Wednesday, January 26, 2011

On the Mat

My intention when starting this blog was to not only write about being a mom, a wife, and a homemaker, but also about being a yogini, a teacher, and a student. Often for me, these aspects of myself are tied together, forming a colorful blur of who I am. Sometimes, though, I think it's relevant to address them separately (or at least kind of separately). I plan to post On the Mat with some frequency, the first few posts will share with you some of the early parts of my journey to where I am now. Sometimes the posts will be just about yoga, sometimes they will be about it all. I hope that you will share your thoughts with me.

When I started my yoga practice 12 years ago, I practiced sporadically to videos made by well-known aerobics instructors who were trying to cash in on the newest fitness trend. I practiced in the living room of my shared apartment or my parents' home, on carpet, on a crappy mat, without the appropriate knowledge or tools to have a clue what I was doing. The first class I attended was taught in the wrestling gym on my college campus, by someone who (I'm guessing) took a weekend workshop on "how to instruct an hour of yoga." I went a few times, but really, the classes sucked. Despite the fact that these early practices were a little rough, over the next few years I kept making my way back to the mat. Sure, I tried pilates (also from a video) but it did nothing for me. For several years I worked out in the traditional Western sense - beating myself up at the gym, lifting heavy weights and spending hours on the treadmill, bike, or elliptical. For two years or so, I even became what most would consider a gym rat. Literally, I went to the gym 6 days a week for at least 2-3 hours each day, spending an hour or more doing cardio, another hour lifting weights, and a half an hour stretching. I went to spinning 4 times a week. I ate whatever was convenient and easy, which generally meant Starbucks, pizza, bar food, and ice-cream. My reward after an exam was done or a paper was completed was a whole pizza and a pint (a PINT) of Graeters (best ice-cream EVER...Jeni's didn't exist then) drizzled with Bailey's. Seriously. The things I ate that were healthy, I ate in mass quantities. I felt like crap (I know I know, I was eating crap, but I was still only a size 8 and the heavy workouts weren't doing my body any favors), and though I was definitely strong I was puffy, stiff, swollen and constantly taking NSAIDs for joint pain. I'd never weighed that much in my life, and I felt it. Every so often, though, I would come back to those yoga videos. I'd practice a few days a week to these videos, then decide I needed to burn more calories and set myself off to become a runner or something (I really really wanted to be a runner. I wanted a runner's body, a runner's gait...I wanted a runner's long, lean legs and strong spine...but, no matter how much I ran, I never became a runner. I hate running. Seriously. I can't believe I was on the track team for two years in middle school. My failed attempts at becoming a runner have made me amazed by anyone who runs for more than 20 or 30 minutes at a time and says they like it. Seriously. If you're a runner, I'm amazed by you.)

When I moved home after college and got a "real" job, I was still going to the gym. I was even working out with a trainer. I still felt like crap. My body just ached all the time. And I was still heavy, even though I had lost some weight from drinking less and eating better. I decided to give yoga another shot, a "real" go if you will, and I did some research about yoga studios near where I lived. During my search, I stumbled upon a newer studio where the teachers taught Power Yoga, based on the teachings of Baron Baptiste. I read the teacher bios, thought they sounded like real people, and decided to go one evening after work. I got my cheap mat and my Victoria's Secret yoga pants (yes, even 8 years ago Victoria's Secret was selling yoga pants) and I excitedly made my way to the studio. The Karma Yogi* was super nice....she told me I would love the class, so I should just buy a package of classes, but if I wanted to try it out first and see if it was for me, I could pay after class. This way if I hated it, all I would lose was the drop in fee. So, I made my way into the room and set up my mat, all-in-all feeling pretty good.

That class was probably one of the hardest classes I've ever been to. Not because the poses were super advanced, and not because the sequence was tough, but because I had to deal with me. You can't hide from yourself when you're on your mat.** All the time I spent in the gym working out and that class?? It kicked my ass. I was breathing heavy and sweating like I'd never sweat before***, and I was sure I was going to vomit, or maybe even die (I can be a little dramatic, er, I mean passionate). I even spent the last 15 minutes of that 75 minute class crying. I don't know why, exactly, but it brought up some strong emotions in me that had to get out. Regardless of this experience, I remember floating out of that room after savasana.**** I was definitely buying a class package.

