Rage against the desk

This is me when I do African dance at my desk. 

In college I was constantly moving. Campus was completely walkable, I hopped from class to class, worked at the campus recreation center, exercised, and even took active classes like racquetball and African dance (which was supposed to be Jazz but was taught by a professional African dancer. I was not able to channel his gift, and instead looked like a gyrating guerrilla. Not quite the jazz hands I was hoping for). Point being, my routine was fueled by change, shifting environments, movement, interaction and stimulation.

Now that I am a big girl in the real world with a real job, I sit at the same desk all day long. While the work and client interaction are some days considered "stimulating," my body is not a friend to said desk. It's like I am a bird in a cage - a toddler confined by a play pen - a prisoner to my work space.

Yes, I can get up to use the bathroom (which happens to occur every ten minutes these days as I attempt to stay hydrated to ward off winter disease), but that is simply not the same. For instance - I just interrupted my writing to use the restroom and on my way I was bombarded by alarming news echoing from the hallway television (cruise ships still SINK these days?! Did we learn NOTHING from Kate and Leo?), greeted by the smell of cigarette smoke pumping out from my usual stall and upon my departure, stared down by a weird old man loitering outside the elevator bay. This is not exactly the type of interaction I crave. And we won't even mention the bowl of M&M's mocking me and practically jumping into my mouth before I can execute any self control. Certainly, not my fault.

Namaste coworkers and clients. Namaste.

So with that being said, I am going to enact a "rage against the desk" fitness plan. This schedule will include designated stretch time for downward dogs in the conference room (that sounds appropriate right?), more lunch break trips to the mall (solely to walk around and people watch... not at all to spend money on premature spring clothes in an effort to influence the weather through my masterful purchasing power) and climbing the stairs to the second floor to use an alternate bathroom (one that hopefully does not subject me to second-hand smoke).

I think these new initiatives should make me feel better - even if I have to go the mall every single day and answer to human resources for doing yoga in the work place, these are sacrifices I am willing to make. After all, my circulation and in turn, longevity is at stake.