“I’m Just Another (Yoga) Heart In Need of Rescue…”

I have little tricks to get me through my Bikram Yoga classes.  If you do Bikram Yoga regularly you do too.  Do you ever look at yourself in the mirror after the push up at the end of the spine strengthening series and think to yourself, holy shit…I could be in a Whitesnake video?  I actually do.  I admit it.   I do.  One of my deepest, darkest, yoga secrets is what I like to think of the Whitesnake Yoga Mat Crawl.

What, you ask, is the Whitesnake Yoga Mat Crawl?  You know the part after the spine strengthening series when you are supposed to “push up and move to the top of your mat”?  This is my least favorite part of class.  It’s not camel.  It’s not triangle.  It’s this weird little transition.  Sometimes when I transition from the floor to the top of my mat I undo my messy bun, flip my sweat drenched hair out of my eyes, look at my mascara smeared eyes and feel as if I missed my true calling.  I should be married to an 80s rock star doing yoga on the hood of his car.  And sometimes, if no one I know is nearby and the teacher is on the other side of the room, I do the Whitesnake Yoga Mat Crawl.  No one else sees it.  No one pays attention to me in class and I hide in the corners.  And it is very subtle.  You would have to know what to look for.

Most people don’t know what to look for it because most people have no idea what I am talking about.  If you are old enough to know of Whitesnake you probably have forgotten about them.  Most of you probably just don’t know at all.  For those of you sad people who fall into that category,  here is a little history lesson.  Whitesnake was a band in the 80s.  They sang a song called “Here I go Again on my Own.”  Whitesnake made a video.  The video had an amazingly sexy woman, Tawny Kitaen.  Tawny Kitaen crawled around on the hoods of two jaguars parked next to each other.  Tawny Kitaen did not just crawl around on the hoods of the jaguars but also did the splits and cartwheels on the jaguars.  Let me emphasize that—she did cartwheels on the jaguars.  She was married to David Coverdale the lead singer of Whitesnake.  They got divorced in 1991.  She subsequently went to jail and rehab.  But she will always have the glory of being known as the “Whitesnake car girl”. No one can take that away from her.  You should know this and you should be ashamed of yourself if you don’t.

Here is why I really do the Whitesnake Yoga Mat Crawl.  It’s not because I think I should be crawling around on jaguars while 80s rock stars sing to me.  I mean, that would be awesome but I’m 41.  Those days have passed for me.  I’m old and injured.  The Whitesnake Yoga Mat Crawl is not an attempt to recapture the daydreams of my youth.  The truth is it actually takes a minute for me to make my body move when the spine strengthening series is over.  I have a semi-serious SI joint issue and I get stuck in that transition.  When I get stuck it hurts.  And when it hurts I have to think about something else.  I choose to think not about the pain in my hip or the surgery I am avoiding but rather to channel my inner Whitesnake car girl.  I don’t think she had SI joint issues.  Although after re-watching the video I think she likely does now.  It certainly doesn’t look like her hip hurt then though.  However, if it did, she sure didn’t let it show and it did not stop her.  She powered through and went on to make out with her 80s rock star husband in the back of the same car, apparently while it was moving.  She was a sexy, badass.

Little did I know in 1987 that this would become my theme song and has and will be blasted from various car radios, walkmen, CD players and ipods for years. It’s the ultimate break up song.  And little did I know in 1987 that in 2013 I would think of this video almost every day at yoga class.  I hope David Coverdale knows the profound impact he has had on my life.

So if you ever look over to my corner and wonder why I’m frozen in a strange position, it’s probably because I am imagining myself doing the Whitesnake Yoga Mat Crawl.  I ask you not to judge me and simply to respect my moment.  The same way I respect your moments.  We all have them.  We all have our little tricks to get us through.   Yours may not involve Whitesnake but you know you have them.  Do whatever it takes.

Namaste.

Zombies!

I am not spontaneous.  Not one little bit.  And not when it comes to running.  So when I said yes at 9pm to a 5K the next morning (in less than 13 hours) it was a little out of character.  It came about something like this:

Text message from T:  Do you want to run the Zombie Apocalypse with Angela tomorrow?

Me:  I don’t know, do I?

Text message from T:  Of course you do, there will be zombies.

Me:  Ok.

This is not what I do.  I am very serious and contemplative.  I do not make rash decisions.  And moreover, I don’t run trails.  I don’t do runs with obstacles.  And I don’t do zombies.  Well…not on purpose anyway.  Sometimes it just ends up that way.

Nevertheless, I made a knee jerk decision to run a 5K obstacle run while being chased by zombies in the hills of the North Valleys the next morning with Angela.  I stopped drinking the cranberry-cherry-strawberry flavored vodka and diet soda I was enjoying and went to bed.  I watch the Walking Dead.  I am well aware that it would not be wise to knowingly go into the zombie apocalypse hung over.

