Here it is again, the last day of the year. Time for reflection on the past year.
This year, I bought a new home and sold my old one. In this economy, the fact that my old home sold in about two weeks is quite remarkable. I had done a fair amount of work on the house over the years, including a kitchen upgrade. I got a good price for it, just about what I had planned on. The first new house on which I made an offer was turned down. While it was a beautiful end-unit townhouse in Herndon, ultimately, I'm not sorry that I didn't get it because it might have actually been too big and maybe even a little too pricey. There were a couple of other townhouses that I would have been perfectly happy in and on which I didn't get a chance to even make offers. The housing market this spring and early summer was still lively in Northern Virginia. Interestingly, the townhouse that I ultimately bought is nearly the twin of one in Leesburg owned by an old classmate. I've always thought her house was lovely, and now I have one very similar. The only thing I would change if I could is that it's not an end-unit. But it's certainly a very comfortable home in a lovely Fairfax neighborhood, and the cats and I will be happy here for many years to come.
This year, I changed jobs again. Remarkably, I ended up with a new job within about a week of losing the old one. While the paperwork was completing and to cover all the bases, I did apply to and interview for several other positions. I talked to a career counselor type, as well. One of the things he remarked upon was that it looked like I was a job-hopper. I wish there was some way to indicate on a resume when changing jobs was not your choice, without making it seem as if you weren't good at the job. In my recent job history, I've only left a job a few times. Most of the time, either the company went belly up or the job was reorganized out of existence - neither of which is a reflection on my abilities. Still, without a consistent job history, finding the next opportunity gets tough. I'm still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. Considering that I'm almost 50, it might be too late, huh?
This year, I still didn't find love. For the first four months of the year, I tried the online dating thing. Again. I know several people who have found love that way, so I keep being optimistic that it will work for me. And since I work with primarily married men and do volunteer work primarily with women, I haven't met anyone just living my life. But no nibbles online. I don't know whether it's the gray hair, the fact that I don't photograph particularly well, or my online bio, but no man even wanted to meet me for a first date. I have to admit that is ego-crushing.
This year, I decided to make a concerted effort to write a book. I've been ostensibly writing a book, though not the same book, since I was 22. I have had outlines and ideas, but never have committed to a deadline to get it done. Inspired by a friend who rode his bike across the country for his 50th birthday, I decided to make completing a book by MY 50th birthday my goal. I have the idea, and I think it's a good one. I've been trying to make myself write more, particularly in the past month. Each story/chapter is at least started. The goal is not necessarily to get it published, just to complete it, to be able to say it was written.
This year, I was not as good as I have been in years past about doing volunteer work. I only had one brief foray as a foster for cats or kittens looking for a new home. I didn't do my usual spring kitten fostering because of my move. And somehow too many weekends ended up devoted to working rather than volunteering. I think I may have racked up about one time a month, but that's about as good as it gets. When I see the devotion of many of the others in the rescue, I feel guilty that I can't give more of my time. But I do what I can and can only hope that it's enough. I take comfort in the fact that the rescue placed more than 2,000 animals this year.
This year, I was honored to celebrate my parents' 60th wedding anniversary. What an amazing feat! And what an amazing setting in which to celebrate - a beautiful home on the point of a bay in Punta Gorda, Florida, with a 270 degree view of the water and facing west for amazing sunsets. It was an intimate party with only about 20 people, but it was full of love and that's really all you need (to paraphrase John Lennon).
This year, I was pleased to continue to be healthy. I started the year with a bit of a health scare. I'm not sure I've ever been so happy to be diagnosed as normal in my life. I am also grateful that my friends and family are healthy as well. I had a couple of other friends go through their own health scares, most of which are under control at this writing. My aged parents got through the year without any serious health situations. My siblings and their spouses are all healthy.
This year, I was happy more days than I was unhappy. I like my life. I have the love of my family and friends and a couple of cats. I am a respected member of an amazing team of people at work, the intelligence of whom I am constantly inspired by. I live in a comfortable home and earn enough money not to have to worry about how I'm going to get by. Even with health scares, losing my job, and not finding a man to share my life, it was overall a good year. And really you can't ask for much more than that.
Bring on 2011. I'm ready.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Sleeping In - Not Really
Today is a slow day, the end of a holiday week that was, for the most part, slower than most. Had a little drama on Tuesday and Wednesday trying to get a response out the door, but all in all, a much quieter week than I usually experience.
