Recycled teenager

This morning, I had the distinct pleasure (note the tinge of sarcasm) of volunteering at my son's middle school to help with Spring Picture Day. While I outwardly claim NOT to like other people's children, most middle school kids really are perfectly tolerable for short periods of time. OK, I'll be honest and confess that I've always been pleasantly surprised when I've volunteered for things at school before, and I was pleasantly surprised today as well. On the whole, the students were respectful and well behaved, and although many of them are really tall, I managed to be taller than most, which made me feel better (I was the shortest kid in my class until eighth grade, so I'm sensitive about such things...)
At one point in the morning, a student referred to her teacher, a woman in her 40s, as a "recycled teenager." Presumably, this was to have been a compliment.
Ugh.
I don't know that I could do the whole teenage year thing over again. In fact, it's one strong vote from me AGAINST the concept of reincarnation. I'd rather take my one life, thank you very much, rather than having to go through middle school and high school again. The awkwardness, the uncertainty, the hormones--it's a lot to go through, all at the same time figuring out your future path. And things are tougher for kids now. By middle school, choices you make about electives can have a strong bearing on high school and college options down the road. It's imperative to belong to at least one extracurricular club or activity, and not only do kids have to worry about grades, now they have this ridiculous "No Child Left Behind" junk to work through with countless standardized tests. Teachers are more stressed, creativity is put on the back burner in order to crank up those test scores. What are we doing to our kids!?!?!
But again, at the end of the day, humans are resilient, and many children are thriving under the pressure. But would I want to be a recycled teenager? Not on your life!

Self-care

Oh, boy. Today I go to the dentist.

I have no reference to back this up, but I once was told or perhaps I read that dentists have a much higher incidence of depression than other health professionals. From my own attitude, I suppose I can see why. When was the last time you talked with someone who was EXCITED to go to the dentist? Even if you're in pain and you know that the dentist will make that pain go away, excitement and dentistry? They don't seem to go together very well. I'm just going in for a checkup, but I'm always afraid that something will show up, some little spot that I can't see or feel but that the dentist will notice, one for which I'll receive the stern warning, "If we don't fill it soon, it'll turn into something MUCH WORSE!"

Now, to clarify, in the course of my life, I have been fortunate to have been seen by a legion of really wonderful, bright, charming, and quite interesting dentists. It has to sometimes feel like a thankless job, but it's a job that not only saves our teeth, but can also save our life, as there seems to be a strong connection between poor dental hygiene and cardiovascular disease. So please don't think I'm down on dentistry, because I'm not. I do see how imporant good oral care is to our overall health, but I just don't enjoy going to the dentist. It's a high-class problem, to be sure.

Three times in my adult life, I've gone great periods of time without seeing a dental professional. The last time was after we moved, and it was about three years between visits--I know, I know, that's not good, I realize that, but it is what it is. When I finally did find a good recommendation for a compassionate dentist, the first words out of my mouth when I made the appointment were, "Don't give me a lecture. I know what I should have been doing, but we can't go back in time and correct for that, so let's just move forward, shall we?" to which the very nice person on the line responded, "We're just happy you're making an appointment now."

Wasn't that a nice way of dealing with a reluctant patient? Not once in my visits (and, yes, there were several to make up for lost time and lost enamel) did anyone lecture me about my lapse in self-care. It had happened, but there I was, making it right.

And really, when it comes to taking care of ourselves, although we make a big deal about how important it is to exercise, eat well, stretch, strengthen, moisturize, sunscreen, floss, attend to our bodies over the long haul, what really matters, what we really can control, is today, right now. Sure, you might feel better today if you'd done a better job avoiding the fried foods over the past decade, but if you forego the fried fish for a broiled selection this evening, then you've made a positive step. And those are the kinds of steps we can make on a regular basis to do something good for ourselves. Dwelling on the past does nothing but make us feel inept. Dwelling on the "now" works. The decision you make in the next ten minutes is one you've got a handle on. You can't undo what you did yesterday or last year, but now? Yeah, you've got some control.