The next morning I left 2 hours before the race because I hadn’t pre-registered.  I always pre-register.  I mean what if they run out of t-shirts?  Who waits till the last-minute like that?  I found Angela, got my t-shirt (phew) and wandered around stressing out.  This was my first race since my marathon in October.  I was still in marathon start mode and I was freaking out.  I didn’t bring water with me.  Would there be water on the course? Oh my God, I didn’t even know.   I didn’t bring Gu. I didn’t have sunscreen or even lip gloss.  Lip gloss is my running essential.  I debated whether or not to run with music.  If I was in an Usher induced fantasy, would I be aware of the zombies sneaking up on me?  I questioned my decision to wear my super cute lavender running shoes.  There is a trail and maybe obstacles that would get my beloved lavender shoes dirty.   I should have worn old shoes.  What was I thinking?

Here is what I was thinking.  I was thinking I love all things zombies.  And I was thinking I really needed to have some fun.

Someone recently told me that my love of the Walking Dead is infantile.  Infantile!   I am certain this individual could not really mean what he said.  The zombie apocalypse is upon us and we all need to be prepared.  I believe these comments are spawned by pure, insane, jealousy.   This individual is secretly in love with me, despite his very loud statements to the contrary, and is jealous that I refer to Daryl Dixon as my future husband.  His masculinity is threatened by the fact that I post pictures of Norman Reedus with kittens on my friend’s Facebook page.  It is unfortunate he feels this way.  I simply won’t be able to save him and his children in the apocalypse.  They will be unprepared and they will be dead weight.  We will see who was infantile then, won’t we?

So I ran the zombie apocalypse 5K with Angela and had a blast.  There were trails.  There were obstacles.  My lavender shoes got dirty.    And there were zombies.   It was a 45 minute escape from reality that I desperately needed.  And we both decided that if the zombie apocalypse is only a 5K it will be totally doable.  I was fine without water and Gu.  And believe it or not, I was fine without lip gloss.

We live in a stress filled, heart breaking and unforgiving world.   Find some fun where you can. And let your friends, girlfriends and definitely-not-girlfriends-because-you-are-affraid-to-make-a-commitment find their fun too.  Be spontaneous…whatever that means to you.

Namaste.

Hug A Runner!

I need a hug. I think I’m not alone.  I haven’t really been able to talk about what happened at the Boston Marathon.  Because I’m a marathoner, I’ve had a lot of people check in with me to see if I’m doing ok but I haven’t  talked about it.  Not really.

I went for a run this morning like almost every morning and didn’t really think about it.   I was running along, trying to keep my idiot dog from chasing the bunnies like usual.  Thinking about all the crap I need to do.  Hoping my son will make it through the school day and get his biology done.  Obsessing about why the scale has budged even though I gave up Starbucks and Vodka.  Good God, what will it take?  I pick up the pace as a result of the obsessing.  Charlie and I ran our regular course that takes us by my son’s middle school.  I didn’t even think about Boston until I saw the flag.  Then it hit me and I started to hurt.  Not just in my heart but everywhere.  I hurt and I started to really think about why.  I think it took me a few days to process.

Yes it is a terrible tragedy and everyone with a heart or any level of humanity hurts on some level.  But this time it is different for me.   This isn’t the regular national tragedy hurt.  How awful that we now have so many national tragedies that I can recognize the hurt as different?  This is more personal hurt.  I think I know why.

I am blessed to have finished seven marathons in my 41 years on earth.  I say blessed because it is a blessing to be able to complete 26.2 miles of running.  Sure it is hard work and determination but as I get older I realize it is a blessing to have the strength, stamina and the heart of a runner.  Not everyone can do it and after my last marathon in October I understand that better than I did before.  Honestly I don’t know if I can do it again.

Now, seven marathons is an accomplishment but not one of those marathons was Boston.  And without a significant act of God and a serious breast reduction surgery it is highly unlikely I will ever qualify for Boston.  I think as it stands now, my best marathon time might qualify me for Boston if I was 80.  I was stunned today to hear someone say that they didn’t realize the Boston Marathon was such a big deal.  I explained, probably in too much detail the significance of the Boston Marathon.  Boston is BOSTON.  It’s it.   But it doesn’t hurt so much because it was BOSTON.  It hurts so much because it was a finish line of a marathon.

Although it is not likely I will ever be at the Boston Marathon finish line, I have been at the finish line of a lot of big races.  I have been at finish lines with my dearest friends.  My family has waited for me at those finish lines.  One boyfriend would have waited for me at one of these finish lines but he had Bloody Marys while I was running so he actually went to the wrong finish line but I think that counts–maybe.  My son has waited for me at those finish lines.  I know those people.  It hurts because it was a finish line and it hurts because the victims were like us.

