frustration and discomfort (and things I actually do like about fall)

The thing about winter, and why it doesn't get my wrath, is because it's supposed to be cold. I'm simply resigned to that.

Well, it's been a little while since I've posted. I'm hardly on the computer at home, and this is the crazy-busy time of year at work.

First things first, I suppose:
While I did not come close to finishing 30 classes in 30 days, I think I did between 15 and 20, which is a far more regular practice than I've had in a long time. I think it really helped in getting better results with the chiropractor, too. On the 26th, I did my first class without water — I think it was the first, anyway. I didn't plan on it, but I got to the studio late and didn't have time to fill my bottle nor grab a bottle from the cooler.

I didn't die. Actually, it wasn't even that bad. I wouldn't want to make it a regular thing, as I like having the option of taking a sip when I (think I) need it. But water-free class went fine. Class on the 30th was cancelled because of flooding and a power outage in the area, and I was crushed that there was no class. I know, it surprised me, too.

These days... ohhhhhh, these days.
Like I've written before, the initial problems that got me in the door to the chiropractor's office are pretty much resolved, which is fabulous. But my muscles are quite, very, surprisingly, unbelievably sore in the hours and day after my appointments. Then my weird skin pain kicked back up into high gear. I scratched an itch on my shoulder one night, and it felt like I was digging into a deep bruise. Awesome.

The BF and I took the dogs for a hike this past Saturday afternoon, and although the scenery was stunning, the hike was really physically challenging for me. Within a few minutes, I was out of breath, and my muscles (HELLO, HAMSTRINGS!!!) were screaming at me. I kept up, and threw sticks for the dogs while he climbed, but on the trip back to the car, my legs felt like Jell-O. By the time we got home, it was all I could do to take a shower and pass out. This hike wasn't exceptionally long, either. Gahhhh... Couldn't help but think, What is wrong with me???

And over the past two weeks, it has felt like my back muscles have been slowly developing the texture of beef jerky. Everything in spasm, all of the time, especially between my shoulderblades and spine. And the exhaustion, oh mannnn. Normally, when I get on the train in the morning and evening, I get a little something done before I sleep for about 20 minutes, whether it's knitting, editing, reading, or playing stupid games on my phone. Now, it's hard to stay awake for a few minutes until the conductor checks tickets. Then, my head drops and I probably drool all the way to work (or home).

Something funny:
All last week, I felt bombarded by "I love fall" sentiments. I love that everyone else loves fall, and some people write about it just beautifully.

Me, on the other hand, well, I do not love fall. Not even pumpkin spice lattes. After about a week of glorious 60ish-degree days, I've had enough, thanks. It portends only colder things to come, and cold makes my body very, very uncomfortable. (I once read a piece called "You Know You're From San Diego If..." and it included "...if it's below 60 degrees, you're freezing, and if it's above 85, you're dyyyying it's so hot." It's pathetisad, but mostly true, for me.) So BF's mom was waxing poetic Saturday about how lovely fall is, and made the mistake of asking if I didn't love it. I'd had it. I said something to the effect of, No, I don't. It gets cold, and I don't like being cold. It makes my body hurt. I'm ready to move to Southeast Asia where I can love hot-and-wet and hot-and-dry year-round. (And the food!)

Well, my little friends, I've learned to be careful what I wish for.
I went to yoga Sunday, and the room felt extra-hot. Maybe it's me, I thought, as I took a knee for the umpteenth time (the HAMSTRINGS!!! from the hike, 'member?). But then I noticed my neighbor R, who I've never seen sit, was sitting. And he's usually on the hot side of the room, anyway! The teacher temporarily opened the door between the studio and the lobby, and put the fans on full blast, and generally tried to cool us down even a smidge. In the first, long, savasana, it felt like the bottoms of my feet were actually on fire. Which I've experienced before (the feeling, not actual combustion), but never at this studio. Thank goodness this was not an accidentally-water-free class: My lips were cracking.

Turns out it was 116 degrees.

OK, UNIVERSE! I get it. I will not express my disdain for chill any longer. I will accept the temperature as it is every day, and rock the heating pad as often as I need to in an attempt to stay reasonably pliable. I will invest in SmartWool and live another several months wearing their long-janes under my jeans (I heart SmartWool).

