Day 47 of Bikram Challenge. Day 3652 of Sobriety Challenge.

I'm 47 days into my Bikram yoga 60-day challenge with Pure Bikram. And on this 47th day, it's also my sobriety date. I'm now 3652 days clean and sober. My husband Chad also has 10 years (11 more days than me, though. He got the jump on me). To read more about how our sobriety "challenge" began, go to "(Trying to Get) Back to Bikram."

10 years. There must be some mistake. We must have slipped up somewhere. Being married to your partner in crime that you're now partners in recovery with definitely has its slippery moments. We still fall into the trap of romanticizing our past and pondering a rebellion. But with acceptance, accountability, support, grace, luck......we've somehow been continuous. Not cured--we still have take-it-too-far personalities, but we've remained in remission. A crazy miracle. Everyone in recovery is.

AA gives out coins to recognize milestones in sobriety, but you can also buy fancier coins, and each year my mom, who also has a February sobriety date and is 17 years sober, sends Chad and I one of these colorful, shiny coins. Isn't it funny how you can shop online for anything? recoverysuperstore.com, my12stepstore.com, aarecoverycoinsstore.com. Obviously, I was taking a peak at these recovery shopping sites. I came upon this "Red Hot Flames" coin and thought that went perfectly with this 60-day challenge I'm burning up in right now. (Click on it--check out the glitter!) And Pure Bikram's logo has flames on it, too. So I asked my mom if this could be my coin from her this year. Thanks, Mom! I love my red hot flames coin! And Chad does, too. And yes: Our girls know what the coins are about. Not too young to start arming my girlies with awareness--a weapon they can use to guard their innocence and protect their hopes and dreams.

I'd like to ramble for a sec about finish lines. I've been drawn to them, motivated by them--with marathons, triathlons, etc... Finish lines have given me a sense of accomplishment and kept me out of trouble. But there's also a flip side to them. After I cross one, then it's  Now what?  Without a finish line, I tend to become lost. And so I sign up for another one.

With sobriety, there is no finish line. I often wish there were! But there isn't. Lots of AA slogans to help cope with that overwhelming reality: "Live in the now," "Just for today," "One day at a time," "Sobriety is a journey, not a destination," and many, MANY more. When thoughts of never again and forever and ever enter my mind...and bum me out, I like to pretend that there is sobriety finish line out there--in my twisted, fantasy world. Even after 10 years, the thought of never again is still too much for me. And so I continue to play the mind game that I'm not abstaining forever--just today.

With this Bikram challenge, though, there is an actual finish line, and in 13 days (if all goes well), I'm going to cross it. I'm afraid of another Now what? moment and feeling lost again. Can I treat my yoga practice the way I treat my sobriety? One class at a time. One posture at a time. Or will I fall off the Bikram wagon? Hopefully, I will learn that yoga is a journey, not a destination.

"Keep coming back. It works if you work it."

Halfway There. Keep Flapping Those Wings. Pure Bikram's 60-Day Challenge

In December, I wrote something for an Austin blogger's site about my tendency towards all-or-nothing behavior ("The Mysterious Middle" for MizFitOnline). Well, looks like extreme won over moderation again. For the last 29 days and 30 classes, I've been participating in Pure Bikram's 60-Day Challenge. Halfway there.

I completed a Bikram challenge in 2009 and loved it, but unfortunately, just two days afterwards, I had a freak accident on a rollerskating rink and severely ruptured my L4/L5 disc, leaving me no choice but to have back surgery.  Crazy, crazy to have my 60 days stripped away from me like that, but at least it happened after I was finished and not on like Day 59!

Random thoughts, moments, images so far for this challenge...

My braids. I'm not cool like Willie, but this is the hairstyle I'm usually sporting in class. Sometimes a single braid in the back, but the double works better when I'm lying in savasana.

"Why does your Rabbit pose suck?" During Class 6, the teacher shared with us how her dad had seen photos from the Texas Yoga Asana Championship and offered this subtle critique to her. So funny. Rabbit is definitely my most challenging posture. Quoting from another post I wrote, "But I've always had a sick rabbit, and I don't mean sick as in 'This beat is sick' (Yes, Lady Gaga). I mean sick as in you want to rush my rabbit to the vet."