As today was going to be a slow day, I decided I would sleep in. Last night, as I prepared for bed, I turned off my alarm. I would let my body tell me when it was ready to get up. In my experience, that's usually around 9 am. As my first and only meeting of the day was at 11:30, I figured I could get away with not rising at my usual 6:30 am.
It was a good theory, but in reality - as they say - not so much.
As I think I've written before, I'm not really a sound sleeper. Quite the opposite in fact. I often describe my ability to sleep through noise this way - my cats walking in the room wakes me up. Any cat owner will tell you that cats can make an amazing amount of noise when they choose to, even if they do step lightly most of the time. But in general, when a cat walks around the house, it's not noticeable.
Maybe it's the equivalent of the mom-ears that I understand women develop to hear a crying child? Though you would think that I would only hear a cat in distress, not a cat merely roaming the halls at night. But no, I'm not that lucky.
What I really hear usually is their claws on the carpet. A sign that it's time for them to be trimmed. Still, most people would not notice that level of noise when asleep. Guess I'm just talented.
Last night, Mia decided to not just walk into my bedroom at 4 am, but to come racing in, claws fully engaged at keeping her balanced, and vocalizing to boot. At 4 am! She has been known to do this on a given morning when I haven't gotten up in time - whatever she perceives that time to be - to feed them. Most mornings, that's somewhere between 5:30 and 6. On work days, my alarm goes off at 5:30 and I lie in bed listening to the CD that's playing, dozing, and thinking about the day to come. Somehow, usually, Mia recognizes that process and generally doesn't vocalize too much in her attempt to get me up that much sooner.
So I was surprised that she decided this morning that it was time to get up at 4 am. Since I'm used to this behavior on weekend mornings and since my alarm wasn't set, I assumed it was time to get up, feed the fur children, and go back to bed for the rest of the morning. But no, it was only 4 am.
In frustration, I decided to close the door with the cats on the outside. That way, I thought foolishly, I would not be awoken between 5:30 and 6 and would be able to make up for the shorter night with a little more lazing about in the am.
Wrong! Somehow, and I still don't know how she did it, Mia was on the inside when I shut the door. So much for keeping the cats from disturbing me. About 4:30, she made her presence known by crying at the door to be let out. She's not one to be locked in, my Mia.
So at 4:30 I was up again, opening the door to let Mia out and to keep Brie from coming in. A quick open and close. Heart racing a bit, I crawled back in bed. Cozy again under the covers, ready to sleep in.
Then at some point - I didn't look at the clock - there was bump on the door. Thump! Someone was trying to get back into the bedroom. I don't really know which cat it was, but I'd put money on Mia. She's never met a door she didn't want to be on the other side of. Once again, my sleeping in was thwarted.
Then it was my own body that betrayed me! I woke up about 7, the time I usually get up to feed the cats on the weekend. You would think that since I'd really essentially been up since 4, my body would have slept past the 7 mark. But no. I figured that I might as well get up and feed the cats or at some point, the thumping on the door would become more regular as they decided that it was time to be fed.
7:15, back in bed again. This time, it wasn't the cats that disturbed my sleep. It was a dream. Somewhere between a dream and a nightmare really. Not a nightmare, but an unhappy dream. A dream from which I woke myself because I didn't really want to be having it. I rolled over and tried again.
Woke for the final time at 9 am. I could have turned over one more time since, as I said, I didn't really have anything to do until 11:30. But I was actually feeling refreshed. Huh?
So that was my morning of sleeping in. Awoken at least four or five times between 4 and 9. Sleeping in - not really.
As today was going to be a slow day, I decided I would sleep in. Last night, as I prepared for bed, I turned off my alarm. I would let my body tell me when it was ready to get up. In my experience, that's usually around 9 am. As my first and only meeting of the day was at 11:30, I figured I could get away with not rising at my usual 6:30 am.
It was a good theory, but in reality - as they say - not so much.
As I think I've written before, I'm not really a sound sleeper. Quite the opposite in fact. I often describe my ability to sleep through noise this way - my cats walking in the room wakes me up. Any cat owner will tell you that cats can make an amazing amount of noise when they choose to, even if they do step lightly most of the time. But in general, when a cat walks around the house, it's not noticeable.