Stay Positive:
In an effort to be positive, the BF and I are going to come up with one thing every day that is good about fall. (He loves autumn because it is prime rock-climbing season here, and prime surfing season at home [amazing that I still call it that, but that's another post for another day].) This is an easy list for him.

Through the fog of my crankiness and crybabyness and general wahh, wahhh of the past few weeks, and which you've just read through, I've come up with a few things I like:
Fewer tourists in the way at Grand Central and hindering passage along the sidewalks on my walk to work.
The smell of wood-burning fires.
No mosquitos!!! (This is a big LIKE.)
Wearing beanies.
The crunchy noise leaves make underfoot.
Rain. (Which I realize isn't limited to fall, but it reminds me of my very favoritestest season "at home": winter at the beach.)
Rooting for the little guys in the baseball playoffs. (Go Twins! Go Rays!)

Another positive: After one particularly chilly train ride home, it occurred to me that as hot yoga has helped me learn to love the heat, perhaps cold yoga would help me better deal with chills. My plan: Start a worldwide empire of yoga studios, renting out old meat lockers wherein we can practice a predetermined sequence of postures to a dialogue delivered by someone wearing a snowsuit. Class temperatures will not exceed 40 degrees (Fahrenheit, to clarify for any non-U.S. readers I might have) — mind over the matter, right? Instead of coconut-water coolers, we'll have hot chocolate and soup ready to serve up after class.

I think it could work... you?

;)

Day 13: Getting frustrated

First things first: No yoga last night. I'm now two classes down, again. My goal wasn't just to do 30 classes in 30 days (which I'm fairly optimistic I can still do). I'd wanted to do at least one class every day for at least 30 days. So: Grrrrrr.

The midback pain that I initially went to the chiropractor for seems to be resolving quite well. My spine feels straighter, and now that the initial insane muscle soreness has passed (despite Dr. E's continued efforts to leave me black and blue), my back-back is feeling pretty good. My lower back, on the other hand...

Dr. E has been working on moving my left hip around, trying to get it to want to become unstuck. Not forcing anything, but gradually opening things up in there.

My, how they are opening.

The shooting, stabbing pains in my sciatic area started a few hours after yesterday's appointment. The long-compacted SI joint seems like a creaky door that has been shut tightly for years, and is going to need some coaxing to stay open. That groan the door makes when you open it? I think my joint is making that noise. I took ibuprofen (Advil), then naproxen (Aleve) later on. Left a heating pad on it while sitting at my desk. Seemed to help.

Then I stood up and tried to walk, and the joint screamed at me. Two hours later, sitting at home, after more ibuprofen, I had an ice pack on the joint. The pain was so bad that I felt like I was going to vomit. So, no yoga last night either, causing me to be pretty frustrated.

Last night, I went upstairs to find feathers everywhere and two holes in my not-new-but-until-now-awesome down comforter. Lucy, the 7-month-old puppy, had a guilty look on her face.

She is cute, but she is sneaky.

It was the last straw for me. She had already chewed through the only decent pairs of shoes I had. (I'm not a shoe whore, but now I think I should be. It would have been nice to have backup shoes.) My car is falling apart. My computer is falling apart. Because of my weight gain since moving to NY, a lot of my clothes don't fit. I am flat broke, and I can't seem to catch up on basic things in life outside of utilities, train passes, and credit card payments (and believe me, I am incredibly grateful that I mostly have those under control, but this is my freakout). I'd wanted to visit San D in November, visit my friends and some family and my old beaches and Bikram teacher training, but I have no idea where money for airfare is going to come from. I'm not a materialistic person by any means, but is it so much to just ask for one thing, just one, to be in reasonably good shape? Normally, in the face of such destruction/dilapidation, I can say, "Well, at least I've got my health." Not this time.

