Category: yoga

We Interrupt Myself & Moi

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Can I talk about books and running at the same time? I just have to. In the August batch of the Early Review program for LibraryThing I “won” a book called The Boy Who Runs by John Brant. I was pretty excited to read it because as you may have guessed from my other ramblings besides books I’m pretty excited about running. [Reading about running is probably the next best thing to running.] Notice I said I was pretty excited to read it. Past tense. Was. It would have been all well and good if I had actually received the book. Because I haven’t. Not yet. Bummer.

Fast forward to this week. Another message on LibraryThing. “Congratulations, you have won Yoga for Athletes by Ryanne Cunningham.” Another Early Review book! Under normal circumstances I would be beside myself with joy. Besides being excited about books and and being excited about running I am pretty excited about yoga for athletes. [I’ll give you an example: I won Yoga for Runners by Christine Felstead in 2014 and I STILL use it as a bible for routines both before and after runs. I not only read and reread her book, I went on to buy not one but two of her yoga videos. I became a huge fan all because of LibraryThing and the Early Review program.] But, getting back to my original rant. Notice I said would be beside myself with joy. Would be. I’m not beside myself with joy because in the past 12 months I haven’t received three books (four if you count Dorothea’s book that I can’t seem to get ER to acknowledge). Given that track record there is a chance Cunningham’s book won’t make it to me. Bummer. It’s not LT’s fault. I know once I’ve “won” a book it’s up to the publisher to get it to me.
The good news is Cunningham’s book is slated to be published this coming Tuesday. I’ll wait a month and borrow it from my local library.

 

Yoga for Runners

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Felstead, Christine. Yoga for Runners. Champaign, IL: Human Kinetics, 2014.

I loved this book so much I’m calling it my yoga bible. As a runner frequently plagued by injury, I was hopeful Felstead’s book would help me run with less pain. Notice I didn’t say “without pain.” This is not a miracle cure for those of us with hips and knees constantly out of alignment. But, having said all that, I took a long time to write the review for Yoga for Runners because I wanted to spend some time actually trying out the sequences more than once, especially the hour-long ones. Eager to get right to it, I had to rein myself in and actually read the chapters leading up to the sequences. Go figure. But, I’m glad I did. Each chapter builds upon the next, complete with photographs and testimonials. Each pose is broken down and thoroughly explained so that when you do (finally!) get to the sequences you have a better idea of what you are supposed to be doing (which is a good thing because holding the book open while trying to practice the entire sequence is nearly impossible. In fact, trying to read and move at the same time is the only drawback to Yoga for Runners. I ended up putting an 8-pound weight on the spine to keep the book open. I know, I know. Not good. I would have preferred a spiral bound book that lays flat when opened or, as someone else mentioned, a DVD to accompany the text.
But, back to the good stuff. The post-run sequence is easily my favorite go-to. It’s only 5-10 minutes long so there’s no excuse to skip it. My second favorite sequence is the maintenance routine. It’s over an hour long, but each pose is essential so your time is not wasted. The flow from pose to pose works well for all sequences. I know a runner who is a better yogi than runner. I would be curious to get her take on Yoga for Runners since she has been combining the two activities for years.

Reason read: this was sent to me as an Early Review selection, courtesy of LibraryThing.

Power of Privacy

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For the longest time I wanted to share my yoga practice with the blogging world. It was nice to mention moves that confounded me, brag about the small successes improvement brought me. But, somehow I have discovered I have more potential when I keep these things private. I think that is, in part, why I stopped going to group classes. The instructor’s voice calmed me, instilled confidence & control, and yet…I felt constricted, caught up. How to explain this? Certain poses create a cocoon of peace for me. Sometimes, I am so grateful for the respite that tears flow and sighs emerge. I find dare more, try more when alone. And I breathe. Often times I found myself not ready to move on from a particularly comforting pose when everyone else in the class was. Unlike other embarrassing moments in a group setting (falling over with a resounding solid thud, belching air out my azz or falling asleep during shivasana), this show of emotion, this lingering was not something I want to share. I didn’t want to hold up the class by holding a difficult pose for just that much longer (think Warrior III or half moon pose, two I have trouble with). I have more strength when I’m alone. There is power in privacy.
Oddly enough, this privacy issue has been carrying over to other parts of my life. I say I want to run with others but I won’t. I can’t. It’s too personal. It’s my time that I can’t  won’t share. I’ve run with only one other person – my sister – and she’s it. I won’t cook for anyone but family and the closer of friends. I won’t let anyone except my husband handle my Lamson & Goodnow.

So be it.