My memory of specifics is a little fuzzy (after all, yoga teaches us to be in the present - not dwelling in the past) but I remember deciding that taking 2 classes a week would be a great compliment to my gym regiment. The thing is, though, I noticed immediately after that first class a huge difference in how I felt after a yoga practice (free, light, and full of life) versus how I felt after a workout at the gym (heavy, exhausted, cranky, hungry, sore). After only a short time (weeks, maybe a month or two), I gave up my time in the gym for more yoga. I was practicing 4 classes each week. I noticed the physical benefits almost instantly, but I was starting to notice a difference in myself off the mat, too. While I wasn't able to specifically define it at the time, I knew I had found something special and I wanted more...(tbc)

*Karma Yogis, or Desk Yogis as they're sometimes called at larger studios, are the people (often volunteers) who help sign people into classes and make purchases of classes or boutique items.
**Just like anything else in life, there are ebbs and flows. As a yogi moves deeper into their practice, they can find ways to hide temporarily. I will delve more into this in a later post.
***Power Vinyasa classes are moderately heated, but even without heat you still work up a healthy sweat.

****Savasana, or Corpse Pose, is a finishing pose for a yoga practice. It is a resting pose.

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

I Think My Heart Just Broke A Little

Every now and then I think we all need a reminder that life is too short to spend it dwelling on things that really, in the end, aren't so important. Your life will not be better "when..." spend your life living, want what you have, and LOVE whenever you can.

I have a dear friend whom I've known since college. Twice we were roommates in Israel. I was friends with her husband and kinda sorta helped introduce them. I was at her wedding. I love this lady. She's also a rabbi, and a mom to 3 gorgeous little ones. She keeps two fabulous blogs, here and here. Really, you should read her blogs.

Anyway, she recently began posting on Sundays, a SuperIma (Ima is Hebrew for Mom) check-in for us Moms to connect. So I checked her blog late Sunday and, within her post, she shared a link for this lady over here. I don't follow too many blogs. Seriously, I can barely keep up with my own, but something told me to click this time. The woman had been pregnant with twin girls and ended up having an emergency c-section and lost one of the babies. I was sad for her, and thought of her sporadically over the last two days. Out of curiosity, I checked back tonight and found that she has posted the whole story. OH. MY. GOSH.

You should read it. And maybe leave her some love, but at least send her some love through your thoughts. Her entire little family needs it.

I was just saying to my husband tonight that every now and then during the day I wish our little guy, Ari, would just nap a little bit longer so that I could get a yoga practice in, or finish the dishes, or clean the bathroom, or _________(fill in the blank) but then when I put him to bed at night, when I'm sitting on the couch, I often stare at the video monitor (yes, I still use the video monitor for my 9 month old because I'm obsessed with being able to see my baby whenever I want to and know that he's in his bed where I put him) and my heart just swells with love so powerful that I can't even describe it. I listen to him breathe, watch the curve of his little body sometimes rolling around to get comfortable, and I am so overwhelmed by this love that sometimes I think my heart skips a beat or two.

In twenty years (or maybe even in 10) I'm not gonna care if I practiced yoga for 45 minutes or for 90 minutes on a particular day, or if I "forgot" to clean the kitchen floor one week, or if the laundry piles up and I have to stay up a little later to get it done, but I know my life will be better if I got to laugh/snuggle/tickle/love my son a little bit extra here and there. I know I've said something similar in a previous post, but I think we all need reminders. We're still human, even if we are SuperImas, and it can be very easy to get caught up in the day-to-day and forget what really matters.

So, my friends, start your new year by saying a prayer to whoever it is you pray to and thank them for your beautiful life (it is beautiful, after all), kiss your babies/husbands/wives/partners/pets/loves, and send a little virtual love on over to Jen. She and her family could really use all the love they can get right now.