Maybe it's the equivalent of the mom-ears that I understand women develop to hear a crying child? Though you would think that I would only hear a cat in distress, not a cat merely roaming the halls at night. But no, I'm not that lucky.
What I really hear usually is their claws on the carpet. A sign that it's time for them to be trimmed. Still, most people would not notice that level of noise when asleep. Guess I'm just talented.
Last night, Mia decided to not just walk into my bedroom at 4 am, but to come racing in, claws fully engaged at keeping her balanced, and vocalizing to boot. At 4 am! She has been known to do this on a given morning when I haven't gotten up in time - whatever she perceives that time to be - to feed them. Most mornings, that's somewhere between 5:30 and 6. On work days, my alarm goes off at 5:30 and I lie in bed listening to the CD that's playing, dozing, and thinking about the day to come. Somehow, usually, Mia recognizes that process and generally doesn't vocalize too much in her attempt to get me up that much sooner.
So I was surprised that she decided this morning that it was time to get up at 4 am. Since I'm used to this behavior on weekend mornings and since my alarm wasn't set, I assumed it was time to get up, feed the fur children, and go back to bed for the rest of the morning. But no, it was only 4 am.
In frustration, I decided to close the door with the cats on the outside. That way, I thought foolishly, I would not be awoken between 5:30 and 6 and would be able to make up for the shorter night with a little more lazing about in the am.
Wrong! Somehow, and I still don't know how she did it, Mia was on the inside when I shut the door. So much for keeping the cats from disturbing me. About 4:30, she made her presence known by crying at the door to be let out. She's not one to be locked in, my Mia.
So at 4:30 I was up again, opening the door to let Mia out and to keep Brie from coming in. A quick open and close. Heart racing a bit, I crawled back in bed. Cozy again under the covers, ready to sleep in.
Then at some point - I didn't look at the clock - there was bump on the door. Thump! Someone was trying to get back into the bedroom. I don't really know which cat it was, but I'd put money on Mia. She's never met a door she didn't want to be on the other side of. Once again, my sleeping in was thwarted.
Then it was my own body that betrayed me! I woke up about 7, the time I usually get up to feed the cats on the weekend. You would think that since I'd really essentially been up since 4, my body would have slept past the 7 mark. But no. I figured that I might as well get up and feed the cats or at some point, the thumping on the door would become more regular as they decided that it was time to be fed.
7:15, back in bed again. This time, it wasn't the cats that disturbed my sleep. It was a dream. Somewhere between a dream and a nightmare really. Not a nightmare, but an unhappy dream. A dream from which I woke myself because I didn't really want to be having it. I rolled over and tried again.
Woke for the final time at 9 am. I could have turned over one more time since, as I said, I didn't really have anything to do until 11:30. But I was actually feeling refreshed. Huh?
So that was my morning of sleeping in. Awoken at least four or five times between 4 and 9. Sleeping in - not really.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Too Much
Every day when I wake up, I automatically make a mental list of everything I need to do that day. Same thing happens at night before bed. I make a list of what needs to be done the next day. Lists rule my life.
The list generally includes both immediate goals - things to be done that day - and longer-term goals - things to do that week, month, or eventually. I am finding that the "eventually" list is getting unwieldy. Maybe it's a sign of getting older, but it's getting to be a long list full of very ambitious things.
For example, one of the items on this list was to start writing in my blog again. It has been a while since I wrote regularly. I'd like to get back to that. But it was always a challenge to find both time and topics. I will try again, and we will just see how it goes.
Another task is my book. I have actually started the writing of said book. There's an outline and most of the "chapters", i.e., stories have been started. But I made the mistake of doing the math on how much I need to write every week to get it done. Assuming about 500 pages in two years is 250 pages a year, right? That's 5 pages a week. Now that doesn't sound like much until you try to find the time to write every week. Realistically I'm not going to have time every week. The last week is a prime example of a week with no time and it was a holiday week. So really I need to write more than 5 pages a week. Daunting.
On top of that, my mentor and I think I should get my PMP. Which means either a course or studying. More time challenges either way. Not to mention money for the course if I do that. At this point, even the idea if the application is daunting. And if they audit again - oh boy! Yikes!
And then there are the constant items on the list: eating better and exercising more.
In the meantime, there's my busy job. Which I need to go do. Forgive the typos on this post. Done on cell phone and no time to edit.