Forgive Me

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Days End

I have been hiding behind book reviews and poetry for days on end. Two poems for every one book. Reading like a fiend seems to suit me. Sorry.
I’ve started to tell you about the weirdest things ~ Kisa murdering the ladybugs in the bathroom, the end of N&ZY, my heartbreak over a breakup, the amazing work I’ve done with MSR, the crap I’ve been handed at AIC, how homesick I am, how little I’ve run, the need to hear my music again (go where we haven’t I don’t dare), Natalie, Germany, Sin City, Taka Tak, being stood up, being letdown, sex in my city, Comic Book Tattoo, Darfur, Boston Celtics, wine, angry black man, gun to my heart, arthritis and friends too far away.

I’ve started to tell you about all these things. Yet, I can’t. Instead I tell you about what I’ve read and read and read.
Forgive me.

Solo Strength

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Last night, when all the friend saving was said and done, I took a desperately long bath. Car accidents and drunkenness aside. The water is where I calm myself. I like to sink beneath the surface and listen to the world from underneath. Everything always sounds echoed and hollowed. Warped and wavy. The dripping spout sounds like a tuning fork. The African cd sounds more like muffled birds than joyous voices. I like the warmth of the water, cradling me. Steam rising from the surface. Last night I stayed silent and unmoving letting the water become as calm as can be. I wanted to become just as still, just as calm. With only my nose above water I willed myself to be slow and easy. A ladybug crawled over the spout and paused to investigate the drip before making its way along the rim of the tub. Every time it stopped I thought about its journey and wondered if it would join me in the water. A solo ladybug going somewhere. When it finally disappeared from view I thought about Aaron, about alcohol, about aborted engagements and mourned one and all. Not my lives, nothing to do with me, but I will miss them just the same.
While my muscles were still warm from the bath I practiced sun salutations for half an hour. There is something about moving from pose to pose as slowly and silently as possible that makes me feel whole. Strong. Centered. Solitude is my saving grace. My breath was just as quiet as in the bath. If I thought I could communicate with you through mental telepathy I would have said I’m finished with the anger. Silently I would have said I’m done being raving mad. Because while I didn’t want to talk to you at such a late hour I wanted you to know I’m fine. But, thanks for being there.

Here’s the thing. I’m finding I’m learning to let go of anger and hurt more easily. I have found my solo strength.
 

Lining It Up

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Now&ZenYoga

(Now & Zen Yoga: photo by Chris Szarek)

Back when I was training for the LLS Alton Bay half I was striving for The Trinity: a good running plan, a good eating plan and a good yoga plan. I’m one of those nutty people that earnestly believes that all these things go together. Especially yoga and running – I’m convinced they go hand in hand. Think about it. Let’s take the run first. Some people say a good run is mind-clearing. Others say it’s a good chance to relax. Okay – so the “relax” factor might be stretching it in terms of physical, but think about it from the mental for just a sec. I don’t know about you, but when I run, there is a cadence to my breathing – one deep count in, two long counts out. Slow & steady with the mantra “must beat cancer” right behind it. There is a rhythm to my running that parallels my practice in yoga.

Now let’s move onto a good yoga session and how it relates to a good run. Tight hamstrings, tight hips, tight anything is bad, bad, bad for running so… what better way to stretch it all out than with a session of yoga? Go on any running site (take Runner’s World, for example). I bet there is an article or two (at the very least) about good stretching. The Y word might even be thrown around a little. I know for a fact Runner’s World has a video of three yoga moves designed to free the hips, loosen the quads and stretch the calves.

My point of all this preaching is not to get runners to become yogis or vise versa. My point is all about me, myself and moi, actually. I wanted to outwardly vent about lining it up – the yoga, the running & the eating well. Only now I’ve added a fourth component so I’ll have to rename the Trinity as the Fantastic Four: running, yoga, eating well and…Hello Mr. Bowflex – strength training!

Accidental Connoisseur

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Accidental ConnoisseurOsborne, Lawrence. The Accidental Connoisseur: An Irreverent Journey Through the Wine World. New York: Fair Point Press, 2004.

Even though I don’t know much about wine and I probably wouldn’t have picked up this book if it weren’t for the challenge, I had to admit this: ILMAO. Lawrence Osborne has a great deal of fun with the punny, the witty, and the downright funny. Right off the bat, on page four, he had me giggling with “all drinks came under the Arabic word alcohol, essentially reducing them to a level of chemical sin, and none of them could be bought on Sunday.” Especially since we had downed a wine called Evil on vacation, thanks to Stacey. See below for the proof.

