Attempting to relive the childhood

I am a wuss. A few months back signed up, and actually enjoyed practicing Hot Yoga. Within just a month, saw a noticible change in my body and loved that too. I had vowed to never, EVER give it up. I vowed it to myself, and declared it here in la blog. Yet after a bad sinus infection that lasted almost a month, the humid summer heat, and going away I am a Hot Yoga drop-out.

However that does not mean to say I have given up all forms of exercise. Oh no! Because at the age of 30, Orelinde thinks she is still a kid. And wants to partake in activities she did (not necessarily well) in her youth. Come the fall, I will return to tap dance class (I studied tap and jazz for 15 years). I have gone as far as to sign up at my old dance school, so I can even be in the recietal at the end of the year. I envision myself being the Cyd Charise of the adult tap class, shuffle-flap-shuffle-flaping my way in to my dance instructors heart and having the school owner beg me never to leave them again. (Like I said, envision. Who knows how much talent I have left here.)

But it gets better. Yesterday, after work I went roller blading. Because in a half hour of roller blading, I found you burn the same amount of calories as you do in 90 minutes of Hot Yoga. Now, roller blading I was NEVER skilled at. I had always feared falling and breaking a wrist or arm, or bashing my head against concreat and cracking my skull. Ok, maybe I over-dramatize, but I did have these fears. So I went out and bought the elbow, knee and wrist guards at Target (and ok, had to get kiddie size. But so what, I'm reliving my youth!). And away I went. I drove up to the junior high track, thinking no one would be around and the track (that I walk at times) would be nice and smooth.

Wrong-o!!! There were two women with a bevvy of small kids tramping all over the track, wandering aimlessly, not in one lane but several as their kids (ranging fromthe ages of oh..I'll go with 3 years old to 8 years) were riding their bikes. Strapping on my protective gear, and deciding to take the plunge I wobbled off on my blades. Now mind you, I have not been on the blades in 15 years, I did the math as I scooted around. And as I tried with all my might not to wipe out, and yet had to manuver around the track hogs...hear this one little brat say "Mommy...what is she doing?" And the mother replies "Roller blading. You have skates but those are roller blades." To which the snot answers, "Well she sure has a ton of stuff on," and with that he takes off and decides he is going to race me.

Now I am no where near a racing ability. I studied the ground as I tried to stay up right. Cringed every time I went over a crack. I did NOT need show-off to be in the lane next to me, on a bi-cycle showing he can go worp-five. His smug little face as he looked back over his shoulder at me. Me who had a determined grimace on my face because I vowed to go 4-times round the track, making it a mile.

But I could only do half a mile yesterday. Because I am not a roller blader. I haven't bladed in 15 years. I was proud to say I only fell once. And as I tugged my blades off my feet, rationalized that I have to build up to a mile. Because this is all new to me. Little tykes on bikes be damned...I will roller blade on that black strip of tar again!