Exercise Funk

Yoga or the gym? I thought with my eyes still shut as the bird chorus chirps outside my window.  I look over at my clock, it’s 8:20am, I can still make the 9:45am hot yoga class.  I roll over on my stomach and pull the covers tighter.  Looks like today, staying bed wins.  Since the breakup staying in bed has been winning over morning activity for quite sometime now.  Sure it bothers me, but laziness (or is it depression?) just feels right for me now.

My mind wills my body to get up. I just yawn, stretch and spread eagle my body on the now very large and very empty queen sized bed.

It was unlike the bed I slept in with my best friend while I was visiting Paris.  We shared a twin bed.  She had to get up early in the morning for work and I would awake before the alarm in anticipation of being able to roll over and stretch out a bit.   Since my friend worked during the day, I explored the city solo until we met up daily after work.  On one trip to the Musee de la Musique, I noticed there were many African vendors on the corner selling handbags spread out on thick cloths on the ground, much like the African vendors in New York City.  There were this season’s knockoffs of Valentino, Gucci, Guess and Louis Vuitton. The gold buckles and clasps glistened under the sunlight. It was affordable luxury in the middle on Paris.  I found the similarities striking, yet curious.  I approached a handsome vendor and he didn’t even let me finish my question in butchered French. “Don’t worry,” his smile was bright and wide, “I speak English.” I asked why they laid the bags on the ground instead of on tables.  He laughed and replied, “So if we see the coppers coming we can grab our stuff and go!” I chuckled and walked away and wondered which of the African brethren thought of that ingenious escape plan first, the New Yorkers or the French?

I know that I have to develop and escape plan out of my funk.  But what plan will work now?  All I want to do is lay in bed sleep away the blues.  When I used to live in Brooklyn, in the days before my relationship a typical morning would start at 7:30am and I’d make the 8:15am boot camp or spin class.  What happened to me?  I used to be so active.  I played badminton (not the sissy backyard kind my smash measured 128 mph).  I ran over the Brooklyn Bridge. I walked everywhere.   Since the ex and I moved to Florida, there has been no walking.  I drive everywhere because it’s too damn hot and places are far.  Now I say I want to learn tennis.  That seems to be the sport of choice here in Florida. But that is just where it stops.  I only have the desire.  I haven’t done a thing about it.

Exhaling, I turn on my back and look at the vaulted ceiling, miraculously an hour has gone by with me debating and wallowing in self- loathing.  Now I have to get up to pee.

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