I've discussed this MRI image on my blog plenty of times, and here I go again. One of the images of my back injury (one year after surgery, actually). My spinal canal is pretty and wide till you get down to L4/L5. Then it gets ugly. (Click on it. Get a close look.) I also have scoliosis. A curvy, twisty slide inside, causing my right shoulder blade to stick out. Wore a brace for 2 years in middle school--lots of fun. I have no idea if these things contribute to my struggle to do Rabbit, but ugh. That dang pose. I'll get you someday, Rabbit. Fatal Attraction, Glen Close style. (Just kidding--I love critter friends.)

Did you know that at the Westlake studio, when your ear is to the floor during savasana of the spine-strengthening series, you can sometimes hear some kind of secret factory down below? Like a Wonka chocolate factory. Or maybe it's a top secret, Apple computer lab, and they're inventing a teeny tiny ipod that you can hide inside your ear canals. Soon, I'll be secretly jamming during class. The Bikram teachers will never know.

Sometimes the heat and humidity wins. The mind game is too hard that day, and my patience slips away. On the outside, I may look like business as usual, but on the inside, I'm panicking: WTF? This is ridiculous. How can I get out of here? Quoting from another post I wrote, sometimes it feels like the teacher is "microwaving a steam bag of yoga students tossed in a tangy perspiration sauce with essence of B.O."




"Solid, Concrete, One piece, Lamppost, Unbroken. You have no knee." For those who haven't been to a Bikram class, that's part of the dialogue the teachers say for one of the balancing series postures. The lamp from A Christmas Story keeps coming to mind. All of us in the room balancing on high-heeled, fishnet legs with lampshades on our heads.

Yo, DJ, pump this party. When I'm lying in savasana after Camel pose, sometimes I feel like the teacher is the DJ and my heart is the bass, booming from inside my chest. We're all at a Bikram rave, and we're wearing lights on our fingers and in our mouths. Oh wait--no mouth breathing. We won't see our mouth lights, except for the breathing exercises and the sit-ups. But that would be cool--our disco light mouths exhaling in unison.

I've participated in other types of challenges. Marathons. A few triathlons. Ironman Texas. The MS150. The Colorado River 100 canoe race. And now I'm working on my second Bikram challenge. These events give the impression that I'm a healthy person. It's a facade. I'm a total poser, a phony. That struggle with moderation that I mentioned earlier? I've kept my more harmful addictions in remission for a number of years, but I'm still a prisoner of two powerful villains. 

The first one is my sweet tooth. Nothing can stop her. She didn't affect me much when I was a runner, torching a few thousand calories a week, but since I retired from running last May due to my back troubles, her ghastly gluttony is making my jeans tight. Bikram is helping me fight back, but I still can't stop myself from meeting up with my dessert dealers. They are...

Tiff's Treats: an MandM cookie appetizer for the ride home. And then their big, fat, heated brownie once I get home.

Whole Foods: tres leches parfait, and the cinnamon bread pudding at the hot dessert bar--with a dollop of tres leches cream poured over it.

Good 2 Go (The Grove's to-go place next door): their cookies. They're sprinkled with sea salt--an interesting, yummy twist to the cookie. I found out yesterday, though, that they may stop making them!

Great Harvest Bread: cranberry-almond scone and oatmeal chocolate chip cookie. And always a hefty sample slice of something.
Schlotzsky's (the big one on S. Lamar): chocolate chunk cookie, no nuts, and their holiday icing cookies.

Randall's Grocery: their holiday icing cookies. Right now, they're Mardi Gras. (You have to be really nasty and hardcore to eat these guys.)

The second villain is "Venti bold, no room" from Starbucks. My husband (who is just as crazy as I am) and I are both powerless over this potion. Maybe we'll just move on from Venti and start buying those 96-ounce cardboard travelers. Can that count towards the liters of fluids I'm supposed to be drinking for the challenge? What's ridiculous is that I wrote a post two years ago discussing my problem with sugar and caffeine. Sure have made a lot of progress.

"Some Like It Hot"--On Day 20, while my family and I enjoyed our queso and cheesesteaks at Texadelphia, this 80's nugget came on. Bikram-motivating lyrics...

Feel the heat pushing you to decide

Feel the heat burning you up, ready or not

Some like it hot and some sweat when the heat is on

Some feel the heat and decide that they can't go on

Some like it hot, but you can't tell how hot till you try

Some like it hot, so let's turn up the heat till we fry

"I should have let him tag me." On Day 10, I was extra early to the Downtown noon class, so I was in my car playing with my iPhone. Got a call from the school nurse that my daughter Parker had jumped off the playground thingy during recess and landed badly on her wrist. So grateful I got the call before disappearing into the torture chamber. My sweet girl fractured her radius. Ugh. Terrible. Parker loves tae kwon do, and unfortunately, she's out for 4-6 weeks and can't test for this cycle. I'm so sorry, Sweet Girl.