That's right. I went from superkilling back pain to total freakout just like that. I spent the next 20 minutes or so wailing in the bathroom — didn't want to wake the BF — torturing myself with questions like, Is it (this nebulous "it") karma? Is it fibro, which I recently thought I'd been so good at appeasing, rearing its ugly head? Do I deserve this pain and this instability (inside and out, I guess) because of something I've done (or didn't do)? On and on and on it went, verging on self-pity but (I hope) not totally giving in. It's more frustration, I promise.

And then I remembered all the times that people have told me we store emotions in our bodies. So hopefully that is all this is. I'm a control freak about very few things, but I think maybe some of those tendencies are coming out, as maybe all of the bodywork I've been having has accelerated the process.

But it'd sure be nice to not be frustrated. And it'd be nice to be able to walk/sit/breathe without my nerves screaming at me.

Gahhh, this is quite the unfocused rant, but that's what blogs are for, right? If you've read this far, well, I apologize. At least you got to see my cute dogs. :)

Days 10, 11 and 12: The picture I wanted to post before

That's pitcher Jered Weaver, one of my favorite players on my favorite team, practicing crow pose before a game on April 21, 2009.

Day 11 was good. Would you believe I took class from Bikram himself? It's true: he taught in my living room! The CD is cool like that. For a long time I really didn't like the CD. It aggravated me in ways that are hard to pin down now.

But now, I giggle at most of the Bikram-isms and really find a kind of comfort in the rest of his dialogue. The man is funny. His accent and pidgin English are also kind of funny (except "much more higher." That is not funny. It just hurts my ears.) He segues into singing at times, from silly ("Don't look so sad/Don't look so lonely/Long way from home/To kill yourself...") to more somber tunes (he intones something during a savasana in the floor series, and he could be singing Britney Spears for all I know, but it just seems less jokey).

I went rock climbing later in the day, finally some "easy" stuff (the routes my BF finds are not usually easy enough for me, and it's never truly easy). I climbed the strongest and fastest I have in a long time, and with less hesitation/freak-out about moves. Yes, it was an easyish route, but I wasn't scared. Pretty sure that's the yoga effect, my friends. :)

Since I'd missed Friday night again (it's not even like I'm going out and partying, I just cook longer and relax longer and start drinking wine earlier...), I had to do a double Sunday and make up for at least one of my two missed classes.

Previous experiences with doubles had not been good: I had done one class early and one class later, and the later class was usually really hard. So of course I was realllllly intimidated by the idea of doing back-to-back classes, followed by my usual hours of cleaning. I'd carefully planned out that in the half-hour between classes, I would chug a coconut water, shower quickly, change clothes, and help as needed at the desk. Well, the desk was chaos from the start, and I didn't have a chance to shower or change. (Importantly, I got the coconut water!)

I ran into the room for the second class just as the teacher was about to start pranayama, and I had a good, strong class. It was small, and nearly half of the students were brand-newbies. I think I decided that since I had to be an example, I *couldn't* have a weak or unfocused class. And I didn't. (And the new kids did so great! I was so proud of them.)

The first class was really aggravating on a personal-space level, and the work-study cleaning after class was really frustrating, and I could go on and on and on here about the specifics, but I'm mostly going to just try to let it go.

One funny thing, though:
I thoroughly cleaned the mirrors during the long gap between the second morning class and the (usually very small) afternoon class. They looked awesome. They were perfectly clean. The later-class's teacher and I had been discussing various cleaning issues/dramas. Usually after class, the mirrors just need to be spot-cleaned. I told D that I'd done everything possible to make her post-class duties easy, and she'd just have to spot-clean the mirrors before leaving. ... ... ... ...

And then The Flinger walked in. As soon as he was safely in the studio, we just smacked our palms to our foreheads. The best-laid plans...

Just in time for National Yoga Month! (with a long aside)

I'm planning on doing a 30-day challenge in September. Not just because it's on my 30 Before 30 list. There are a couple of answers to "Why do this now?"

1. September actually has only 30 days. Just four months can claim that! For some reason, it works better in my mind this way. I think I'd be inclined to excuse myself for one day if I were to challenge in a 31-day month. This may make no sense, at all, but it's how my brain works... Also, it isn't cold yet, so I can get a good sweat on even in a mostly-home practice.