I’ve been thinking about those runners who were stopped and didn’t make it to the finish because of the explosion.  I would have been one of them.  I would not have been finished.  I think about them I wonder how many of them were running the race with their running partner.  How many of them didn’t know where their partner was on the course or if they were safe?  My current running partner, Teresa is one of my dearest friends.  Let me tell you, you learn all each others secrets when you meet at 6 am on Sunday mornings to run for hours and hours week after week.  You become best friends by dodging skunks and coyotes and bums in the wee hours of the morning.  Teresa is one of the few people on God’s green earth who gets me.  She knows about my broken heart and my deepest fears.  And more importantly, she is the only person who knows that when I listen to Scream by Usher I imagine he is singing to me.  Like many running partners we don’t stay together the whole race.  Mainly because after 20 miles I start to bug the shit out of Teresa.  What if I didn’t know where Teresa was?  What if I couldn’t find her? What if I didn’t know she was ok?  That is unimaginable to me.

Then I started thinking about their people.   At about mile 25 of a marathon, you know you are going to make it.  It’s a done deal.  Even if you have to crawl the mile to the finish line you will.  Even if you are crying or throwing up, or crying and throwing up at the same time, you are going to make it.  At mile 25 you perk up and start looking for your people.  It’s amazing how you can find them in the crowd of literally thousands.  They stand out like your own shining stars.  At some point in time my people have been where the victims  were.  My Dad has been there.  Teresa has been there.  Teresa’s sister has been there.  My Mom has been there.  My brother has been there.  Taylor has been there although not happily.  His usual response when I finish is “can we go to the pool now?”  But they have all been there.

It hurts so much because I know as a runner,  the people hurt in Boston could be us.  They are us.  They have names.  They are Teresa.  They are Teresa’s sister Angela and her friends Hollie and Meg.  They are Jill, Allison, Shannon, and the rest of the adorable girls from Lady Jaga, my ill-fated Reno-Tahoe Odyssey team.  They are Jules.  They are Krista.  They are Chuck, Marj, Sonia, Carla, Heidi and Scott.  They are Kristina, Peter and Flavia from my law firm’s running  team.  They are my running idols, Dani and Krupski.  They are the random stranger who told me I was  “awesome” and mile 25 last October and made me burst into tears.  She said—to me– “you are awesome!”.  She didn’t even know me.  They are my firefighters in Tuxedos.  I feel like I know these people because have been at finish lines with all of them and their families, friends and maybe even some poor girl’s drunk boyfriend who is actually at the wrong finish line.   They are us.

If you have never been to a finish line you should go sometime.  They are the most inspiring places ever.  Even though I have cried my way to the ice tent because my knee, ankle, Achilles tendon, or hip hurt like they have never hurt before, there is nowhere on this earth that I have ever felt stronger, happier, sexier, prettier, tougher and better than at the finish line. 

I wonder if the people who did this know how meaningful a finish line is and if that was part of the plan.  I watch Homeland so I know that soft targets are supposed to hit us close to home.  They are supposed to get in our heads and make us afraid to live life.  But I really wonder if they knew the impact it would have on all runners and all people who love runners.  I kind of doubt it and I don’t think it matters to them.  It was just a busy place with lots of people to hurt. 

So I’ve come to the conclusion that it hurts so much because this time it really could have been me.  It could have been us.  It could have been Taylor. And it was one of our best places.

I pray for peace for the victims, the runners, their people and the first responders.  I hope for peace for the rest of us.  I hope if you read this and love a runner, you will give them a hug when you see them.  I think I speak for all of us when I say we need it.

Namaste.

Commitmentphobes Beware—I’m on to your lies.

“I don’t want a commitment.”  If I had a dollar for every time I heard that I would be living on the canals in Venice Beach and paddle boarding to yoga every day.  I’ve been thinking a lot about these words and what they really mean.  I actually think that the people who have said this to me don’t really mean it.  They mean something else.   I think it isn’t the commitment they are afraid of.  It is me.  Or you.  Or whomever they are referring to.  It is the fear that they will get hurt.  Or that they might feel something again.  Or maybe it is the simple basic fear that they will have to give up their playboy lifestyle and they simply don’t want to.  It isn’t a fear of a commitment it is a fear of something else and it’s time we are all honest about that.

I have a question for everyone who has ever uttered these words to me.  Why not?  I don’t understand what is so scary about the idea of a commitment.   I am committed to many things in my life and they all bring me joy and happiness and fulfillment.  Imagine if a person could give you that.  Why wouldn’t you want that?  Or at least try that.   This phrase is uttered far too often and far too soon.

