Pet Peeve: Gym Yoga

As most of you know, I’m on vacation in sunny Florida with my mom right now. Of course I can’t leave yoga behind when I go on vacation, so I brought my mat and some clothes with me so I could practice on my own and, hopefully, find a class somewhere. IMHO, it’s always a good idea to take classes in your favorite mode of exercise in all sorts of places, because the climate, the naming conventions, and the level of difficulty can vary so widely that it’ll always be an interesting experience.

My mom told me she had a class that she’d love for me to take. It was too hard for her, she said, but she thought it would be great for me. I didn’t learn until I’d already agreed to this that the class was at her gym. I kind of went “oh, it’s a gym yoga class” when I found out, and she said “is that a problem?” and I tried, and ultimately failed, to explain that the mood of gym yoga is just a whole different thing than studio yoga.

Unplanned, unregulated exercise

If things go as (partially and vaguely) planned, sometime this weekend I’ll have a repeat of last weekend.  I’ll pull my bike down off of the hooks in the garage and ride the mile or so with Boy to the nearby park.

Maybe we can even repeat the trip of a year or so ago and ride the hell out of the park, lugging uphill and hauling butt downhill.  (Those hills are pretty damned steep, so ass can be hauled, even by a lardass like me, simply by virtue of gravity.)

It’s funny.  It’s so hard to motivate myself to get up off my butt when I’m at home on my nights and weekends to actually go out and do something like that – which is why I force myself to go to the gym, because if I can get into a routine and just get there, then I fall into the mindset of “I’m here, I better do what I came here for.  Time to get my money’s worth.”

When, really, what’s more of a drag?  A mile bike ride through a park, or a mile’s worth of pedaling a stationary bike in a sweat-reeking gym?  Even if you can’t count the calories burned or you know that you weren’t pedaling the whole time (because sometimes, on a real bike, you actually get to go downhill!  Woo!), it sure as hell feels a lot less like…work.

So why the hell don’t I do it more often?  You got me.  (Well, aside from the occasional butt soreness.  But I digress.)  Time to change that.

I leave you with one of my favorite workout songs of late.  Simple, catchy, pounding rhythm.  And fun, too!

(Actually, the one I’ve been working out to is the Sepultura cover, which I think kicks even more ass, but may not be palatable to everybody, heh.)