Bikram Construction

Losing weight and getting into…or should I say…getting back into shape seems a goal that we all to often need to attain. Reaching 65 the other day had me looking at myself in the mirror and wondering how I got those little bumps on my waist. And how my muscles seem to have disappeared from my body. How the years and youth have flown. I guess that I do have the answer to that question, as Jimmy Buffett would say, “it’s truly my own damn fault.” I guess I should make some attempt in getting my running physic back. My wife feels I should and not only encourages me to do it but decides that I am unable to do it myself…where has all that knowledge and maturity of 65 years gone? But now that I have said it and she has agreed,she… as she periodically does… decides that she also must get back into shape and that she…as she always does…has the perfect routine for us to follow and that we must do it NOW. It seems that whenever she gets into the mood to recapture the tone of her youth that I also am in the mood. AND when she gets into that mood she doesn’t do it half ass she goes for broke…no matter how bad the shape we are in is. So, to keep peace in the war zone of exercise, I usually go along with her determination that I am so out of shape I need a personal trainer…that being her…to get back into the same shape I was when I was running 6 to 10 miles a night. That is back when she felt her daily exercise consisted of chasing two exuberant children around all day. Yeah you’re right, I had it too easy.

Back to the present and my self acclaimed state of disrepair.

Over time Angela has tried to get me interested in a myriad of exotic types of exercises which are supposed to get me back into shape quicker than you can figure out when and where she ran across these exercises with names I dare not even try to pronounce let alone put to paper. Her latest, and previously visited, is yoga. Now I have nothing against stretching and twisting my body into previously…and still… unattainable positions, but holding them for a given period of time and them moving ever so painfully to another is not what I call exercise. I have followed her into her desire to bike ride, both stationary and street, walking, usually at a speed I might as well be jogging, swimming, and well you get the picture. I wish she would decide to go scuba diving in Tahiti…that I could get into.

I have belabored the point. So on to her latest craze…Bikram Yoga. Like I said yoga in and of itself is nowhere near my idea of exercise…it is a preliminary event into the main event of joint pain and back spasms. Like I said before, not for me. But now she is taking it to the n’th degree.

Let me set the stage for you. Some one, who ever the leader is, prepares the room where the victims, err participants, are to enjoy this delightful means of self induce torture by cleaning the floor, least one gets an infection from smashing ones nose into the floor while doing the ‘downward’ dog. (I have never seen a dog in this position at anytime, thus I question where they got this name for this so called move of so called relaxation and enlightenment.) And long before the participants have even entered the room the leader raises the temperature to a level one might expect to encounter on the surface of the sun and blissfully await the victims…excuse me…willing participants to arrive. When everyone has arrived and is so informed of all legal information excluding the leader and owners of the building and heating equipment from all legal law suits which may arise from injuries incurred while performing the ‘downward dog’, or any other weirdly named position of self abuse, the ‘class’ begins its incantations and self torture.

Now bear in mind that I tried Yoga…at my wife’s urging, or should I say insistence, “You’ll love it.” NOT… so I was totally secure in my belief that doing yoga at the gates of hell was not going to be any where close to enjoyable. I there for decided to do something more relaxing for my ‘get back into shape and loose some of the excess poundage that has found it way to the vacation spot that in my waistline’ and go to my daughters in Sacramento during the middle of summer and enjoy the heat of the Sacramento valley, twist and contort my body into impossible positions, such as the ‘old stud removal’ or the ‘under the floor plumbing replacement’ and of course the popular ‘balance on the unstable ladder and replace the bad roof joist’ all in the heat of the attic. A much more enjoyable state of self torture…and something gets accomplished before I drag my body into the final ‘drive yourself to emergency room’ position.

My daughter now has a remodeled house in which to entertain and if she so desires do Yoga and achieve bliss and I lost 12 pounds and all desire to ever, ever do Bikram anything except, possibly another stint of ‘Bikram Construction.’b

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