If I'm showing a picture of one of my daughters, then I've gotta have a pic of my other sweet girl, too. Here's Miss Bridget. She started a yoga class in December at Kula and loves it. She also enjoys Wii yoga. (Click on her and you can see she's donning my 60-day challenge tee from 2009.)

I know a mother isn't suppose to have favorites, and I love all of my Fauna Extreme critters, but the bar-tailed godwit has a special place in my heart (or, on my back, I guess I should say). To fly between Alaska and New Zealand without a break for 8 or 9 days is just so amazing. She's my symbol of rising to the occasion. If I were to have a third daughter, I'd probably name her Miranda, which is what scientists named a bar-tailed godwit that they put a tracking device on in 2007 to record this ultra-endurance queen's record-holding, longest nonstop migration.

So.......me and the other 370+ yogis who signed up for Pure Bikram's 60-day challenge: We're all bar-tailed godwits. We're halfway across the Pacific. Let's keep going! Keep flapping those wings. See you at the finish line!

The Mysterious Middle--Guest Writing for MizFitOnline

In October, I met a mom from my daughter's kindergarten class who has a really great fitness blog called MizFitOnline. She asked me to be a guest writer. Here's what I wrote for her!

The Mysterious Middle

Also, just want to highlight my favorite post for 2011:

(Trying to Get) Back to Bikram

The Colorado River 100

For many posts on this blog, I've rambled on and on about marathons, triathlons, the MS150 and Bikram yoga. These athletic endeavors are very mainstream and familiar. I'm not dissing their difficulty by labeling them this way; I'm just saying that these goals are popular and a typical choice people make when they decide they want to take on a physical challenge.

My dad's choice of challenge is not mainstream. I think most people, me included--until now, are quite unfamiliar with the sport he loves. My dad canoes. And I don't mean "Oh-let's-glide-down-the-river-for-a couple-of-hours-and-enjoy-the-pretty-scenery" type of canoeing. I mean the Texas Water Safari, a race most (or those in the know) consider to be the most difficult canoe race in the world, and honestly, one of the toughest races period. It's 260 miles, from San Marcos to Sea Drift, TX--with numerous, tiring portages--and you have to finish in under 100 hours or you're disqualified. My dad has participated in this craziness twelve times.

This writing here is from the entry form for the Texas Water Safari:

The Texas Water Safari is a long, grueling race that is extremely demanding, both physically and mentally. Entrants are encouraged to consult a physician to ensure that they are in good health and can withstand the rigors that participation entails. The physical demands of the race, combined with sleep deprivation, heat, dehydration and exhaustion, often cause participants to become disoriented. Amnesia, hallucinations and other debilitating conditions are not uncommon. Such effect can impair judgment, a condition especially dangerous for a solo paddler. (My dad has finished the Safari twice solo!)

It goes on to discuss the dangers of the river. One year, my dad's partner broke his leg after he fell into the water (possibly from falling asleep while paddling). He hung onto the canoe, drifting and waiting for a gravel bar along the shore so he could climb back in, and while drifting, he hit a rock or something, cracking his tibia.

The writing then goes on to warn about the disorientation of heat exhaustion and danger of heat stroke. One year, my dad told me about a guy who got out of his canoe, removed all of his clothes and wandered off. Police searched for and detained the naked man in a nearby neighborhood.

Then it warns about animals--snake bites, alligators, wasps, fire ants, stingrays (that participants have stepped on at the end when you get to the bay), etc... My dad told me about a freak accident where an alligator gar jumped out of the water, hitting a woman square in the chest, breaking her ribs. But the animal story I will forever love: One time, my dad was trying to get a couple of hours of sleep, but there was a noisy bullfrog nearby. Somehow he was able to locate the frog. He picked it up and threw it as far as he could.