2. My life finally has a semblance of routine: I work at the yoga studio one night and one day a week. I go to work and I come home and I play with dogs. Sometimes I cook, sometimes the boyfriend does. It's all very boring, but I wouldn't have it any other way. (Well, that's not entirely true. I wish I could magically transport myself to work in an instant, but it's not going to happen, and I love where I live and I love where I work, so. That's that.)

3. The New York asana competition is in October, and participating is also on my 30 Before 30 list. Doing this challenge will help me prepare for that in a couple ways. Getting stronger with postures. Getting stronger in general. Losing a couple of pounds (maybe). Developing Bikram's five aspects of the mind (that's a great link; you should click it!): faith, determination, self-control, concentration and patience. Taking part in the competition might not happen, however, because 1) My emails to Bikram Yoga NYC have gone unanswered; 2) I can't seem to find anything about this year's competition, including a date, and 3) My back is kind of angry.

Aside/explanation about the back; feel free to skip this:

I've had lower back pain on and off for years now, and I'm used to it, and it's a dull-ache kinda thing. Yoga helps, etc, etc. I love, LOVE backbending. However, over the past three weeks to a month, I've developed pretty bad pain and stiffness in my midback. Well, the muscles have always been tight, but now my spine really feels stiff. Backbending HURTS. Feels like a metal rod is in my spine.

In a trip to the chiropractor Wednesday (the first such visit in over two years), I learned that the apex of my pain is right at the apex of my spine's scoliotic curve, like the point on the left side of this character: < . OK, maybe it's not quite that severe, but it feels like it! I also learned that my spine is more of a wreck than I had assumed/accepted. The doc actually asked me, "What happened to you?" as though she thought I'd been in a car accident, or something. Maybe she was hoping to keep steady any business from me. Not to worry, doc.

It was interesting to hear her rundown of my structural issues, as her observations actually validated a lot of perceptions (proprioceptions?) I'd had. For example, even when my feet are together, toes and heels touching, I feel like my left hip is waaay forward of the right one. And I feel like my head is constantly tilted to the right. And like my right shoulder is trying to reach forward to touch my wacky left hip. (This explains why my half-moon to the right comes extremely naturally — I'm already halfway there.) And on and on. And I was right!!!

Well, she did some work on my neck (my chin goes straight down now! Yay!) and my wonky lower back, and although I was sore yesterday, it was a good sore. Just like I've heard at yoga, my body didn't get into so much pain overnight; it's unreasonable to expect it to get awesome overnight.

That doesn't, however, keep me from wanting it to be awesome overnight. In Thursday's class, I still had the midback pain, and in the first backbend I just tried to breathe through the pain/fear (about which a post is started and sitting in draft version). The second one I did OK, though nowhere near its usual depth. The last thing I wanted to do was jam everything up. Which brings me back to...

End aside/explanation. Sheesh, that was long.

4. My back is kind of angry. A challenge, undertaken with care and concern and compassion, can work wonders for my spine, especially in concert with chiropractic.

What I hope to learn from you, lovelies, is why you do challenges. And what are some of the biggest obstacles to completing them? How do you address those obstacles? I won't be able to use the "I don't have enough time" excuse most days. My time commitment will be exactly 90 minutes (or however long the CD really is), since at least three days a week I'll be practicing at home. It's nice to have dealt with that excuse (my favorite, by the way) up front. Let's see if I don't talk myself out of it. :)

It's good to blog again. If you're a blogger, yoga-related or otherwise, know that I am always inspired (or at least entertained!) by what you've been writing. I so look forward to hearing your thoughts!

On the outside, looking ... around.

Every Second Saturday of the month, all the art galleries and many businesses on Main Street stay open late, serving wine and cheese (and tiramisu!) and celebrate new openings. One of me and B's favorite storefronts, School of Jellyfish, was hosting a multimedia presentation/installation/poetry reading/dance performance. I'd met the artist a while back, just hanging out one night outside the shop, and didn't get a very good vibe from her; she seemed like another city person marveling shallowly at the "cuteness" of our town.