Too much.
The list generally includes both immediate goals - things to be done that day - and longer-term goals - things to do that week, month, or eventually. I am finding that the "eventually" list is getting unwieldy. Maybe it's a sign of getting older, but it's getting to be a long list full of very ambitious things.
For example, one of the items on this list was to start writing in my blog again. It has been a while since I wrote regularly. I'd like to get back to that. But it was always a challenge to find both time and topics. I will try again, and we will just see how it goes.
Another task is my book. I have actually started the writing of said book. There's an outline and most of the "chapters", i.e., stories have been started. But I made the mistake of doing the math on how much I need to write every week to get it done. Assuming about 500 pages in two years is 250 pages a year, right? That's 5 pages a week. Now that doesn't sound like much until you try to find the time to write every week. Realistically I'm not going to have time every week. The last week is a prime example of a week with no time and it was a holiday week. So really I need to write more than 5 pages a week. Daunting.
On top of that, my mentor and I think I should get my PMP. Which means either a course or studying. More time challenges either way. Not to mention money for the course if I do that. At this point, even the idea if the application is daunting. And if they audit again - oh boy! Yikes!
And then there are the constant items on the list: eating better and exercising more.
In the meantime, there's my busy job. Which I need to go do. Forgive the typos on this post. Done on cell phone and no time to edit.
Too much.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Not A Word
Last month, I posted that I was going to write a book before I was 50. A couple of years from now. I even have what I think is a brilliant idea for a book. And one I should be able to accomplish reasonably easily.
Except that since then, I have not written a word. I have thought about writing. I have told several people that I'm writing the book - in an effort to sort of "blackmail" myself into writing. And yet - nothing.
The biggest problem, I think, is that I spend all day in front of computer. I come home, eat dinner, tend my "farm", and crash in front of the TV. Every other day, I try to get to the gym or go for a run, adding an hour or two to the time before I eat and farm. So it's hard to then get my creative juices flowing.
Except that at night, as I'm going to sleep, I write brilliant prose. I have a million ideas. I know exactly what I what to say. I will all flow easily and quickly.
Not.
Perhaps I need to go back to the old-fashioned pen and paper method. Perhaps I could convince myself that way to write, rather than read, each night before I go to sleep. Of course then I'd have to put the written word into typed word at some point. Which also seems like a waste of time. I always feel like I should just start with the typing.
One way or another, I still have this ambition. I just have to figure out HOW. And WHEN. I think I've got the WHAT determined. And I guess that's something.
Maybe.
Except that since then, I have not written a word. I have thought about writing. I have told several people that I'm writing the book - in an effort to sort of "blackmail" myself into writing. And yet - nothing.
The biggest problem, I think, is that I spend all day in front of computer. I come home, eat dinner, tend my "farm", and crash in front of the TV. Every other day, I try to get to the gym or go for a run, adding an hour or two to the time before I eat and farm. So it's hard to then get my creative juices flowing.
Except that at night, as I'm going to sleep, I write brilliant prose. I have a million ideas. I know exactly what I what to say. I will all flow easily and quickly.
Not.
Perhaps I need to go back to the old-fashioned pen and paper method. Perhaps I could convince myself that way to write, rather than read, each night before I go to sleep. Of course then I'd have to put the written word into typed word at some point. Which also seems like a waste of time. I always feel like I should just start with the typing.
One way or another, I still have this ambition. I just have to figure out HOW. And WHEN. I think I've got the WHAT determined. And I guess that's something.
Maybe.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
I Before E
When I was in my 20s, I took the Myers-Briggs test, like most of the rest of the world has at some point or another. I was assessed as an ENFJ, though barely an "E". While the meaning of the last three letters can be challenging to come up with, most people have no trouble with the "E" and "I". As an "E", I'm expected to be outgoing and gregarious.
Except yesterday reminded me how much I'm really an "I". I work in business development - an "E" occupation if there ever was one - and yesterday was my company's annual offsite with all the folks in that organization from the top of the chain on down. It's a chance for us to share ideas and meet each other. It started very early in the morning and lasted through a reception in the evening. All in all, a long day.