Do your best and then forgive yourself when you don't. Each day is full of new opportunities. As we approach our extra day this February 29th, make a committment to do something special on that day that furthers your work toward taking care of yourself. You're worth it.

A little bit juvenile...

OK, I'm going to step back in time now to my youth, and it's not all that pretty.
I was a skinny, short (until eighth grade) kid with NO, and I mean this in all sincerity, NO hand-eye coordination, which at a school with only basketball and softball as sports I could choose, left me no alternative except to stay at home. I had size 10 feet long before I had much height, so I looked like I was wearing clown shoes. At a piano recital when I was about 11, a girl asked if I was wearing my mother's shoes. Charming.
I remember the painful expectation of gym class, when I knew I'd either be the last to be picked or the second-to-the-last for teams. Everyone knew that I wasn't fast, wasn't coordinated, and to be honest, I really had long-stopped caring. It was obvious that I wasn't an athlete, and there was no need even trying anymore. At this stage, after giving cheerleading a disastrous try--hey, we all have our moments--I'd decided to be as aloof as possible to protect myself from emotional injury, a bad habit I'm still trying to break.
The images we develop of ourselves as children really have staying power, don't they? I've been an adult a lot longer than I was a child, and yet I still haven't truly bought into the idea that I'm an athlete, and frankly, not a half-bad one. This triathlon (in which I did a remarkably decent time) really has reminded me of how far I've come in my self-perception and how far I have to go. I shouldn't have to garner praise for my physical prowess, but when I do, it feeds this part of me that is still quite undernourished. This is not the first physical challenge I've undertaken (and no, I don't think this little triathlon is something outstanding, but it's the idea of it) and done relatively well in, but I'm so incredibly excited about the little medal I won and my t-shirt that I will wear with pride, just like I've worn my first (and ONLY!!!) 10K race t-shirt until it's nearly transparent from washings.
Maybe this is why I enjoy teaching exercise so much. I know what it feels like to be told I'm a loser at anything athletic. I have been the last to be picked for the team over and over again. I understand the shame when once again I've tripped or dropped the ball. And the scars are still forming from that, which is more a testament to how seriously, deep down inside me I wanted to be a jock than to the merit of the jeers and rolled eyes of my classmates when I'd failed once again.
I like to teach exercise because it matters. I want to make everyone in my classes feel that they ARE successful in their own rights, no matter what anybody else in the room is doing. I want my students to know what it feels like to challenge themselves to something they think might be impossible, and then push through the barriers and finish it. I want to create this army of strong, healthy, powerful people who can go out into the world and show that you don't have to be the strongEST or fastEST in the room to be a force to be reckoned with.
So this little triathlon has done more than just made me confident in my physical abilities, it's reminded me of why I do what I do. I do it for the skinny, pimply kid in gym class who will grow up one day and have to decide for himself just what kind of a physical being he will be. I do it for that little girl in dance class who is always a step behind but feels that deep down inside her lives a dancer. I do it because when you feel powerful, you are better equipped at helping others to feel powerful, too.
And that counts for something.

I did it!

