All Aboard the Yoga Titanic

On Friday night, someone broke into my apartment, stole half the vodka out of my newly purchased handle and then fled, hitting me over the head with the bottle on the way out.

…at least that’s the only possible explanation I can come up with for why I felt so stellar yesterday morning.

Given the injuries sustained in the robbery, I was less than excited to wake up at 6am to drive north to Annapolis for yoga on a boat.

A few months ago, a group of us purchased Living Social Adventure passes for a 2 hour yoga cruise. At the time, it sounded like a great idea. Sweating! On a boat! Outside! In the sunshine! With friends! And coconut water!

Add in some brutal aftermath from Friday evening festivities and in the words of my wise companion John Jeff, it was less yoga yacht, more Yoga Titanic.

I don’t know if any of you have ever tried to spend 90 minutes rotating between down dog and up dog and 18 poses named after various animals and plant life while the motion of a large boat challenges your ability to both balance and hold down your Luna bar after a long night out, but trust me, it’s not fun. Or easy.

Also, I don’t know if y’all know this, but yoga is not exactly one of my athletic strengths. I’m pretty much the least flexible human being in the world and I can’t really do a single yoga pose other than child’s pose.  But man, I spent some serious time showing the whole boat full of yogis, just how bad ass my child’s pose is.

Luckily, the class seemed to be geared toward people who fall in the yoga dunce category. It was pretty slow paced, full of more stretching than burning, and the teacher paused more than once to provide some built in photo ops.

The blogger in me was very appreciative. The athlete, less so. As much as I love putting my life out there on the world wide web, my failure as a student of yoga is just not something that should ever be documented with very many pictures. So instead, I took lots of shots of my more accomplished and super hot friends.

Other than the whole yoga thing, hanging on a boat for a few hours with some of my fave DC sweat lovers was pretty stellar. Next time I’m suggesting we leave the yoga mats at home, run to the docks, and then cruise around with cocktails in hand…we can even still wear spandex.

By the time we were done wandering the streets of Annapolis and brunching, we got back to DC just in time for peak heat. With a heat index of 110+, my running partner managed to convince me to choose double digit treadmill miles over death, and I took my run indoors. You can imagine how thrilled I was to have a weekend day of workouts made up of yoga and treadmilling. Yeah.

(I’m sorry if my comments offend any yogis out there. It’s not that I think yoga is a bad workout. It’s just that I suck at it.)