So cut to this past Saturday night. When I got to the shop around 7, it was packed with people dressed quite fashionably and air-kissing one another's cheeks. (Those things are, of course, fine, but they rub me the wrong way in certain settings when innumerable other, nameless things are rubbing me the wrong way, too.) I said hi to B (who was volunteering) and got my plastic cup of Prosecco, then wandered toward the back to look over the crowd.

Out of the blue, tears welled in my eyes. Not from the magic of the performance (which was more engaging than I'd expected). No, it was from thoughts of how I don't fit in here, and I don't fit in anywhere, and why, oh why, is it bothering me? I so often feel like I'm just too frumpy, too boring, too vanilla, too soccer mom-style, for anywhere I go. I *so* long to be this fashionable, elegant, interesting, avant-garde-y woman. But I'm just me — which is really ok, most of the time.

The crowd shape-shifted as the artiste introduced her dancer and explained her concepts (check out ekphrasis and kinetochore). Taller-than-me people pushed back to make room, spilling into the space where I'd been standing. I went outside, where I could see the dancer better through the wall of windows on two sides of the building. She was ravishing. Though neither the poetry nor the eventual music were audible outside, I wouldn't have noticed either even if I had been inside. She was that great (and I usually have a hard time watching modern dance). So many people walking by had been headed for the next gallery, only to surprise themselves by stopping in the drizzle, taking in a bit of the performance. Those huge windows really are spectacular. As the rain intensified, I headed back in.

Last week, while writing a long-overdue email (Hi, E!), I spent too many words trying to explain my feelings about where I've lived, how the various places have affected me, and how I am sometimes frustrated by some things about some residents of my little city (some have never left, and hate NYC, and think it has no redeeming qualities, while others have moved up from NYC to the town, and have patronizing attitudes about it, e.g. having a backyard garden is somehow both quaint and exotic). When I lived in the Bay Area, I was so different because of this. When I moved to Utah, I was so outsider because of that.

So it shouldn't have been such a surprise to me, when a little later on Saturday night, after two more cups of wine, it occurred to me that I apparently reinforce this "I don't fit in" feeling. It got me asking: Why am I so invested in identifying as an outsider? So far, I think the answer is that I'm not "invested," really; I just don't know what my niche is (yet).

Except, except, except — at the yoga studio. There, I'm just me. I fold the laundry, sign people in, try to reassure new students that they won't die in the hot room, breathe. Right after class on Saturday, I was goofing around in the studio, trying some arm balances (note to self: bring a dry towel next time; they are much harder when you are sweaty). The teacher, W, was walking past the door to the hot room and saw me, then ran in and did a couple of postures with me! It was fun, a kind of playful challenging...

I guess that around the yoga studio (this one as well as my last one in UT), just about everyone is stripped of the outward affectations that I see as separating us. To be sure, there are women with the swankiest lululemon tops and perfect hair — this is Westchester, after all. But there, I don't feel less-than, or not something enough. It's enough to just show up for a common purpose, a common 90-minute moving meditation, where we attempt to drop our baggage, our drama, at the door, and just sweat out the issues in our tissues (as my old teacher Alex says).

As with so many things I've learned and practiced at the studio, I need to figure out how to internalize this feeling and carry it with me into the real world. It's enough to just show up somewhere, be me, and have a good time. Even if I'm standing in the back, in just a T-shirt and jeans.

Day 10/30: Yoga to the People

The boyfriend had a meeting "upstate" at 7:30 last night, so wouldn't be able to pick me up from the train station. So I made an after-work date with David's Bridal to try on bridesmaid dresses for my friend's October wedding. Hey, I thought, I could get out of there in time to do some yoga! So I brought my yoga clothes with me to work.

And I'm so glad I did! There is nothing like bridesmaid-dress-trying-on to motivate one to work out. It's irrelevant that most of those dresses are universally unflattering. The yoga studio had a 6:30 class just three blocks from the store, so after trying on four dresses and taking the requisite pictures for my friend, I made a beeline for the studio.

I had looked into going to another studio near work where one of the Bikram 101 challengers often practices, but HOLY SMOKES! Their single-class price is up to $30! Zoinks. Maybe that's to give students an incentive to buy a many-class package, but I can't afford one of those right now. So off I went to Yoga to the People, where classes are just 10 bucks. The only other time I've been there (in November I think?), I was worried about the quality of the instruction, and was so, so pleasantly surprised. They may not be an affiliated Bikram studio, but that teacher had clearly been to training and was A.W.E.S.O.M.E.

