect sunset for selfies to venture out and
break a sweat.
And now I am angry, that my knee
can’t take the yoga mat. I am ready now. Boxes are all unpacked and the space
is clear for Yoga with Adrienne
Horror stories from the interweb
prevents me form tying my laces and running the streets of my neighbourhood.
Me, out there, clad in my Nike gear and looking like I am topping up my fitness
after running the London marathon this weekend.
But injuries happen and though I
am healing slowly (it’s been a whole week since the fall! Urgh) and I am going
to the doctor to have my knee checked. Hopefully, he would see past my
vanishing double chin and recognise the angst of a procrastinating fitness
fanatic. I sincerely do clean my dumb bells, I promise and I don’t go to bed
without hitting 10,000 steps on my Fitbit.
Anyone else frustrated for me?