It's winter.  Except...it isn't.  50 degrees and sunny today.  Again.  Same as last week, and the weeks before that.  In the middle of February.  In Connecticut.  

Flashback:  Winter, Connecticut, 2011.  Forecast:   Monday:  snow, 6-12 inches.  Tuesday:  snow 6-12 inches, Wednesday:  snow, 6-12 inches, Thursday: snow, 6-12 inches, Friday: snow, 6-12 inches, Saturday and Sunday: snow, 6-12 inches.  Tons of snow every day.  Every. Single. Day.  Mike fell off the roof three times while shoveling up there.   

Yes, last year was a nightmare.  It would take me half an hour just to get out of the parking lot at work.  Why, you ask?  Because once you got out of the parking lot, there was nowhere to go.  There was so much snow they had nowhere to put it all.  So it stayed on the streets.  They tried to plow it but ended up just pushing it to the side,  making all the streets in Hartford one lane roads.   One lane traffic.  At rush hour.  It became a game of chicken.  You would start down the road.  Another car would be coming up the road.  You would get closer.  And closer.  One of you has to back down.  One of you has to give. Well, let me just tell you something.  You may be coming at me with your souped up, bass booming, low-riding, rap blaring tricked out ride, but I am a hormonal, hungry, winter-hating, snow-despising 47- year-old  in the middle of a hot flash so get the  *$%*# out of my way.  

This winter is different.  Wonderfully different.

 And so it was today in this 50 degree weather that I set out for my run.    Sometimes, you take those first few steps and you know... you just know....   it's going to be a great run.  Today was one of those times.  I'm out there in the sunshine. I feel great.  My legs feel stronger.   I can feel the sweaty efforts of Bikram starting to pay off.  My lungs breathe in the clean, fresh air.  My arms pump rhythmically.  I go to my favorite running place, Stratton, of course.  I cruise through the entrance, around the parking lot and hit the bike path.  Running, running, running.  Feeling great.  Happy, happy, happy.  Running down the path.  Legs working great, arms working great, whole body in sync.  I'm loving this.  Haven't had a good run in a while.  This run is giving me a much needed running confidence boost.  

I'm coming to the end of the path, right before the turnaround.  In front of me I see a man walking a dog. The man is holding a child.  A little boy.   It looks like maybe the boy had gotten tired walking and the dad just scooped him up.  The dad was walking in the same direction I was running, so facing forward.  The boy was turned backwards.  So he was looking at me.  I saw the boy watching me as I approached.  His eyes were glued on me.  I got closer.  His blue eyes got wider.  I came up along side them.  "Hi!" I said as I passed, looking at the little boy.  What a cute little boy. "Hi" said the dad.  I was about ten feet in front of them when I heard it.  The dad's voice, in obvious answer to a question from the little boy:   "It was a woman running."

It was a woman running??   Wait a minute here. What??  Why?  Why did the Dad have to explain to his little boy that I was a woman running??    I mean, the boy was like three or four years old.  I'm sure he has seen a woman before.  And people running.  So what, exactly, was the problem?  Why didn't he recognize the fact that I was a woman who was running?  The little brat.

Hours later, the question nags at me still:  what, exactly, did he think I was?

Day 30.

We signed up for 30 days for 30 dollars.  I am on day 30.  My last day.  I have come to class routinely.  I have stayed in the room.  I have learned the 26 postures.  (I can correctly do one of them).  But here I am, once again giving it my all.  Dripping with sweat.  No, seriously, buckets.  I didn't know beads of sweat could form into such gushing rivers.   I am trying to breathe correctly.  Breathing correctly in yoga is huge.  It's one of the most important things.  I have discovered two things about breathing in yoga.  Number one:  I can't do it.   And number  two:  it is impossible to breathe correctly while silently screaming curses at your instructor in your head.  Ok, Breathe.  Breathe.  In and out.  In and out.  Ok.  Doing ok so far.

We are on Eagle pose.  This is one of the poses I have come close to mastering.  It involves pretty much twisting your whole body like a pretzel while standing.  Your arms twist, your legs twist, your hair twists, your face twists.  It is only because of my chicken legs that I am almost, just barely, able to achieve this pose.  (sidebar:  yes,  chicken legs.   Thank you, Laura.  True story:  Laura, Mike and I sitting watching the playoffs last weekend.  The subject somehow, inexplicably, turns to my legs.  The legs that Laura long ago deemed chicken legs.  I pull out my laptop and google image chicken legs.   Me:  I do not have chicken legs.  Laura:  sorry, Mom, yes, you do.  Mike:  Peach, go put on your running tights so we can see your chicken legs.  67% of the people in this room will get a kick out of it).  In Eagle pose I can easily twist my legs around each other.   I look around the room.  Everyone around me is struggling.  (I suppose I should mention here that the entire row behind me is brand new.  It's their very first class.  At this point they are splayed out on their mats, crying).  I twist my legs.  I twist my arms.  I sit down lower in the pose.  I arch my back further in the pose.  I breathe in.  I breathe out.  I hold the posture.  I am doing it.  I am doing it!!    Yes!!  Success!!  I did it.  I did Eagle Pose!!

 I am so happy.  I am grinning from ear to ear.  I look around me.  My neighbors are grinning, too.  They are so happy for me.  They realize just how much it took for me to do Eagle Pose.  They are grinning at me.  And pointing.  And laughing.  Wait.  Laughing?  Why are they laughing?  I look down.

My shorts are on inside out.

I lose my breathing as the cursing starts again.