I call my husband The Running Man because that's what he does (among other sports). He's a fit kinda guy. Sometimes a bit too fit for my liking actually. Like sometimes he will hover around me while I'm cooking to see how much oil I'm using or to check if I have added any butter to the meal (I have a Mediterranean background; my ancestors added a meal to the oil and butter!). His milk must be lite, his beer low-carb and his meat fat-free. To him, donuts are dangerous and smoking a sin. He follows his training programs with fervour and looks like a delirious lunatic when he gets back from a 5.30am run before work. And I am jealous.

What am I jealous of? Well, I am a professional procrastinator when it comes to practicing yoga at home. The mat may as well be in Europe some days, especially in winter. I go through a little dialogue in my head most nights that goes something like this: "Tomorrow morning I will wake up early and practice. While The Running Man and The Parrot are still asleep. It'll be a great start to the day!" And then I wake up and realise I need to have a shower to wake up and get warm. Then I make a pot of dandelion tea because it awakens me internally. Then I walk past the computer and remember I sent some emails to people overseas last night and may have replies. The Facebook tab opens…and before I know it, the family is up, the radio is on, the cat is knocking on the door and the newspaper is unwrapped and looking too inky and newsworthy to ignore.

So asanas get delayed and the dialogue changes to: "I'll practice tonight once The Parrot is tucked away in bed and The Running Man is doing his crunches or push-ups or whatever it is he does to try and burn off the calories from the creamy pasta sauce I fed him." Night falls, Parrot asleep, Running Man crunching. Must shower before practice (saucha is my forte!). On the way to the mat I hear something in the distance…is that what I think it is? Yes, it's the So You Think You Can Dance? theme song and because I don’t think I can, I lovelovelove to watch. Asanas can wait till tomorrow (see above for the night-before dialogue). My husband does not seem to encounter this problem with his training, not even in winter (I can't even use the cold as an excuse because he is doing laps in an outdoor pool at 7am).

How disciplined are you with your home practice and how long did it take until you made it a non-negotiable part of your day? Is it a gender issue? Is it easier for men to juggle their children and careers with fitness and spiritual pursuits? What do you think? Does my husband have more tapas than me or am I just plain lazy?

Labels: home practice, yoga