It was weird, much more mental than physical which is what I'd imagined. I got in the pool, felt good, had eaten the proper amount, body felt pretty good (I taught the 5:45 bike class this morning and helped move tables, so I had been nervous that I would feel tired going in). I did my first lap, felt STRONG, you know, like you're really on your game, and then something happened. I panicked, or my breath got off-rhythm, I don't know, but I just felt so stupid. So, as I had reminded those in my bike class who were planning on doing the triathlon, I reminded myself that it didn't matter HOW I did it, I just had to swim six laps. So, I flipped over on my back, and backstroked, breathing like I was sprinting, but able to breathe better than doing the head turn thing in the water. Thank God I have a really strong backstroke to make up for the putzing around I did when I freaked out.
Of course, having panicked and not paying attention, I SLAMMED my head into the side of the pool at the end of that particular lap, which shook me, but I kept going on, backstoking, and finished faster than I'd timed myself the other day doing the crawl, so maybe it was good not to have been rigid and force myself to stay with the crawl.
Then the bike was fine, and although that's the thing that I worked the hardest on (my heart rate was in the stratosphere the whole time, which I've not done in a while), it was the most natural, and my time for 12. 4 miles was better than I'd planned for.
Then the run. I don't care that we've evolved into upright creatures, I still question running on these two legs. Running is so hard for me, and I'd been running on the treadmill for what seemed like forever, looked down, and I'd gone half a mile. How discouraging! So I took a towel, covered up the numbers on the screen, and counted songs on my MP3 player. Then I played games with myself, "I'll look at my distance when it's been five minutes on the wall clock," or "I'll look when this song ends." I had a general idea of how fast I'd be, because of the speed I'd set, but I didn't want to watch the seconds go by one by one by one. I knew I'd give up. About a mile in, my shins were miserable, I felt like my feet were flopping, and although I wasn't really breathing all that hard, I was getting really tired. But I kept playing games, blocks of time on the wall clock and counting songs, and when I permitted myself to look at the distance again, it was 2.9 miles! I only had 2 tenths of a mile to go, so I cranked up the speed and made it.
In the middle of this process, I was NOT having a good time, but I am so very glad I did it. Right now, I don't want to do another tri, but I have a feeling that I will after I get rested for this one. It is nice to push yourself sometimes. As I heard in a song this morning, you need to do one thing every day that SCARES YOU. I definitely did my "thing" today.

Today's the day...

I'm off to help move tables, after having taught a bike class a couple of hours ago, and at 11:00 I'll be in the pool beginning my first triathlon. Yikes!
Maybe I'll do a few push-ups now...
Not.
I'm most afraid of my brain talking me out of pushing harder. No fear of the pool--what a change since last summer--a healthy respect for the bike, real dread at the run. Downloaded a few new tunes this morning to the MP3, and I've got my bag packed.
Here we go...

A word to the wise...

Teaching a dinner-time yoga class can be a challenge when you've not eaten anything since lunch. Knowing this, I do my best to schedule a snack mid-afternoon so that as I'm fixing dinner for the family I'm not tempted to eat a full dinner before I lead a class through an hour of asana. The general rule of thumb is to practice on an empty stomach, but I'm a realist, and I get hungry, so I do eat about an hour before class, just something simple.
Last night, I prepared a fabulous panko-encrusted chicken breast, a lemon-mushroom sauce (very light and delicious) and steamed cauliflower.
I am not a big fan of cauliflower. I just don't get it. It's white, for pity sake, so how much nutrition can it have? But, I know there is fiber in there, and the rest of the fam likes it, so I steamed a batch to go with the chicken. Steamed, no butter, no salt, no cheese, just steamed.
I had taken a bite of the chicken, so I had a little protein in me (very little seasoning on it), and I decided to try a piece of the cauliflower. A piece. About an inch in length. Just a little floret. No butter, no salt, no cheese, just a piece of the steamed cauliflower.
Now I know better.
From the first forward-fold through savasana, my esophagus was burning like I'd been drinking battery acid, and I very rarely have any heartburn, even after extremely spicy food. What was the deal?!? It had to have been the cauliflower, that little anemic floret.
Never again. I've learned yet another lesson: no cruciferous vegetables before yoga.
And now I can, with full confidence, refuse offers of cauliflower in future. I have never liked it, it's not necessary for my health, and it doesn't like me very much when I stand on my head.
So there.

