Day Twenty-Four

For me, a day that starts with thirty bad boys standing single file wearing orange jumpsuits that say "Inmate" has got to be a good day.

I met my favorite training partner, Rico, this morning at 8AM at El Moro for our Wednesday morning hike.  He was five minutes late, which in the old days meant he owed me five bucks, but I didn't press the issue.  I just gave him a hug and told him how happy I was that we didn't need to get up at zero-dark-thirty anymore to meet before work, on account of the fact that neither one of us work full time anymore.

"I have to get up at five-thirty in the morning on Tuesdays to meet Natasha for our runs," Rico advised.  "That gets old," he said while affixing his homemade suspender contraption complete with sleigh bells, just like Santa Claus puts on his reindeer's, this meant for scaring off wild animals or more likely, for annoying me.  We hiked five delightful miles which started out immediately uphill--up a steep hill called BFI which stands for "Big Friggin Incline."  We witnessed some spectacular ocean views through the heavy fog that was hovering over Laguna Beach this morning.  We made it back to the parking lot just in time to see the government issue high security Orange County Fire truck pull into the parking lot.  This was the second time that I'd seen this truck and I was quite excited because I knew what was held within the truck.  A bunch of bad boy inmates that were just dying to see me.  Let's just say that they're dying to see any woman, even one who's covered in sunscreen, no makeup, sweaty, hair askew and has as her companion a wiry Puerto Rican ultra-marathon runner who wears a homemade suspender contraption complete with sleigh bells and did I mention he also carries a knife?

The inmates were lined up single file by the time we got to our cars which were parked about fifty yards away.  Just as I was hoping, not one, not two, not three, but all thirty of them were quite excited to see me.  This I know, because they couldn't take their eyes off of me, especially the tall one who looked like Grizzly Adams, and the short one who looked like Uncle Fester.  But, when you're the center of attention (only because you're the only female around) to thirty bad boys, the effects are intoxicating.

After the hike, I drove straight to the Bikram Yoga studio for ninety minutes of sweating it out with all the other women (and two men) for what would be day twenty-four of my thirty day yoga challenge.  Honestly, I've been feeling a bit burnt out with yoga-every-damn-day as I'm itching to get some other workouts in like surfing with my husband or more hiking.  But when I laid my mat out and started talking to a couple of the students, I became inspired again and a bit ashamed of my lax attitude.  One of the students had back surgery about a year ago.  The thought of anyone fooling around with a sharp knife on my spine gives me the heebie-jeebies.  But she is excited about the improvements she's feeling in her body due to the yoga.  "I can feel my hips opening up."  Another student looks like she has about thirty pounds to lose.  "I'm starting to look forward to the workout and my whole day revolves around my yoga now," she said while unrolling her mat next to mine.  "I'm going for the sixty day challenge when the thirty is done."  Another student, a tall male person, told me that he quit smoking in June and also stopped taking the pain medication he was starting to get addicted to after an accident he'd been in.  "All my pain is gone since I started the yoga."

I unrolled my mat, stood in the center of the mat, looked in the mirror, took a deep breath, and felt lucky to be there.  It could be a lot worse.  I could be on weed whacking duty with the inmates in orange jumpsuits at El Moro.  Hey!  What am I waiting for?

If I had my way, this would be the new prison workout.