As I'm also in the middle of a proposal, I ended up popping out of several of the meetings for conference calls to keep my proposal moving forward. I was hardly the only one. Most people ended up on a Blackberry at some point during the day. It's very hard to keep a room full of "E"s off their phones. On one of those calls, the proposal team decided they needed another call in the evening to talk more details with our partners. I was annoyed because that meant I was going to miss the reception, which really was an opportunity to talk and network. The "E" in me wanted to have a chance to talk to folks outside of the offsite.
The main offsite schedule ended, and I dashed home to be ready for the call. I took off my suit and put on my sweats, fed the cats, and got on the phone. And all but collapsed. All of a sudden, I was completely exhausted. The "E" was done; now I was in full "I" mode.
I find that this is often the case. When I'm around a crowd, I can be very convivial. I enjoy the company of others. At something like yesterday's offsite, I don't feel enervated by being "on". I don't notice the drain until I'm done. But when it's over, when I don't need to be an "E" anymore, I find that I am completely and totally spent.
The same thing happened a couple of weeks ago with my open house. For those four hours, I was happy to have everyone around, talking with my family and friends, and truly pleased to be able to share. And the second everyone left, done. Kaput. I got the house cleaned up and collapsed in front of the TV. It was all I could do not to go to bed. At 7 pm!
They say that the real way to tell an "E" from an "I" is how they get energized. An "E" needs to be around other people to get energy. An "I" is exhausted by being around others all the time. Clearly Myers-Briggs was right. I am right there, in the middle. Enjoying my "E" and energized when I'm in the midst of the crowd. And fully an "I" when it's over. The only thing I think they got wrong is that ultimately, I'm more of an "I" before an "E".
Except yesterday reminded me how much I'm really an "I". I work in business development - an "E" occupation if there ever was one - and yesterday was my company's annual offsite with all the folks in that organization from the top of the chain on down. It's a chance for us to share ideas and meet each other. It started very early in the morning and lasted through a reception in the evening. All in all, a long day.
As I'm also in the middle of a proposal, I ended up popping out of several of the meetings for conference calls to keep my proposal moving forward. I was hardly the only one. Most people ended up on a Blackberry at some point during the day. It's very hard to keep a room full of "E"s off their phones. On one of those calls, the proposal team decided they needed another call in the evening to talk more details with our partners. I was annoyed because that meant I was going to miss the reception, which really was an opportunity to talk and network. The "E" in me wanted to have a chance to talk to folks outside of the offsite.
The main offsite schedule ended, and I dashed home to be ready for the call. I took off my suit and put on my sweats, fed the cats, and got on the phone. And all but collapsed. All of a sudden, I was completely exhausted. The "E" was done; now I was in full "I" mode.
I find that this is often the case. When I'm around a crowd, I can be very convivial. I enjoy the company of others. At something like yesterday's offsite, I don't feel enervated by being "on". I don't notice the drain until I'm done. But when it's over, when I don't need to be an "E" anymore, I find that I am completely and totally spent.
The same thing happened a couple of weeks ago with my open house. For those four hours, I was happy to have everyone around, talking with my family and friends, and truly pleased to be able to share. And the second everyone left, done. Kaput. I got the house cleaned up and collapsed in front of the TV. It was all I could do not to go to bed. At 7 pm!
They say that the real way to tell an "E" from an "I" is how they get energized. An "E" needs to be around other people to get energy. An "I" is exhausted by being around others all the time. Clearly Myers-Briggs was right. I am right there, in the middle. Enjoying my "E" and energized when I'm in the midst of the crowd. And fully an "I" when it's over. The only thing I think they got wrong is that ultimately, I'm more of an "I" before an "E".
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
It's Getting To Be That Time Of The Year
Last week, I got my first "holiday" catalog. I put holiday in quotes because it's just ridiculously early to be getting a catalog that refers to a holiday in December.
Today, I picked up my mail again. Two days' worth of mail - Monday and Tuesday. In the mail was nine catalogs. Nine! In two days. Now, I do buy quite a bit online - which equates to catalogs for each site. But just because I buy online doesn't mean that I want the catalogs. I don't even look at most of them. I put them right into the recycling bin. And feel guilty that I even got them in the first place. Though I have no idea how to stop them. A few sites offer the option of refusing the catalogs, but most only often the option to ask for the catalogs. Hmm...
The volume of catalogs will increase as the months pass and we get closer to Christmas. At some point, it becomes even more insane. As I have a relatively small mailbox, it will be a challenge for the mailman to get them all in.