Join the club

This morning, continuing to encourage my students to join me in the in-Y triathlon I'm running next week, I spoke of how important it was to just try and finish the thing, and not worry about time. We laughed, because one participant in the class, a woman in her 60s who is fit and strong and a wonderful role model, said that she was planning on bringing lunch! (she'll start in the early morning, and this is a sprint-distance triathlon) We all laughed, because of course it won't take her that long, but she knows her body and her limitations and strengths and she's willing to do the triathlon just for the sake of doing and completing it. And, really, that's what I'm doing as well.
I know that my swimming is average at best (I timed myself this morning and surprised myself at how fast I was, but this is compared to how I was last August when I began my swimming adventure--I'm not fast compared to anyone else in the pool, I can tell you), my cycling should be adequate (when I was on the road a lot, I could hammer with the best of them, but now I'm above-average more than likely, nothing stellar), but the running. Ugh. My foot, my knees--I acknowledge that I will be in pain following the thing, but the worst thing that can happen is that I have to stop running and go to a walk, and there's nothing in the world wrong with that.
So here I am, preparing to enter an athletic event that I have no hope of doing particularly well in, and I'm thrilled. I just want to do the distance. I've always admired people, especially non-studly people, for entering and completing triathlons. This is a club in which I've craved membership.
And the swimming--rather than being the thing that scares me, I know I can do it. And last year, I wouldn't have said that. So if nothing else, this race is a celebration of the blood, sweat, and tears I put into swimming last year. A week from now at this time, I should be finishing up, I hope, or nearly finishing. Wow.

What's the deal?

OK, today it's a two-post day.
I just came back from running an errand, and once again was faced with the curse of the absent turn signal. That's right, the condition that overtakes 90% of the people in this town when they're about to make a left (or right, although that's less bothersome) turn. The offender approaches the intersection, the light is red, and they sit quietly in their lane UNTIL the light changes, when that turn signal finally comes on. It's as if they're not quite sure which way they're going until that light turns to green, and then I guess they take it as a "green light" to finally make up their minds!
This wouldn't bother me except for the fact that if there is a right lane I can enter, I'm not inconvenienced at all by the left-turning car ahead of me. If I don't see a signal, I can't know if the car in front of me is turning, and I can't make an educated decision about which lane to choose.
Maybe this is picky, but it's one of those really annoying things that I'd not encountered on such a massive scale until we moved here. An acquaintance of mine is a driver's ed instructor, and I mentioned this to him one day, and he said, "Well, I try, but it's the parents and their driving habits that the kids copy."
So there. As parents, can't we lead by example on this one?
It's the same on the interstate. As I remember from my own driver's ed (which was a looooong time ago), it is imperative to use the turn signal when changing lanes. It takes no effort, and it's helpful and courteous to the drivers around you to use a signal when you're making a lane shift. But nooooooo, that's too much trouble.
Just like it's apparently too much trouble to roll your shopping cart back to the cart corral, but that's another post......
My point is this. The world has enough problems as it is without us being discourteous and charmless to our fellow humans. Saying "please" and "thank you," using turn signals, smiling at strangers--simple things that go a long way toward putting your fellow humans in a decent frame of mind. Just think if we all worked on being more pleasant and charming. Small thing? Perhaps, but I'm not so sure...

What a difference a day makes!

You know, I think I really do believe in biorhythms, you know, the natural cyclical nature of our inner workings. My Aunt Kitty, who was one of the loveliest and most evolved people I've ever had the pleasure of knowing, once gave me a formula for figuring out what are good and not-so-good days in our lives. I think I know where that formula is, and everytime I've pulled it out and done the math I've looked back and it's been a fairly accurate calendar of what turned out to be effective days as well as I'd-sooner-forget-them days. Hormones, the phase of the moon, who knows, but there does seem to be a pattern in our lives that leads us to feel more powerful some days and more vulnerable others.
Anyway, today I feel much more pulled together. I think teaching class yesterday was part of it, the privilege of leading my students through asanas and through a bike ride. So much fun, and such a kick. I couldn't ask for a better group of folks.
I also think that last night's perfect sleep is a big factor in how I feel today. I slept all the way through to my alarm--at 5:00am--with only one memorable dream, one of driving a car on ice and slipping around, just barely missing other cars and coming to a stop in front of a giant (13') television in the middle of the road. Go figure.
I've recently switched from swimming to lifting weights again. The swimming was my personal challenge, as I've (from the age of 12) been deathly nervous in the water. I really struggled with that, and for the first two months of lap swimming in the early hours of the day on Tuesday and Thursday, I would swim a lap, stop and catch my breath, and do it again, over and over. I would do this for 45 minutes, and exit the pool exhausted, hiccupping, and miserable. And then suddenly one day I "got it" and from that point on was able to swim continuously for the whole 45 minutes. It was miraculous! The problem with it was that I was losing muscle mass by not lifting weights, so I'm back in the gym again. I do so much exercise you'd think it wouldn't matter, but apparently I've trained my body to demand a high level of activity in order to function well, so I listen. There is really something quite cool about moving steel plates and dumbbells. It's empowering in a real, physical way. What a thrill to be able to deal with physical challenges when they arise.