Here's how the entry form concludes:

There is danger in all outdoor sports, but there are wonderful benefits to be gained. There is a fine line between “gutting it out” and pushing on in the face of pain on the one hand, and failing to recognize the danger signs on the other. This race is not for everyone, the best you can do (what we have all done in the past) is talk to other racers, enter races of shorter duration and gain experience... There is no disgrace in pulling over to rest for awhile. Some of the top finishers have done so and some of the best racers in Safari history have been forced to drop out. But, when you finish, you will find, as former recorder-holder John Bugge has repeatedly said, that you are a different person....for life...

The Water Safari is NOT the race I recently did with my dad. I participated with him in the Colorado River 100--a 100-mile event. While this race is definitely difficult, it's nowhere near the Water Safari, which takes place on the San Marcos and Guadalupe rivers. First of all, there are no dams and portages in the Colorado 100--a huge difference. My puny arms and damaged back could never handle portages. And second of all, obviously, the CR100 is a 160 miles shorter than the Safari! During our three practice runs to prepare, I quickly learned that my weak mind could never take on the Safari's mental challenge of being constricted in the canoe and on the river for so long. We finished the CR100 in 24:39:32--and during our race, I really relied on my iPod. I've mentioned on this blog about how much I loved my iPod when I was a runner, but I needed my iPod on the river; I would have been in serious trouble without it. (And I actually brought two iPods, knowing the charge would run out on me with the first one.) And this was just for a 100-mile race, not 260 miles! My dad's best Safari time is 70-something hours. These rivers, the Colorado included, are not white water. I often felt like I was paddling in a winding lake. So to paddle for 24 hours multiplied by 3? So hard to wrap my brain around that.

So again: twelve times my dad has shown up at the starting line of the Texas Water Safari, with five finishes--twice alone (amaaaazing) and three other times with a partner or a three-man boat. My brother Steven finished with him one of those successful years. The other attempts that fell short were due to damaged canoes, damaged partners and not meeting time cutoffs. And also, very important to point out: many years the Safari has terrible, low-water conditions. Basically, anybody that crosses the finish line of the Safari must feel like the ultimate badass (once they've recovered from their hallucinations and exhaustion). Now that I've done some paddling myself and experienced a canoe race firsthand, I'm even more impressed, blown away, and confused by those that complete such a grueling race and return to do it again and again. So amazing...and insane. :)

If the Texas Water Safari were to be compared to a marathon, then the Colorado River 100 would be a 10K--a 10K that I'm so glad and grateful I got to experience with my dad. He and my stepmother Janet, our team captain, pretty much handed this accomplishment to me. They did all of the organizing, supplying and stressing. All I did was show up and try my best not to be pathetic.

We did it, Dad! I love you.

Pictures: My dad surprised me the evening before the race with the names "Ironman" and "Dad" on our canoe. I was laughing and thought it was great. The label of "Dad" was rather humble, though, right? More like, "Daughter" and "Ironcanoer" or "Ironpaddler."

Click here if you'd like to see photos from this year's 2011 Water Safari from the Austin American Statesman.

(Trying to Get) Back to Bikram

Other title considerations...

Are You There, Bikram? It's Me, Sarah

Help Me, Bikram Choudhury. You're My Only Hope.

I took my first Bikram yoga class in spring of 2002. At this time, my husband Chad and I were mopping up a big 'ol mess we had spilled all over our lives. At this time, we were both about three months sober. Me--recently completing two and a half months of treatment followed by living on my own in Tampa, FL. And Chad--in Houston, where we're from, immersing himself in AA and spending time with a sponsor. (Chad had done treatment and AA in his past before we met, so we decided on the plan of just me going away to treatment and him staying back and working on his recovery at home, immersing himself once again in AA.) Being apart was crucial to our success. Our love was strong, but we were partners in crime and serious sobriety saboteurs for each other.

So I was in Tampa, trying to build some confidence. Rented a cute duplex and got a little job at a bakery called Pane Rustica. (Yummy place to go if you're ever in Tampa.) The manager there told me about Bikram and invited me to try a class with her. This intense, yoga experience had a very strong first impression on me, arriving at such a vulnerable time in my life. I had been struggling, self-loathing, hopeless. But that Bikram class snapped me out of that sad state for 90 minutes. It ignited foreign feelings like contentment, hope and appreciation.

I had not been an athletic person since high school. And obviously, for a long time, I had been treating my body like crap. And I was still a smoker. Funny to light up a cigarette when you're driving home from yoga. But this yoga--was my first time in years to try a physical challenge. Bikram was there for me first, before my running, which I've written a lot about on this blog, and I'll bring up again in just a minute.