Even if you aren’t a wine drinker or even a wine liker, Osborne’s writing will amuse you. He has phrases that are somewhat identifiable as my own, “when the happiness of drinking overwhelms you, you cannot resist it” (p 21) and “Wine is 99% psychological, a creation of where you are and with whom” (p 22). This makes me sound wildly alcoholic, but bear with me a second. Think of any great seduction scene. Who is usually front and center (along with soft music and sexy candlelight)? Partners in  crime – a wine bottle and two wine glasses. I found that a glass of wine is definitely more pleasurable when enjoyed in the presence of good friends and equally good scenery.
Seriously, I learned a lot from this short book. For example, how you space the vines in each row determines the complexity of a wine (according to one grower). The theory is plants with less crowding don’t have to compete for sunlight and growth space. They are more relaxed and get this, less stressed out. You see, the more stressed out a plant is, the more psychotic it is. It’s this aggrivated state that develops the complexity of flavor. Got it? I learned a new wine word, too: terroir. Makes me think of ‘terror’ but whatever.

Other favorite parts: “”what do you taste?” “Grapes,” I said. “Good. That’s what’s in it!”” (p 97)

“If wine is sex, ” I said, “this is like yoga.”
“Yoga? You’re saying it’s like yoga?”… I’m not sure I get you there. You mean athletic?”
“Virtuous. Unsexy.”
“Ah, you mean American!” (p 101)

But, probably my favorite line is an obvious one, “Wine summons ghosts out of the cupboard” (p 228).

BookLust Twist: From More Book Lust in the chapter “A Holiday Shopping List” (p 115). It’s true that I would buy this for the wine lover that I know, only I don’t think he drinks and reads. Is that a problem?
wine.jpg

Black Blame Game

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This. This picture is what I thought about when trying to meditate at Now & Zen Yoga studio last night. It looks like a whole lot nothing, a clear mind…but look carefully. Something is there. Something lurks. Just like in my head, something was on the fringe of calm; just on the edge of quiet. Blame. Ruth called it Wanting vs. Not Wanting. Like a psychobabble tennis match, I bounced between the two. I want to be as confident HERE as when I am THERE. I do not want to worry about this zit mutating on my chin. Why can’t I not worry about it HERE like I didn’t worry about it THERE? As this volleying went on I felt panic set in. I was slipping away from the calm and quiet I had so proudly achieved just moments before. Where was that peaceful easy feeling? Why was I thinking about how awful I am all of a sudden? The blame game was in full swing. Was I completely losing it? Was I stepping off the train and utterly missing the boat?
Fortunately, I was able to grab the bouncing ball and stop the guilt game for the rest of the session. But. but, but here it is again. In my court. Thanks to Ms. Klein. We write parallel blogs. Maybe not on the same days, but sooner or later we talk about similar things. Since I have missed a week of her writings I’m a few blogs behind. Today I read about fault. It took me by surprise because that was the very game that I was playing last night in the middle of a meditation class. Try as she might, Ms. Klein was not able to convince herself it was someone else’s fault. It always came back to her and the question of what she did wrong. Just like how I keep coming back to my split personality problem. I’m like a boater who doesn’t know how to skull, so I keep going around in circles with my one oar. Someone can tell me it’s a question of confidence. I’ve figured that one out on my own. Someone can tell me it’s an issue with comfort. I got that, too. I have all the answers. What I still don’t know is WHY.
Maybe some things aren’t meant to be figured out. Maybe being in the dark with only a hint of the answers is how it has to be. Maybe, in this one case, I need to let the mystery be. Oddly enough, this comforts me. It also brings out the creative thoughts in me. Who says I can’t be there permanently some day?

Joke of the Day…Is On Me

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Joke: What do you get when you combine an island off the coast of Maine and bunch of knitting yogis?

Punchline

They want $1,900 per person for this retreat. What if you have your own place to stay courtesy of Chez Mum and you don’t care for the touristy critter dinner? (I’m already getting one of those, complete with bib, in less than a week.) I’m curious to see what they’ll say. I’m also curious to see if it would be worth my while to run away from work during one of the busiest months, to knit and practice yoga in my hometown when I have knowledgeable, fun, beautiful people here who could do the same thing for, I’m guessing, way less.