One of those days...

This has just been a blah sort of day. Nothing really wrong, but I don't have any energy and I feel like curling up into a tiny little ball and sleeping for about a week. Mondays are hard, waking at 5:00am and teaching four classes, but this is different. Part of the problem is last night's fractured sleep--waking up every hour. But also, I'm at an impasse with a couple of projects and life choices, and when I get to a fork in the road, sometimes my best coping mechanism is to shut down for a day or so.
Decisions are hard, and change is hard. I need to make a change at work and I'm having a hard time gathering up enough chutzpah to do it. I also need to GO BACK TO SCHOOL and seem paralyzed at the thought of it.
High-class problems, to be sure.
It's amazing what a bad night's sleep can to do you.
One thing good today was that at 6:30 this morning I signed up for the triathlon! I'm a little nervous, but I'll make it through. It'll be nice to have a challenge that I can conquer in just one day.
Unless I'm even slower than I think I'll be...

Triathlon!

I've recently given my X-Bike class (5:45am!!!) a challenge--to do 24 fitness activities in the month of February, as well as one fitness activity that is way out of character and out of the comfort zone.
As an instructor, I can lead by teaching a class, but I also need to lead by example, so this afternoon my husband and I took a very wiiiiiiiiiiindy walk together. We worked a little harder than usual, pushing through the wind, which was kind of fun. My hair looks like a bird's nest, but my bones and heart are happy!
For me, my own personal "outside the comfort zone" activity is going to be a sprint triathlon, especially set up within the Y where I teach X-Bike (pool swim, stationary bike ride, treadmill run). I've never done a triathlon, but know so many people who have, people who are normal and not uber-fit. My big achilles heel is my foo (not my achilles heel, though!), so the running is an issue. The swimming I've licked--for the past six months I've been swimming laps and actually have a three-stroke rhythm that seems to work pretty well. The biking, no problems there. But doing all three together? It'll definitely be a challenge. But the worst that can happen is that I'm miserable and sore the next day, and I like the soreness from exercise, and this will hopefully break yet another barrier I've built for myself, the wall between me and the triathlon.
Do we, the formerly awkward last-to-be-picked-for-the-team kids ever get over that image of ourselves as non-athletes? I keep wondering as I enter my 20th year of fitness instruction. I guess growing up doesn't stop until we stop caring.
I really never want to grow up.

Karmic Balance?

This doesn't have much to do with physical fitness, but with fiscal fitness and one's view of one's own fiscal fitness as it relates to the fiscal state of others.

I currently reside in an area where the vast majority of my associates are far better off financially than I am (at least on the surface, as some of them, no doubt, are living on credit and can't sleep at night for fear of the repo man coming and taking away their high-dollar cars and leased furniture and double-mortgaged McMansions). Now, I'm perfectly well off, with food in my belly, a bed in which to sleep, a car that works, a house that will eventually be paid for. But, as most of us have experienced, there is a certain comparison that goes on between friends and neighbors (whether that comparison regards the car we drive or the school our children attend), and as well-meaning as we may be, when one is holding the shorter stick most of the time, it can be a bit wearing.

