The Story of a Runner Turned Yogi...

When I come to my yoga mat every morning I try to leave my expectations behind. This is a practice, a blending of breath with the flow of movement, not something to conquer or master or dominate but something to experience and embrace. It wasn't always that way and I'm not always successful at doing so. Yoga started off for me as a way to earn P.E. credits in college and later turned into a means to "force" myself to stretch when I became a runner. I sought out the more aggressive videos like power flow and later, P90X so that my yoga days would feel more like a workout than a time suck...I mean, can you really count 60 minutes of stretching to spa music as working out (especially when 5 of those minutes were laying on the ground in corpse pose doing nothing)?

My previous mentality...

 In my mid 30's I felt that I was no longer running for health benefits but more as a way to run away from life. I was disconnected from my body and mind, pushing myself into injuries and brushing it off as 'true dedication'..."See how committed I am?? I'm running with a torn hip flexor and fracture in my foot!!". After finally being forced to take 6 months off (via a cast) I found other forms of exercise to fill the void...boxing, cross fit, kettle bells, HIIT, P90X, Insanity, BodyRock, etc. before turning back to running. Yoga took a back seat again (actually, it got left behind at the rest stop). But the disconnect still persisted and I was faced with results that weren't fulfilling me mentally or physically.

I earned my orange headband completing Tough Mudder Norcal.

Crossing the finish line with my BFF Coleen at the Rock n' Roll San Diego Marathon.

 Although I do love the mental and physical aspects of the events I participated in like a full marathon and Tough Mudder, I also knew that these types of physically demanding challenges weren't something I aspired to maintain for the rest of my life (and yes, I am aware of the 100 year old man who completed the Toronto Marathon as well as the 80 year old man who has run 19 NYC Marathons). I'm no wimp, don't get me wrong...but I don't want to continue to dedicate the amount of time and effort into training for marathon after marathon for the next 40+ (God willing) years. My last marathon did a number on me...breaking down muscles and mentally challenging me during long and lonely 18+ mile training runs. While it was an overall positive experience which I am proud of, it's just not sustainable for me.

SIddha Yoga Ashram in Oakland...a turning point.

Over the past couple of years I've learned that yoga has so much more to offer than a limber body and a means to work out the kinks. A visit to an ashram in Oakland opened my eyes to the true meaning of yoga as well as the 7 other limbs to enlightenment...something I was in desperate need of at that point in my life. So, about a year ago (a little while after we officially hit the road as fulltime travelers) I stopped running and committed myself to practicing yoga almost exclusively. And this time my yoga practice would incorporate more than just asanas (although I am going to post pictures of some of these poses, because asana is one of the limbs).

Practicing pigeon pose on Glaveston Island, Texas

In that time I have felt a definite and positive shift in my health and mental well being. I've also not only maintained the muscle mass I had previously acquired but my aches and pains have diminished (specifically in my back, sciatic, hips and knees...some of which have troubled me since I was a teenager). My core has strengthened as well as my upper body and my balance has improved. But the biggest change has been more profound. I feel very connected to my body...its changes, its  needs, its sensitive areas and places of resistance.

Taking an amazing class in Contoocook New Hampshire...possibly my favorite class to date.

I also feel an interconnectedness with every thing around me...the wind, the trees, the water, the seasons...even people I encounter. Rather than jumping to harsh judgements I embrace that pause between seeing and completing a thought and instead, imagine the struggles they are going through...and even if they aren't struggling I can imagine the journey it has taken me to get to where I am physically and mentally and remember that no one can map out another person's journey nor can they force another to even embark on that journey.

Headstand in the Pocono Mountains

Yoga has provided me the peace and serenity that previously came only from a pill or the sheer exhaustion of over-training. I am not begrudging anyone who runs or boxes or finds enjoyment from intense physical activity as I still do enjoy riding my bike, hiking and kayaking when I can...I even ran a 5k distance last month and felt exhilarated. I also still have some big dreams and goals, perhaps to climb a mountain or learn to surf. But for me, yoga has provided the missing element of joining body, mind and spirit (with the side benefit of maintaining or even improving my fitness).