The studio was packed as usual when I got there. I didn't have any cash with me, and they don't take cards. Yikes! Awk-ward. But the girl working the desk and the woman who was to teach just told me not to worry about it; I could hit an ATM in the neighborhood after class and pay then. That was such a nice surprise. I set up my rented mat ($2) in the back (third) row, in one of the few remaining spaces. It felt really cool to not have an attachment to needing to be near the mirror.

A funny thing I noticed the first time at this studio, and this may be true of many classes in New York, was that students are really, umm, vocal with their breath. In the first breathing exercise, there was the slight hissing/snoring sound that I've heard at a couple studios, same as the noise sometimes demonstrated by teachers for new students. But the exhale, oh man, the exhale. It's like an actual vocal exercise. I really don't know how to describe it. You know the noise some people make when they see a cute baby (or baby animal, in my case)? That Awwwwwwww? Well, the exhale noise is like that, but breathier. It's not quite a moan, but certainly approximates it.

It's so foreign to me, but I have on more than one occasion felt like I am really restrained in producing noise with my body. (That sounds bizarre.) I guess I've just never really found that place in myself that experiences anything other than awkwardness when deliberately trying to create some kind of primal sound. For me, for me, there is nothing authentic about it and so it feels like a waste of time and for me, dignity.

BUT!

I realized last night that many of the students there are likely actors, singers, or other kinds of performers. So many of them have practiced working with their breath, and have exercises that mimic pranayama breathing, but with that additional step of warming up the vocal cords. Once I figured that out, the breathing didn't seem melodramatic. It just seemed like an extension of their other passions. Which, to me, is pretty awesome.

The instructor was fabulous. The woman (I think her name was Kati, like kah-tee) has been teaching for 25 years (not sure if it's been Bikram the whole time) and she was amazing. Super, super strong, very deliberate with instructions for anatomy, good energy, good with the new students. I don't know this woman at all, and she never called me by name (students write their names on a sticker that goes by the mat), but just by her presence, I was pushed to go deeper into some postures. It's possible that was my deepest floor bow since moving to New York — it felt like my stuck shoulders were finally, finally, opening up. (I would give anything to have a photo of the time three years ago that my old studio owner picked me up by the wrists while I was in this posture. I wish I could see where my shoulders were then, because they actually feel better now.)

Today, I'm not too sore. I feel it most in my feet, and in my left knee, which had another rough/tight class. It's really interesting to feel something happening there. I imagine I must have developed a bad biomechanical habit when I busted my ankle in November, and now (despite post-activity tenderness in the ankle) I'm working through the mechanics. It's good. :) With the exception of some unfortunate loose short-shorts slippage on a guy in front of me during the spine-strengthening series (really, I was overdue for some kind of sighting like this), and some aching guts due to eating fabulous tacos for lunch, it was a great, great class. That studio packs people in, but people are respectful despite being mat to mat.

Another note: I really like my peace and quiet in savasana. On Sunday I got all snippy about people slamming the door at that studio. Well, here, after class, people were whispering (but 50 people whispering adds up, noisewise) and the studio doors are opened to the lobby (I don't know if this was just last night, or is always the case) where people are arriving for the 8:30 class. It was LOUD!

Then I remembered something in Bikram's orange book. It's nice if you can meditate in a soothing place that smells good, with an altar and whatever else you need to achieve total serenity and oneness with the universe. But one point of his yoga is to help us get to the point where we can meditate under any circumstances, whether we're upside down in a hot room or sitting in traffic in Los Angeles when it's 90 degrees and the car's air conditioner doesn't work.

This is my challenge, my opportunity. To be able to go inward to find that quiet, still place. I wonder if this is linked in any way to my difficulties with rabbit posture, if it is truly the opposite of camel (which I usually find fun, without the difficult physical and emotional experiences so many others have). Rabbit brings up in me the same things I often hear mentioned with camel. So, time to look inward.

Namaste, kids!