Inspirations by Emily J. Weitz

Car Yoga

Sometimes life is just so fabulous, you have to throw your arms up in the air, jump up and down, and shout "Whoo hoo" from the depths of your stomach. Sometimes the music just keeps playing, so you just keep dancing. Sometimes you feel yourself sparkling as the cameras flash, and you think, "I am really on top of the world". These times are meant to be savored, particularly because they are all too often followed by a morning in which your feet throb, your headaches, and your voice croaks out of your throat like a frog seeking a fresher lily pad.

My life took such a journey last weekend, when two of my best friends got married to each other. It was absolutely amazing to see them kiss at the altar, take the first dance, and drive off in a car donned with freshly chugged beer cans (who better to chug them than their dearest friends?).

It was a wedding weekend extravaganza, and we did not hold back. We partied into the wee small hours after the intimate rehearsal dinner, and then the night before the wedding brought all sorts of old friends together around a raucous campfire. The wedding night lasted straight into the morning after. We were partying like rock stars, like college kids, like ourselves (six years ago).

We kissed other friends goodbye, but a select few lingered until the last possible moment. By the time I was packing up my car with the stained remains of my bridesmaid's dress and the crumpled figures of two of my friends, I was a mere shadow of the "classy lady" - as one guest called me - that I had been the night before. No, at this point, in sweats and diamonds, I was the wedding hangover incarnated.

I was driving halfway back to the Hamptons with my two friends, and then I had to leave them in the city to make the rest of the journey alone. By the time we left the site of the wedding, it was almost dusk, and I knew it would be a long ride. Luckily, my friend Guiche volunteered to drive the first leg of the trip. This was a major feat, seeing as how ol' reliable Colman was drooling on my backseat and not poised enough to make any sort of heroic move. However, I am convinced that those two hours that Guiche sat behind the wheel saved my life. I thought about the best possible way to use this time to restore my energy and ensure a safe journey back to the East End. And, tempting as it was, I knew a nap with my neck all crooked and my legs all cramped would not be all that restful. So instead, I went for a more invigorating choice - car yoga.

The first thing I did was I stuck my legs straight up in the air and placed my feet on the roof of the car. I pressed into the roof with the bottoms of my feet and let the energy coarse through the backs of my legs. It was much like a sitting forward bend, only it was almost better in some ways. It helped keep my feet flexed and the energy moving outward through the bottoms of my feet.

Then, I turned around in shotgun (this while we're doing 80 on the LIE, of course). I was on my knees in the front seat and began to lean back, opening up the fronts of my thighs in a modified camel pose. My chest opened and my arms went up through the sunroof. I felt my heart opening, and my hunched-over shoulders began to awaken, the shoulder blades rolling down my back.

I came back to sit and rolled my knees over to the left side while I twisted my body to the right, allowing the toxins to squeeze out of my organs. Then I twisted the other way, wringing out all the alcohol and caffeine that I had frenetically ingested in the past 72 hours. I pulled my knees into my chest and rested my forehead in between them in a modified child's pose. I let my lungs fill with air and then empty, allowing the darkness to calm my mind.

By the time we reached the city, Colman was stretching his limbs and I heard a few pops as he did. Guiche was yawning, exhausted from the ride. I turned my Tupac CD up louder and hugged the boys goodbye. I was rejuvenated from my short session of car yoga, and now was ready to continue the journey eastbound.

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