Morning self practice in Pennsylvania

Some days I leave my mat in tears from emotions which have been stirred from syncing my breath and movement with an open minded willingness to to just be...to just feel...to listen to my needs. Some days I leave my mat with so much energy that I ride my bike or go for a hike or clean the entire RV or even add an additional round of practice complete with arm balances and handstands. And some days I leave my mat content, even happy...a feeling that continues throughout the day and spills over onto the people around me.But I never leave my mat with regret for having taken the time to breath and connect with something deeper than myself, for having taken time for myself I have found the link to every thing around me.



 

Nothing the See Here...Move Along {via the Past}...

Out in the middle of nowhere {okay, it was Coulterville, California~population 201} somewhere during the first few weeks of our grand RV escape, longing for a TV to watch Giants Baseball or even a little NFL, desperate for free wi-fi {who am I kidding, we would have PAID for it} we headed to the nearest town and parked next to this truck.

 

 

There were names of soldiers, some POW but mostly KIA, covering nearly every inch of this truck. Very somber to say the least. However, what I saw, right outside of our Jeep's passenger window, where I sat when we pulled next to this truck, literally took my breath away.

 

 

PFC. Rachel Bosveld was my sister-in-law (my sister is married to her brother) and I was shocked to not only find her name on this truck, thousands of miles from her home state of Wisconsin, but that her name was one of the first I saw. Tears instantly filled my eyes. Rachel was killed during a mortar attack on the Abu Ghraib Police Station in Iraq. She was just 19 years old. She and I did the music for our siblings' wedding in Alaska just 2 years earlier.

Rachel

It was such a surreal moment, seeing her name on that truck, one that still twists my gut and dampens my eyes. It makes me wonder what it's all about...this life. Sometimes we think we have so much time that we put things off or take them for granted...always promising (if even just to ourselves) that we will get around to doing {fill in the blank} another day. But we are not promised another day.

Emerald Pool above Vernal Falls rests on a solid sheet of polished granite.

Hiking through Yosemite this past week, feeling overwhelmed by the smallness of our existence while walking across a gigantic slab of granite polished by a glacier some 100 million years ago, I had moments of clarity...that in the grand scheme of things probably 90% of what occupies my mind {worry, fear, longing, blame, past hurts, resentment, regrets, etc.) add no benefit to my life. Not only that, but these thoughts are robbing me of my present life.

I lost count of the number of stairs we climbed up to the top of the falls...but they almost broke us, however our spirit (and ego) pushed us forward.

Our second day in Yosemite, Clark and I climbed to the top of Vernal Falls via the Mist Trail. It's about 1.5 miles one way but has a 1000 foot gain as well. I had misread the guide and was under the impression this was marked an "easy" hike. It was far from easy and at one point we contemplated quitting and turning back. However, once we completed the climb and the equally, if not more, gruelling decent the pain and suffering seemed to evaporate as we celebrated our accomplishment.

A little toast to surviving the hike at Camp Curry.

But that's the key, in a sense...to release the pain so we can relish in our ability at having overcome the obstacle. Whether that pain is from something our parents did (or didn't do), something hurtful some guy said to us years ago, some misunderstanding we had with a friend or co-worker that got so blown out of proportion that our Ego won't 'let' us forgive or forget, a test we failed (or class for that matter), a relationship that didn't work (perhaps from our own indiscretions)...whatever the obstacle or challenge that we have had to deal with and lived through demands our celebration.

zensationalliving.com

At some point, after the pity party (which is hopefully short lived) and mourning, we need to let go so we can continue to live in the moment. The past has nothing to offer except the lessons we've already learned...and we need to rehash those about as much as we need to keep tracing our letters in cursive and practising our multiplication tables over and over {ahem, in other words it's time to move on}.

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Rachel was 19 when she died thousands of miles from home...almost 9 years ago to the day. As I sit here at my comfortable desk, sipping a lovely Petite Syrah, watching the San Francisco Giant clench their spot in the World Series I wonder what her life was like, and what would/could have been. I wonder if she had the chance to love someone with all of her heart, if she stopped and enjoyed the warmth of the sun on her face or laughed when she got caught in a sudden downpour. I hope so...I hope she enjoyed every moment she was given, even the hard ones...and I hope you do too.