First, let me say that no matter what my financial state, I know for a fact that money does not buy happiness. Some of the most miserable people I know have more money than they'll ever spend. And to clarify, I am blessed to be able to afford not only the basics, but thankfully, a few luxuries as well. My husband and I have chosen career paths that serve our souls over simply serving our bank accounts, and while we aren't rich in dollars, our hearts are full and our souls satisfied that we've made good choices. But, again, it is human nature to wonder "what if" when it comes to seeing neighbors travelling regularly to exotic locales and installing new flooring, shingles, and a garage re-do while sending their three children to private school. One wonders.

So, today I was having one of those moments, and on my way home, I stopped by the bank to make a deposit. (There's a clue for you, I was making a deposit, not a withdrawal). I pulled up the the ATM, and hanging out of the machine was the receipt from the last person to drive through. I entered my card, pin, etc, and pulled out the receipt so that mine would print. The receipt was for a withdrawal of $20 from the person's checking account. The remaining balance was $11.57. That was it. Now, maybe, as we are next door to a college town, this was a student's bank account, and Mom and Dad had a check in the mail or a money transfer in action as I sat there, but I thought, "Whoa! What if that was me? How would I feel if that was all I had left?"

When my own receipt printed, my checking balance was $11.57 plus exactly a standard sum, (no, I'm not telling what standard sum) leaving me with quite a bit more than the person whose receipt I was holding.

I believe the universe communicates with us as effectively as it can.

Exercise

Some people do it, some don't. Some are consistent, some aren't. What gives? What is the difference? This week I've been having the same conversation over and over with clients and friends, and I'm starting to believe that maybe one of the things I'm meant to work on this year is to try and answer this in a deliberate, thoughtful fashion.

What keeps us from exercising?

We know it's good for us, and for most of us, there is some form of exercise we find pleasant or at least not UNpleasant. Is there some basic difference in personality or character that makes one person focused and habitual in his exercise, while another simply wanders off and never laces a running shoe again? Is it nature or nurture? If we watched our parents take their evening walk after every dinner, are we more likely to pick up the habit? Is it genetics? Are some bodies more inclined to crave physical movement than others? It is socialization? If our buddies are swimming three times a week, do we feel more compelled to jump in the pool than we might if all of our buddies sat on the couch all day? Are people who exercise regularly more disciplined? And what does that mean, discipline of self? I know plenty of people who never shed a drop of sweat in an exercise class, but when you visit their house, you can eat off the floor, it's so sanitary. That's not undisciplined, keeping a house spotless, and it's certainly not lazy. What about the non-exerciser who runs a company, makes payroll every week, goes into the store on the weekend whenever there is a crisis. That person is certainly motivated, and no one could call her lazy.

Is it the difference between feeling successful and not feeling successful at exercising? There are certainly those among us who are faithful at working out and eating well, but still lack the ideal physique, and yet they keep on working. And of course there are those who are naturally gifted with lovely physiques but couldn't lift anything heavier than a purse if their lives depended on it.

I'm starting to believe, and this is after 20 years of doing this, that there truly (stop the presses) isn't one thing that makes the difference. I've known people who had parents who would rather have slit their wrists than go for a fitness walk who turn out to be marathoners. I've known children of athletes who you can't pry away from the computer. Some clients have had great support from their families when it came to squeezing in another workout, and others leave for their morning walks with kids and spouses yelling, "You're so selfish!"

It can't be something totally extrinsic, and yet determining the intrinsic seed of possibility that leads to an active lifestyle may be better left to the scientists in the lab than to me, basing my opinions on anectdotal evidence.

What I'm finding is there are certain things that do tend to hamstring us, tend to trip us up. These are things we can work on. Tomorrow I'll take some time and study this a bit further, but for now, it's time for dinner. A salad and salmon, applesauce for dessert. Yum!