I only got to take a couple more classes because a surprise came: Chad and I were going to have a baby. (He came to Tampa for a visit as soon as I got out of treatment.) I often wonder if Chad and I would have our semi-longterm sobriety if I hadn't gotten pregnant with our daughter Parker. I think of Parker as an angel sent to save us--and to save our family and friends from losing us. I'm pretty positive that without her, Chad and I wouldn't have this nine-year chunk of sobriety. Difficult to gather up years when you start in your twenties. (For me at least--only talk about yourself when you talk recovery talk. The "we," "our" and "you" talkers? Na uh. No.)

Anyway...I quit because I didn't have anywhere near the foundation a woman needs who is going to continue her practice during her pregnancy. But Bikram left a lasting imprint. That bakery manager's gift to me would turn out to be something that I returned to, picked up and tinkered with, again and again.

Once we knew about Parker, living in Tampa was out. That was the longterm recovery plan--for Chad and I to have some time apart and then for him to move to Tampa. Too many tempting memories and mayhem in Houston for us. But now that Parker was coming, she was our little antabuse, and Houston and each other were no longer such threats to our recovery. Plus, that's where all the grandparents lived! So I came back to Houston and to Chad, and after Parker was born, I began to play around again with Bikram. Not going consistently, but buying the ten-class option and trying to get 'em all in before the month was over. So definitely not a serious student, but Bikram was back in my life. I remember Mike and Joani, the owners of the Houston studios. Very nice. I remember the teacher and manager Tony when I took class at the Fountainview location by my mom while she watched Parker for me. Really great.

But then I decided to run a marathon. Huh? Where did that come from? After Parker turned one, I was antsy from being a stay-at-home mommy. And an only one-year-eleven-months-sober mommy at that. No evening glass of wine to unwind with. No mother's little helper. I needed a goal. And for whatever reason, I came up with running a marathon. See "Waiting for the End. Part One--Marathon Mayhem" for more details about this time in my life.

Extra detail--on my thirtieth birthday, a couple of months before my first marathon, Chad surprised me with a weekend retreat in Austin with Rajashree, Bikram's wife. That was neat. She's funny. And beautiful. So sweet of Chad to come up with that present for my thirtieth.

Months after the retreat with Rajashree, we moved to The Woodlands, a suburb just north of Houston--a place that I would call a runner's paradise. Miles and miles of flat, sidewalk trails that you can crisscross and change around. So many parks with water fountains and bathrooms. And a lot of running and triathlon groups. I knew before we moved to The Woodlands that a new Bikram studio would be opening there. Knowing that was actually one of the parts of the pros vs. cons to moving. A very small part of the decision, but still a part! I would have been bummed to not have Bikram close to me. But like I said, The Woodlands is the perfect place to run, and I quickly fell hard for the sport. Consequently, my Bikram practice became a distant second to my running.

The Woodlands studio is really nice. Like a spa. Arnie and Jen, the owners, are very sweet. But running was now first, then yoga. I did take advantage of the exchange offer they had of earning two classes every time you babysat for the 9:30 class. I really liked that. Made my yoga free, so Chad couldn't roll his eyes at me yet again for another thing I was spending money on myself for and my non-working life. But we had another daughter now, too--Bridget, so I was still earning my keep, taking care of our two little girls, right, Honey?

In March of 2009, I asked a few of my running friends to take on a 60-day Bikram challenge with me. Go to "Will I Get it Together in Time for IMTX?" to read about that experience, and what you'll find out is that just two days after we completed the challenge, I had a rollerskating accident and severely ruptured my L4/L5 disc, leaving me no choice but to have back surgery. So depressing to have those 60 days of Bikram taken away from me, in addition to all of the progress I had made as a runner. I had PR'd at the Houston Marathon just a few months before--a feat that I worked my butt off for, so again--extremely discouraging. The surgery totally cured my scary, off-the-chart, sciatica symptoms, but the accident left me with a half-disc that would turn out to only be able to handle two more years of long-distance running. And it also left me with a new, disenchanted attitude towards the world of races. (The focus of "Waiting for the End" is my struggle with this reality, and "Part 3--Satisfied Surrender" is the conclusion of what recently went down with me and races.)

So after the surgery and recovery time, I returned to running, throwing in only a tiny sprinkle of Bikram, and then we moved to Austin last August--where from then till just this past May was my temporary relationship with triathlons...and zero Bikram. (See "Parts 1, 2 and 3." Sorry. Broken record. That's the last time I'll say that.)

