runnin

On top of my yoga practice I have also started running this week. Nothing wild. Just a few miles.  Running and I have had a tumultuous relationship.  I am not one of those people that gets a high off a good run.  I usually just feel exhausted and in pain.  When I was home over winter break this year my brother had read Born to Run. I had heard a great deal about the book, and had done a bit of research into the barefoot running craze.  I must say, I was not convinced.  I think I greatly offended my brother when I told him I thought it was just a fad.  He told me that my inability to run was just in my head.  That if I set my mind to it I could just go out and run 10 miles if I wanted.  No, pretty sure I can’t.    

I rarely acknowledged when I was little that my asthma affected my life.  Until recently I either denied having it entirely, or claimed it was only a problem when I was ill.  While it’s true that it does hit me a lot harder when I have a cold, there is more to it than that. It really does affect my activity. There is no reason a healthy 20 something year old shouldn’t be able to run a few miles.  I struggle more than someone who works out as much as I do should. 

About a year ago I was training for a sprint triathlon.  While that may be no big deal to some, it was a huge goal for me.  I was in the gym twice a day, every day, swimming, running, biking and lifting.  After H1N1 turned bronchitis (thanks asthma) turned sinusitis, turned freak allergic reaction turned meningitis I was out of commission for the tri and again fell into a rut of not working out.  I always go in spurts.  I have played just about every sport there is to play, for a season.  I haven’t found anything (until yoga) that I really loved doing.  One thing I did love at the end of my tri training was the way I looked. 

I am once again going to train for something. And hope that I don’t break and ankle or get pneumonia before it.  There is a marathon on the coast in the fall that a few friends did this year.  Maybe I’ll humor my brother a little bit and see about those 10+ miles he seems to think I can do.  And maybe a little struggle is worth the killer legs.  I'll give it a shot.  

the blog name

In yoga, we typically begin and end each class with ‘Namaste.’  When I first took yoga classes in high school I had no idea what that meant or what it was all about.  But I went with it. For a few years it was a little bit of a mystery.  But I started taking some other classes and was given a few explanations.  There are many interpretations of the word but the title “the light in me honors the light in you” is most familiar to me. I also really enjoy Dr. Leo Buscaglia’s interpretation of it.

"I honor the place in you where the entire universe resides. I honor the place in you, where lies your love, your light, your truth and your beauty. I honor the place in you, where...if you are in that place in you ... and I am in that place in me...then there is only one of us”

With the right instructor and the right attitude you really feel what those words mean. 

every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end

Anyone else flash back to sixth grade just now?  Because I did when my yoga instructor quoted Semisonic during class today. 

New beginnings.  Yup, working on them 

there is a deep hole

The instructor read this to us today when we were preparing for the class.  I don’t think it needs any more from me. 

Chapter one

I walk down a street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.  I fall in.  I am lost.  I am helpless.  It isn’t my fault.  It takes me forever to find a way out. 

Chapter two

I walk down the street.  There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.  I pretend that I don’t see it.  I fall in again.  I can’t believe I am in this place again.  But it isn’t my fault. 

Chapter three

I walk down the same street.  There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.  I see it is there. I still fall in. It is a habit but my eyes are open. I know where I am.  It is my fault. I get out immediately. 

Chapter four

I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I walk around it.

Chapter five

I walk down another street.  

apparently now I blog too.

A lot has changed in the past few weeks.  Change I was not prepared for. Maybe I should have been prepared. I feel like it was a long time coming but I was doing my best to avoid it and doing a very good job at that.  

Before we go there, lets go back a little bit.  At the very beginning of the semester I started working out everyday.  Its pretty appalling to me that in the school of public health, people's personal health is a disaster.  13 hour days at school leave very little time and energy left for exercise and healthy meal preparation.  We are certainly not practicing what we preach and I was set on changing that.  So I hit the gym every morning.  During one of the first few days I went to a yoga class.  Best yoga class ever.  The instructor was incredible.  Words cannot describe what I felt during that class.  And as I laid in savasana, Iron and Wine playing in the background, and a smile on my face,  I vowed that I'd keep feeling this way.  Well, that didn't happen.  Surprise of all surprises, the semester got busy, stayed busy, and I let it slip away.  

Jump forward and there, in the heart of finals and group project hell, I ended a relationship.  As if I didn't have enough to do, now there were wedding plans to cancel and belongings to divvy up.  Ultimately I feel fantastic about the decision. It was something I should have done a long time ago and while the timing wasn't ideal, I instantly felt relief.  

Still, after a hard semester, academically and personally, I needed to heal a little bit.  And as I was sitting in those hours of terrible group meetings, just wanting to be anywhere else, I kept thinking back to that Iron and Wine filled, glorious savasana months earlier.  I wanted that again.  

Classes are winding down and I need to do something for me.  I haven't done a single thing for myself in many many months and thats just not ok.  So here we go.  Yoga.  I leave the country in 30 days.  I will be gone for 80. I've spared most of my family and friends any details on the breakup.  Partly because there's not a whole lot to tell. Partly because I think people expect you to be sad after a breakup and I'm not all that sad.  Maybe that sounds cruel, or maybe that means it was the right thing to do.  Either way, if I haven't spilled to friends or fam about the breakup, I'm certainly not going to bore them with this yoga stuff either.  Enter the interweb.