The other challenge for the mailman is the number of solicitations. They too are increasing as the season for giving nears. Every year, I pick a handful of charities to which I donate at the end of the year. As a result, I am on many lists for charities and other organizations, much as I am on the lists of many retail stores.
In many ways, I resent the solicitations more than the catalogs. Like the catalogs, the solicitations go straight into the recycling bin. I don't open them. But unlike the catalogs, most of which are for stores at which I shop regularly, many of the solicitations come from charities to whom I haven't donated in years. And yet I still hear from them routinely, and even more in fall and early winter. Including at least one that said if I donated once, I'd never get another donation request. Yeah, right.
In general, I enjoy the holiday season. But the catalogs and solicitations don't add to the enjoyment. Three more months at least. Lovely.
Today, I picked up my mail again. Two days' worth of mail - Monday and Tuesday. In the mail was nine catalogs. Nine! In two days. Now, I do buy quite a bit online - which equates to catalogs for each site. But just because I buy online doesn't mean that I want the catalogs. I don't even look at most of them. I put them right into the recycling bin. And feel guilty that I even got them in the first place. Though I have no idea how to stop them. A few sites offer the option of refusing the catalogs, but most only often the option to ask for the catalogs. Hmm...
The volume of catalogs will increase as the months pass and we get closer to Christmas. At some point, it becomes even more insane. As I have a relatively small mailbox, it will be a challenge for the mailman to get them all in.
The other challenge for the mailman is the number of solicitations. They too are increasing as the season for giving nears. Every year, I pick a handful of charities to which I donate at the end of the year. As a result, I am on many lists for charities and other organizations, much as I am on the lists of many retail stores.
In many ways, I resent the solicitations more than the catalogs. Like the catalogs, the solicitations go straight into the recycling bin. I don't open them. But unlike the catalogs, most of which are for stores at which I shop regularly, many of the solicitations come from charities to whom I haven't donated in years. And yet I still hear from them routinely, and even more in fall and early winter. Including at least one that said if I donated once, I'd never get another donation request. Yeah, right.
In general, I enjoy the holiday season. But the catalogs and solicitations don't add to the enjoyment. Three more months at least. Lovely.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Cardio Vs. Non-Cardio
I came late to exercising. I pretty never exercised until I was almost 30. I did a little running, but not really enough to get in shape. As I was about to turn 30, I decided that I really needed to get in some kind of shape. I took up tae kwon do, and I quickly became addicted to it. I went from never working out to going to class 4-5 times a week. Within 3 years, I had my first degree black belt, and 4 years later, I got my second.
Along the way, I joined a gym. Part of the second degree black belt test was a physical fitness test. I was still heavier than I should have been, and I needed to develop endurance. So I worked out at the gym, I ran occasionally, I took class, and I taught class.
All of this was cardio.
A couple of years ago, a friend of mine started teaching a class at my gym that is a combination of pilates and yoga. I went a few times to support her, and I really liked it. It was similar to tae kwon do in requiring strength and balance, but didn't feel like it was beating up my joints as much. And yet, I couldn't get past the feeling that a non-cardio workout just wasn't going to keep me in shape.
Tonight I took a power yoga class. Straight yoga - no pilates. And a harder class than the hybrid one is because most of the people there have taken yoga for a while. And tomorrow or the next day, I am going to be sore. It feels like it was a really serios non-cardio workout.
Cardio vs. non-cardio? Why not both?
Along the way, I joined a gym. Part of the second degree black belt test was a physical fitness test. I was still heavier than I should have been, and I needed to develop endurance. So I worked out at the gym, I ran occasionally, I took class, and I taught class.
All of this was cardio.
A couple of years ago, a friend of mine started teaching a class at my gym that is a combination of pilates and yoga. I went a few times to support her, and I really liked it. It was similar to tae kwon do in requiring strength and balance, but didn't feel like it was beating up my joints as much. And yet, I couldn't get past the feeling that a non-cardio workout just wasn't going to keep me in shape.
Tonight I took a power yoga class. Straight yoga - no pilates. And a harder class than the hybrid one is because most of the people there have taken yoga for a while. And tomorrow or the next day, I am going to be sore. It feels like it was a really serios non-cardio workout.
Cardio vs. non-cardio? Why not both?
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