And now the present!

I'm retired from races, and I've been struggling with whether or not to be totally done with running. Since Ironman Texas in May, I've managed a couple of runs without problems, but for the most part, the runs I've been on...have sucked. Left me frustrated. And sad. And walking.

My back is only 36 years old (Okay. Almost 37.), and it's already missing half a disc and also has two bulging ones. The right thing to do, the smart thing to do...is to not run anymore. And that's what I've finally decided to do.

It's heartbreaking to let something go that I love so much. But if that something is no longer good for me...if it's now hurting me...then I've got to let it go. A bit of similarity there, huh? Not the first time I've had to painfully say goodbye to some things that were hurting me. More like, agonizing...grieving over losing things that were kicking my ass. Peculiar stuff--that it could be so difficult to release your grip from things that are destroying you. (For me--broke the rule I was preachy about earlier.)

So what now? What's going to keep me out of trouble? I learned I'm not a cyclist or a swimmer. No fireworks or connection with either of them for me. (Well, cycling did have some amazing moments. We were a fling, though.) But there was definitely a spark between me and Bikram, and I'm now trying to reconnect with this always welcoming friend. I finally put my money where my mouth is and bought the $49, 30-day intro special at Pure Bikram. The switch is huge for me--coming down from this past year of ironman training, the MS150 and the years of marathons before that. I'm replacing my beloved ipod runs for a yoga room where I silently stare at myself in the mirror. I don't think the teachers are ever going to let me practice while listening to Tool or the Beastie Boys.

Here's what's gone down for my first 30 days back at Bikram...

Day 1, Class 1: Pure Bikram's Westlake studio. I had been here once before, when Chad and I were in Austin for a weekend getaway. So when the instructor looked me up on their computer, there I was, with details: He read to me that I was there in July of '09 and had recently undergone surgery for a disc herniation. Wow. That's right. My mushy brain didn't recall the timing--that I had been here just over a month after my back surgery. And now here I was again--two years, one month later. It hadn't been quite that long since my last time to do Bikram, though. Well, maybe it was, because I was about to say that my last class was in The Woodlands, but Arnie and Jen were in the process of changing over to their 5o-minute, express hot yoga classes. So an express class was the last class I took (They're fun! I liked it.), so the Pure Bikram class just over two years ago was my last time I had done traditional, 90-minute Bikram. My thoughts during the class:

It's awesome.

It always is.

My body is such an achy wreck.

I'm going to be fine; this will be my thing now.

Maybe I'll be a teacher someday.

The training is so expensive, though.

And how would I be away from Chad and the girls for that long?

I wonder if someday I could ever be in a yoga competition?

Ugh! I'm such a spaz. Why can't I just be satisfied with the present, with the experience? Why do I need to make everything bigger? Why am I so extreme? Sigh. Because I'm just someone who has a hard time with the art of moderation.

Day 3, Class 2: Downtown Pure Bikram location. Thoughts--pretty much the same thoughts as the first class. My body is a mess. Want to become a Bikram teacher. And also become the greatest yoga champion the world has ever seen. A yoga superhero, with a cape and mask. "Who was that masked yogini?" :) I also thought, this is like a 90-minute Ironman Texas. Heat. Humidity. Hard.

Day 5, Class 3: Downtown. The teacher's name was Michael. On this Father's Day morning, I made the trip to Starbucks for Chad and me. Two Venti bolds, no room. Perfect example of the moderation problem. (To really get a good look at my nasty, gluttonous nature, read "Hopefully the Year of the Tiger...and Not the Kitten." ) After getting the coffee, I also stopped at the grocery store and bought a last minute cookie cake for the girls and I to give to Chad for his day. It said "Happy Father's Day" and was decorated with plastic pieces that were a fishing theme (fish, pole, tacklebox). Chad--our big fisherman (not at all). And there were blue icing waves on the cake--but not enough icing in my opinion, so I went over to the baking aisle and grabbed a can of more blue icing for the girls to squirt more waves onto Daddy's cake--which turned out to be Mommy's cake all morning before this third yoga class. Who knows, I could be wrong, but I'm guessing I was the only one in class with blue-stained teeth.

