Chara, Psychopaths, and the Kick

1500 Games 

Zdeno Chara played his 1500th hockey game last night. Can you imagine that?? Hockey players play 82 games a season.


 Russ and I were watching a Bruins game the other night when two players collided into each other. One player skated away and the other guy hit the ice with his face. He was already knocked out cold before he even hit the ground. They took him away on a stretcher and there was blood everywhere.

Hockey is a fast, and brutal, sport.

Chara, the Captain of the Boston Bruins, is my favorite player. I picked him because he has defied some odds in order to play hockey and for the league to take him seriously. For starters, Chara is the tallest player to ever play in the league. He stands at 6’ 9” and weighs in at 250-pounds.

Imagine getting checked against the boards by that. 

 Chara is not unlike many of the event horses I picked for myself—tall, long and lean, strong, and quick on his feet with a lot of heart.

Chara is the five-star champion event horse of hockey.

 Mind the Mat

I skipped “Sculpt” this morning in lieu of one more yoga class. The “luxurious” part of the aches and pains incurred from the last two days dulled down to the nitty-gritty part of soreness when I first stood up out of bed. It’s the part that is just plain ugly and un-fun, like waking up with the beer goggles ripped off and the hangover in full swing.

Not pretty.

So today was my third time in this yoga class. Just for kicks, I’ve placed my mat in a different spot in the back of the room every day. I’m usually the first one in the room, which means I have dibs on the serious business of selecting a location for my mat. This can be a bit of a thing with yogis.

I always seek the back left corner of any studio. I’m like a homing pigeon as soon as I enter the room. It just beckons me to settle there and I do, happily. Everyone has their place they like to be. I don’t like the front of a studio for a few reasons. First, I don’t want to stare at the wall that’s right in front of my face. Being in the back creates the illusion of “space” with the depth of people in front of me. Second, the flip side of that is I don’t necessarily want to be included in that illusion for other people. I’ve got enough going on on my own mat, and I don’t need to be the fly in their ointment as I’m flailing about.

Today, after hitting the two back corners of the room consecutively this week, I placed my mat in the middle of the back row. I’m moving my mat about, to get me out of my own comfort zone, but also because…well…it’s just funny to watch the other early birds arrive and walk in and stand there wondering what to do next.

When you move your mat about, you are always in someone else’s spot. For a second, the person whose spot you have taken doesn’t know what to do next. They inevitably twirl slowly around, scanning the room for where the next best place to land might be. It reminds me of my parent’s many cats tiptoeing around in their litter box, trying to find the perfect place before committing to their own moment of “Om.” Eventually, the yogi decides on a spot, and off they go.  What I haven’t wrapped my head around are the people who pick the middle of the room to place their mat. By choice.

Who are these people?

There is plenty of room at the edges of the room, yet, they gravitate to the fat belly of the room, wide-open for the taking. Usually, these spaces are reserved for the stragglers, the ones who cannot for the life of them, get to class on time. As more stragglers pile in, the space shrinks, and pretty soon they are sheepishly asking the other stragglers, who arrived slightly before them, to move their mat so they can squeeze in.

In the pecking order of yogis, this is the bottom of the food chain.

(I do not understand being late to this class. It occurs before even a single coffee shop opens for business in DC. When I walk to class, it’s just me, the produce delivery guys, the construction workers, and the cabbies lined up in front of the hotels. That’s it. So basically, all you stragglers out there have zero excuse, minus the call of your pillow and your lack of resolve to part from it).

 Part of my confusion with choosing the middle of the room is there are no walls and walls are a yogi’s friend, especially when inverting (a.k.a. going upside down). Granted, some people are further along in their practice and don’t require the assistance of a wall, but I never turn down the opportunity. A wall can be the Fred Astaire to the yogi’s Ginger Rogers.

It can give you wings.

 The early birds who pick the middle of the room on purpose are merely psychopaths dressed in spandex. It’s Occam’s Razor—the simplest explanation to an otherwise perplexing, and concerning, conundrum. Picking the middle of the room is like choosing an oceanic swell to learn to swim in.

You’d have to be nuts to sign up for that.

Next week I’ll move away from the back of the room and hit the front with my mat, displacing all the slick and pretty, professional yogis who are always lined up there.

That’s only half nuts…more like slightly embarrassing….

 Kegel First Thing in the Morning

After cleaning myself up at home, I started my walk to work. Scanning Facebook quickly, an ad came across my screen for a “Kegel Exerciser with a Kick.”

It begs the question…

Who comes up with this shit??

When I told Russ, he wanted to know, “So what does it do exactly??”

What he really wanted to know (and asked) was…”So what’s the KICK part??”

I told him I didn’t know as I didn’t want to open the attachment and reinforce Facebook’s idea that I needed a Kegel intervention. Some things are better left well enough alone.

Dear Facebook,

What are you trying to tell me?

What happened to my ads for shoes and theatre tickets?


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