We all are committed to many things in our lives.  And I think we would all agree that our commitments bring meaning to our lives.  I am hopelessly committed to my child.  That brings more meaning to my life than anything.  I am committed to my career.  I stick with it even when it isn’t everything I want it to be and just work to change it. I am committed to my charity work.   I am committed to running, yoga, staying in some semblance of shape.  None of those commitments damage my life in any way.  They bring meaning and happiness to it.   I am even committed to learning to play the cello.  I never thought I would have a commitment to a cello but I do.  It gives me such a sense of calm and ultimately will bring me such a sense of accomplishment that I can’t imagine not committing to my cello.  It just goes to show that you never know what commitment will result in love and you should not be afraid to try.

Imagine if someone allowed themselves to make the same commitment to a person.  To me.  Or to you.   Imagine the potential rewards.  Why wouldn’t they want that?

I have decided that the men who use these buzz words…because that is really all those words are… don’t actually mean what they are saying.  I think they are definitely afraid of something.   But it isn’t a commitment.  In good interpersonal relationships, a commitment to that relationship is a given.   I think it comes about without ever having to have that oh so awkward talk.  Without ever having to say “I don’t want a commitment”.  Or maybe they aren’t afraid.  Maybe they just don’t like me.  Maybe they just don’t like me or you.  And that is ok.  Maybe that honesty would be easier than this vague and ridiculous concept of not wanting a commitment.  It actually causes less heartache than telling me they don’t want a commitment and then marrying the very next woman they meet.

So I’m calling bullshit on the cliché of the fear of commitment.  It’s fear but not fear of a commitment.  Commitments come in all shapes and sizes and we all make them every day.  It’s fear of something else.  Men are impossible and probably can’t even articulate the fear it really is.  But it is time to be honest about it.  By putting up the “I don’t want a commitment” wall, it is really these guys that are losing out.   So, I’m just not going to hear it anymore.  And in the meantime, I’m going to stay committed to the loves in my life; Taylor, yoga, running, cello, work, and friendships.  I do not have a fear of commitment.  Only good things come from putting your whole heart into something.   And I’m not giving up hope that there is a handsome man out there that believes the same thing.

 

When Yoga Love Goes Wrong

Cellos and Martinis

I recently suffered a serious ankle sprain which has left me on the coach and yoga mat instead of on the pavement for almost two months.  I just was cleared for running again.  For those of us working through injuries, this seems like a day that will never come.  I somehow made it through with my sanity relatively intact.  Here are some things I learned along the way:

1. Listen to your doctors.  I promised myself, and my mother, that I would listen to the doctors and not push myself.   I have been doing everything my doctor and physical therapist say.  Including foregoing my beloved high heel shoes for nearly two months now.  They really know what they are talking about.  You will be happy you listened to them.   And your mother will be happy too.
2. Explore other activities.  I know this is going to sound very shocking, perhaps even unbelievable to some of my running friends but –believe it or not—there is more to life than running.  Use this time that are recovering from your injury to think about some other activities you may want to try.  Yoga is my favorite “other activity” because you still get to do something physical.  Think about taking up photography, learning the cello, cooking, reading, biking…the possibilities are endless.  There is a whole world full of things to do that aren’t running.  It’s radical, I know, but think about it.
3. Focus on Your Nutrition.  For me, running is my primary weight management tool.  Having that taking away really forced me to look at what I eat and make better food choices.  I initially planned to go vegetarian but have ended up going full-blown vegan (well most days) during this running hiatus. I even tried the 30 day body cleanse.  I feel better than ever and have lost 8 pounds!  Thank you very much!
4. Do some Goal Setting.  What better time to reassess your goals—your realistic goals that is—than now when you aren’t out training for something every day.  This has given me some time to really assess what my goals are going to be once I return to running.  Since I’ll be starting over basically, maybe I will build up some distances in my super cute vibrams.  With this well-earned break maybe I will be able to do a full marathon this year.  Maybe I want to move into the triathlon world.  Maybe I want to hang up my running shoes, pick up a bow and play the cello.  You don’t hear of many cello related injuries.

5.  Shop!  When all else fails shop!  Clean out your old gear and make a list of what new gear you need.  Donate your old shoes and get some new ones.  Order an extra of your favorite sports bra.  Replace the tights that got ruined by your fall.  Get some new socks.  Download some new tunes.  Stock up so that you will be ready to hit the pavement when you can and you will be thrilled at the assortment of cute injury prevention gear including pink ankle braces, cow print compression tape and ice bags covered in martini glasses (www.gal-pal.com)! 

Everything happens for a reason.  So embrace your time on the couch, yoga mat or wherever you choose and enjoy your martini ice pack!

I love purses!

My Aunt makes these fabulous purses.  They are handknit, felted and extremely fabulous.

They are available in all sizes.  The largest ones can hold a yoga mat, water and all your yoga gear.  The mid size ones can hold court files, books, and all you need to make it through your day.

And…finally they are available to purchase from Krista or me.  The Amazing Purse Brokers!  Leave your email in the comments below and we will let you know details!

Namaste!