You hear that racing thoroughbreds are high-strung; that they’re skittish and scare easily, and that you need to run them to keep them calm.
Or maybe you don’t – maybe you’re not interested in horse racing at all. I mean, who is? Not me. I’m not. Oh no. (Ahem!) I would never read up on thoroughbreds, no matter how gorgeous or powerful*.
But, if you’ll excuse the VERY flattering comparison – as if I could be like a racehorse (!?!) – I do find that exercise calms me too.
Earlier today, I was antsy. We’d tried to go to a store that turned out to be closed on Sunday, and then tried to go to an event that had been rescheduled. I’d had some disappointing news about a family member the other night, and I was sad about that too. As we drove home from our botched errands, I felt down, so I complained. Not only was the event a waste, but lots of other things were too.
M interrupted, very sweetly: “So, what time is your yoga class this afternoon?”
Me: “Oh-ho! Hm. I guess I should go to the 4pm – it’s been a while.”
And, like magic, after my hour of class, I felt great. Totally renewed. I looked atrocious, and I smelled, but I felt wonderful. When I got home, M even said: “What’s that smell? Is that you? It smells like old hockey bag.” and instead of being insulted, and I laughed and rubbed myself against his shirt.
Sometimes, all you need is to run around in a field, or to break a sweat.
*Horse racing is my guiltiest pleasure. I never go; I’m not one for gambling, and I’m soft besides: I worry about the welfare of the horses. But seeing them run? I love it. I love watching horses run very fast: they are so beautiful. I would love to have a ranch with retired racehorses where I could watch them run into my dotage. M is not yet sold.