The joke is on me because I want to do it, just to blend in with the crowd. I want the headline to read, “Local girl gone loco”; to see the community’s bemused faces when they realize I’m not home for the hell of it. They don’t know me as someone who knits, runs, practices yoga, goes on retreats…

Caught

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Caught on an electric wire I wait on the wind. I am once again alive and happy to be here. I was slipping my grip on priority a few weeks ago but I’m back. A renewed force of power waits while I settle into a new groove. And settle, I will. Just you wait.
There is a new resolve to run my life the way I want, a new resolve to be who I want to be. I am not stupid, I’ve been face to face with this resolve before. My life is a giant circle – losing confidence, gaining ground. Faltering and finishing. Falling down and getting back up. This isn’t the first time I’ve found courage, found strength, found something to be. I’ll take advantage of it while it’s here.
Knitting II was cancelled but that just gives me time to enroll in knitting school – yes school. Courses, textbooks, prerequisites, labs, tests, homework, final exams. The works. I finished knitting I with a green scarf but now I’m ready to jump into the unknown. As a good friend told me, it’s all well and good to reaffirm what I already know (as in the case of knitting I), but it’s another to move into unchartered waters. So, here I go.
Yoga. I haven’t been to Now and Zen Yoga since it moved. I’m embarrassed by that fact. Now that I have this director thing worked out I have time for the more important things.
Kisa taught me some moves on the bowflex. I’ve missed strength training. Okay, I avoided it after a certain meathead left my life, but, but, but I still missed it. I like watching my muscles move, feeling strong and in charge. Peach Shirt still lingers in my memory. He follows me from the grocery store and back from the back. I’d like to be able to kick his azz if it ever came to that. Instead I’ll ignore the ache. In addition I discovered the bike path goes all the way into town – almost 3 miles. Perfect for running. I’ll start tomorrow.

I moved back into the Space, calling up some friends. If I haven’t called on you, give me time. I’m still figuring out where you are! 😉

Difference between Pranayama and Gasping

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PranayamaI got a chance to experience different breathing techniques over the weekend. Some by choice, some by force. The first was an IntroEducation to Pranayama. This was the by-choice inhale/exhale portion of the weekend. Sponsored and led by Ruth of Now & Zen Yoga I was introduced to the four different breathing techniques of Pranayama. The thing that stuck in my head (after it hit my heart) was the thought process behind Pranayama. I will paraphrase what was said to me – breathing is life and Pranayama is the control of this life force. Your first action after birth is a deep inhale. Your last action of life is a slow exhale. Life breathing from beginning to end. Ruth said it much more gracefully but you get the point. I learned that breath can be controlled after years of taking it for granted. Different from the box breathing (something I learned about in a different class), we were introduced to four different techniques of inhale/exhale but Ujjayi had to be my favorite – noisy and satisfying, it made me come alive.
Later, I felt like I was dying. By choice. Sunday beautiful sunny afternoon I decided to take Miss You for a run. I’m not used to running in sunshine, running in shorts. By mere mile one I was gasping for air. I had forgotten to pace myself, forgotten to find the steady breath. Funny thing about breathing – you don’t think about it until you are short of it. I remembered the imaginary eggs I should be cradling in my palms. I remembered the angels on my shoulders to keep my back straight. I remembered the pacing of footfalls…but not the pacing of breath. 1.8 miles later I ran across kisa (almost literally) and I called it quits. I wanted my inhale and exhale to quiet to talking and walking. The run was not what I wanted it to be, but the company was. I’ll do it again tomorrow.

Mine All Mine

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I need to claim April as my month. The once cruelest month needs to be my saving grace. I am mourning the loss of so many things. Physical, mental, spiritual, individual. All gone for better or worse.

Yet, I have so many things to look forward to in April. My family, for one. I haven’t hosted their laughter in so long, and in some cases, never. We’ve had the carpets professionally cleaned, the couches dumped and the vents sucked out. We’ve only just begun. I’ve cleaned out of necessity. I want to cook out of love.
4/4 is my chance to speak my mind. A chance to be heard. Will it stand up to the powers that be? Will it matter in the grand scheme of things? The answer will dictate Should I Stay. The answer will determine the direction of my sails.
4/27 seems so far away. Lights, camera, action seemed like a dream but with every passing day reality is creeping in. I firmly believe in helping out those I truly love and this is no exception. Kisa is the driving force behind this venture and I couldn’t be more blessed.
April also brings a reunion of sorts. I almost want to hold my breath for fear of it not happening. We have promised togetherness for years but every assurance sounds more hollow than the last. I want to see him yet I’m afraid of what won’t be.
Now and Zen Yoga has moved to the new location and I’m anxious to start over in the world of yoga. With a couch propped in the back room I haven’t had room to move the way I want to. April is the month to get back into the studio.
Knitting classes also start in April. Will I be a dolt with sharp objects? I think if I handled a chef’s knife okay I can handle a knitting needle. Make that two.

April is my month.