Alright, enough of that. For this class, I was able to get my fingers under my feet during Standing Separate Leg Stretching--always a toughie for me when I first come back to Bikram. Looking forward to more of those little improvements. Like my Rabbit pose: Presently, it's a barely alive Rabbit pose--can barely lift my butt up. But I've always had a sick rabbit, and I don't mean sick as in "This beat is sick" (Yes. Lady Gaga). I mean sick as in you want to rush my rabbit to the vet.

Day 14, Class 4: Alright, so I went eight days without going to a class. Don't know what happened. I was all fired up, and then? Oh well. At least I made it back. 5:30, downtown. Crowded! Wow. Been a very long time since I was in a class like that, but it was fine. A tough, great class, taught by Marco, the teacher who helped me on day 1 and read the notes about me on the computer. I was really hot today. Perhaps because it was packed? Or just because I was battling the heat. Anyhow, I was super glad when the end had arrived! Noticed some minor improvements again, despite the eight day absence--didn't have to bend my knees quite so much for a handful of poses.

Day 16, Class 5: 6:30, downtown. Not sure of the teacher's name. She had an accent. The heat was not as hard for me today. My first time in the other practice room. Pure Bikram is amazing--there are so many class times, so I really have no way of using the excuse that I just can't make a class on whatever day.

I felt good today. Continuing to notice less knee bending. Have a long way to go, though, before I'll be able to lock those knees. And so far I'm remaining disciplined with my choice not to kick out yet for Standing Head to Knee. Perhaps after a couple more classes, I'll try. We'll see. Felt some tingling in my left leg after each time I came out of Camel pose. Before my back injury, I had been living with functional sciatica for over a year, in my left rear end, so this sensation isn't alarming. I'm an old pro with tingling in the left leg.

Day 18, Class 6: 4:30, Westlake. With Mardy.

I have scoliosis. Wore a brace for two years in middle school for sixteen hours a day. Fun stuff. I chose for my eight hours brace-free to be while I was at school. Would much rather sleep in a brace then wear one around my friends all day. Middle school years--already awkward enough, right? Anyhow, my right shoulder blade sticks out because of the curve and slight twist in my spine, and for today's Cobra pose, while lying there waiting for the cue to begin the posture, I really noticed it. Very pronounced when I'm down like this with my hands flat below my shoulders. I wonder if years of dedicated practice could shift it back at all? Not sure I'm a years-of-dedicated-practice type of person, though!

Day 21, Class 7: So I've now started a ten day vacation in Galveston with my family. But, Chad and I headed to Houston for one night at my mom's house for some rare alone time while my mom watched our girls for us back in Galveston at the rental. And while I was in Houston, I took a noon class at the South Blvd. location. I was happy and surprised to see that Tony was teaching. Didn't occur to me at all that I might have a teacher I knew. And he remembered me! He heard me after class speaking with the woman at the front desk, updating my info, and he said hi and asked about me. So sweet of him.

I kicked out today for Standing Head to Knee. Just figured I would check it out. Went pretty well, considering how out of Bikram shape I am. Wasn't locking my lifted leg, but I held it up the duration of the posture for each set. I wish there wasn't this big gap coming up before my next class, but I'm back to Galveston tomorrow morning for another week. What a ridiculous whine--that my vacation is getting in the way of my yoga.

Day 29, Class 8: 4:00, downtown. My third time with Marco. He gave me a couple of posture corrections in class today, which made me feel good. I was smiling when I couldn't really manage the corrections, but I appreciated him giving a moment to me. Dramatic to say, but today's class might have been the hottest class I've ever experienced in my sporadic history with Bikram. Holy sh-t, it was hot. Like Marco was microwaving a steam bag of yoga students...tossed in a tangy perspiration sauce with essence of B.O.

After class, I set up the auto pay. Here I go. How will this play out? Will I flake and drift away yet again from Bikram? Will I become a teacher and yoga superhero? Or how about just being comfortable with the middle? Not needing a finish line or an accomplishment and simply enjoying the moment.

Wish me luck. I think I'll borrow some animal energy from all of Fauna Extreme's athletes...

...Strength from the rhinoceros beetle, tiger and elephant.

...Strategy and patience from the red fox.

...Confidence from the brown hare.

...Speed from the cheetah, pronghorn, peregrine falcon and sailfish. (Speed to make the balancing series and Triangle go by quickly when I'm struggling!)

...And endurance and perseverance from the honey badger , my beloved bar-tailed godwit and the polar bear (and how 'bout some arctic temps, too, from the sea bear while I'm in Bikram's torture chamber!)