I've always thought 'Yoga-Bunnies' to be a somewhat sanctimonious lot. Unfair I know, but I swear, if I see one more 'Yummy Mummy' prancing around the high street in skin tight black tights, showing off her 'Yoga-Butt' to the world...I'll be ill.
Maybe that's why I took to running. As the husband (constantly) likes to point out....I am NOT a team player. Being in a room full of sweaty, groaning, posing, human elastic bands doesn't really do it for me, if you know what i mean.
Running, on the other hand, is a solitary, meditative, invigorating personal challenge - one I've been pursuing for half a year now. And this morning, as I ran, a brilliant idea took shape in my mind.
You know how boring it is to run the same route all the time? Sure, you can zone out and listen to your ipod, but essentially our minds and bodies like a change now and then. So I thought, what if there were 'Runner Obstacle Courses' the size of golf clubs, where the runner took off on a timed run and tried to make it through all sorts of challenges without getting maimed or killed?
There could be 'Alligator Alley' where you jog through knee deep water and hope not to tread on a beast...
Or 'Bird Bedlam' where you run through trees where there are nests and thousands of nasty black crows and dive bombing pigeons to avoid...
And 'Snake Sanctuary' could be the sandy bit where slithery scaled creatures lurk just out of sight an inch or two below the surface...
And no course would be complete without a 'Dogs Dinner' section where you have to pass a pack of wild, feral, beastly dogs who try and bite you as you run.
That's actually what gave me the idea this morning. I got bit (lightly thank god) by that one hated dog - the black/sandy/white mutt who has it in for me.
I watched as an elderly man ran ahead and wasn't bothered at all. Then two rather wide-hipped Scandinavian girls sauntered past, sarongs fluttering in the wind, but nary a growl from the nasty curs.
But as I went calmly jogging past, they all came snarling and surrounded me in seconds, the ringleader viciously trying and succeeding in biting me. Bloody dogs. I was furious.
Now I know why the Indian man I see walking the beach every morning carries a large wooden stick. I thought it was part of his meditative process, as he always looks deep in thought, and walks religiously for 45 min each morning barefoot in his yellow pajamas.
No. It's no bloody mediative process. The poor man is trying to protect himself.
So that's it. Tomorrow I'm going running with the biggest, sharpest stick I can find. I'll just get Dumps on the case. He has stashes of big poles and sticks all over the place.
Even now as I type this I can see the unfolding scenario tomorrow, which will involve a screaming, frothing-at-the-mouth monster (me) trying vainly to fend off a pack of wild beasts, but getting mauled in the process and having to go for needles in my stomach daily for the next two weeks.
And all this in the pursuit of a decent bum.
Maybe those Yoga-Bunnies are onto something after all...