Flowing Grace

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I took a class last night at Now & Zen Yoga that was this side of unique. Live music. Different instructor. New moves. Lots more bodies. At first I was nervous. All around me people were bending and holding poses I could only imagine achieving. Poses I hope to achieve someday. I think it was that hope that helped me relax. There was time to have a conversation with me, myself and moi and we discovered a tight hamstring and a small tension in between the shoulder blades. We spent the rest of time before class working out the kinks and the insecurity.
When class finally started I forgot all about the hamstring. I barely noticed the back. Everything flowed in the fun. Some poses were brand new for me but I bravely tried every single one, even the binding ones I didn’t think I was ready for. I forgot about the neighbors, but never the music. It stayed with me, flowed through me. Pulses of beat, pulses of courage.
At the end of class the instructor asked us to think about our practice, to think about the goals we set for ourselves. I thought about how back in the beginning of January all I wanted was a daily practice. In that daily practice I had hoped to find three little things – relief, confidence and peace. Relief for my knee, confidence in my movements, and peace in everything else. Okay, so the peace thing isn’t exactly a “little” thing. I was asking a lot with the peace part. I wanted calm. I wanted patience. I needed Grace. Basic. Relaxation. In class I realized I had moved beyond wanting relief, confidence and peace. I could now add comfort to the mix. I am ready to embrace something for the soul. Stretch beyond the physical to the spiritual.

Inside Breath~ Day 25

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child's poseI couldn’t find my shirt and didn’t want to practice topless. I didn’t think Now & Zen would appreciate it. So. So, I skipped class for the 3rd week in a row. I needed this class. I really, really needed this class. My solution was to try a little restorative yoga at home. My favorite instructor was right – what I was avoiding was exactly what I needed. It’s cold in my yoga “studio” so I wore a sweatshirt; a blessing in disguise. As I hung over in a standing forward bend the hood fell over my head and stayed. From then on, every pose was shrouded in private purple. It was bliss to stay in each pose for at least fuller minutes. There was darkness and warmth in my hood. I needed this. Child’s pose -> extended child’s pose -> star pose -> seated straddle forward bend -> seated forward bend (probably the most relaxing of all poses. I let my stomach and chest rest full weight on my legs and almost fell asleep) -> supine twist -> child’s pose to end.

Balance Better Than Juggle

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I have been in the practice of balance lately. I could say I’m juggling work, yoga, running, and home life, but the word ‘juggle’ implies trouble. I prefer balance.

  • Work has me frustrated because while the winds of change blow I’m the only one buckling down to face the inclement weather. Everyone else is bellyaching about bad reviews. Blahblahblah.
  • Yoga has been all about balance, figuratively & literally. My knee is bothering me so I’m shaky on some of the standing balancing poses. I’m trying to reach with my eyes closed. I want to feel my center rather than force it into being. The other balancing act is making sure yoga is In The Day, everyday. I have been practicing for 24 days straight and some days it’s harder than others to fit it in. Harder than I would like. Truthfully, two of my sessions this week have been 5 minutes at a time. It feels like cheating. I’m looking forward to Thursday because hopefully an hour session will balance out the shorter ones.
  • Running. Last night we went back to the Gerbil Cage. For some reason I wasn’t in the mood to push for speed. Maybe it was the knee. It could be the knee. I’m sure it’s the knee because it’s a new knee pain. At any rate, I tried for balance. After the warm up I ran an 11 minute mile & I tried closing my eyes every so often. It sounds corny to say it now, but I wanted to be one with the treadmill. I wanted to bind myself to the plastic, rubber and metal. To really own it. I once saw trainers run backwards on a treadmill and I want that kind of ownership. I want that comfort level. Closing my eyes helped me feel what I was running on rather than where I was not going. Bottom line: 2.9 in 35 minutes.
  • Home Life. I think BubbleGum has a song about HomeLife. In a live version he says, “hold up – hold up. I’m about to tell the truth here…” and it sets me smiling. My truth. I have been a cooking fiend lately and I’ve had consultation work – two weeks worth- out of the blue. I’m loving every minute of the home life; it’s got me busy, but something’s missing. My friends. I want to sit with RG and just talk, maybe try that pigeon pose while we’re at it. I want to compare burnt tongues with A. I want to giggle over ‘Sex & the City’ with SB. I want to compare running stories with RC. I want SB2 to sniff my wrist and tell me the scent is too sweet for someone as bitter as I can be. I want to come face to face with P and know that she is as sweet in person as she is in print. I want to hang out with M and watch G entertain with talent. I want RC2 to tell me again how innocent she is not. I haven’t been to the movies. I’m tied up in books. I want a haircut. I don’t need a raincoat. I need balance.