Balance: Yoga-to-find-it

They say that sometimes in life the universe sends you exactly what you need.   So it was with me as I started last week wondering what my next 43 Project challenge should be.  I was at a bit of a loss as I watched the warm temperatures melt away all of the snow and evaporate my plans for investigating more winter sports.  Although I was discouraged, in this singular instance, it would appear that global warming was actually my friend.  As it happened, without even considering a new challenge, I was having trouble keeping up with the rigorous schedule of core activities I had set for myself.

My dip in performance had become painfully clear over the previous week.  I had run (slowly), I had skated (wobbly), I had gone to spinning (panting like a dog), I had worked out (stiff and sore) and I had horseback rode (legs numb). I was experiencing a general feeling of fatigue and what was more bothersome was that last Tuesday I had started to seize up. 

“Have you been stretching after all these things you are doing?” Matt, my trainer, asked me in the way he does when I am about to get in trouble.

“No,” I replied, trying not to make eye contact.  “I don’t have time and most of the time I am too tired when I am done.”

“Look at me Mary. It’s very simple,” he said with emphasis. “Stretch or stop doing what you are doing. You are doing too much. You aren’t strong enough to keep this pace.  We can’t work out today in the shape you are in.   We’ll stretch together and then you go home and rest.” 

I had been told.                                                                                                                                  

Even after stretching, I hobbled home with a charlie horse in the back of my left quad. For the rest of the week, other than horseback riding, I focused on icing my aches and pains and stretching.

I have never been one that takes direct orders well, but in this instance, as I squirmed in pain while I applied the acupressure ball to my triceps, quads and calves and winced and swore while I used the foam roller on my glutes and hamstrings, I could see that Matt might have a point.    

Saturday morning, as I iced and stretched while watching TV, I decided that much as it pained me to admit it, I was out of balance and I need to get a new strategy.  What’s more, if I was going to carry on with the 43 Project, I was going to have to let something drop.  It seems I hadn't quite been true to the spirit of the project which was to try new things and move on.  While I had been letting some things go, I had been collecting other things and adding them into my regular routine.   I needed to let something drop, at least temporarily, and include some more time for stretching and resting. 

After a great deal of soul searching, I decided that all I really want to, do as core activities, is to ride horses and my bike.  Since I need to train to get the muscle to support those things I know I need to keep working with Matt.  I could, however, do without the constant trips to the chiropractor with aches and pains related to running.   Although it felt a bit like giving up, I decided that, at least for the moment, I was going to have to  do something kind for my body and stretch it out by trading running for yoga.    

The next day, I grabbed my mat and headed for the gym. This was not my first yoga session.  But I was my first in about a year.   As I we started cross-legged at the beginning of class, I remembered what it was like two years earlier when I returned to the gym after a 10 year hiatus from exercise and chose yoga as my first activity.  I remember my first downward dog.  I couldn't hold it for more than three seconds.  Now, I could move through the sun salutation without stopping.   As we went through the poses, I noticed, that somewhat ironically, with all the core work I had been doing, my balance was better. For the first time, I think I began to realize how far I had really come in such a short period.

It was a good session.   I mean really, anything that ends with five minutes of lying on the floor thinking about nothing is a pretty good deal….but it in so many ways it was just what the doctor ordered.   As I walked back to my place I felt that strange yoga paradox of energized and relaxed.  The morning rain had stopped and there was a fog a rising off the sidewalks and the street. The temperature was starting to drop and I could see that we were headed back into winter. I started again to think about new challenges and as I rounded the corner at the top of the hill, I smiled to myself as heard my heart say....Game on.


Never quit,

Mary

Blue Suede Skates

“I’d like to buy a pair of figure skates.” 

The sales girl looks me up and down with a mixture of contempt and disgust.  Her eyes land on my feet.  She just looks at them like she’s never seen anything quite like them before in her life.  I look down; my winter horseback riding boots are covered in dust from the ring and have salt splatters all over them.  At her request I take them off and get measured.  

“We don’t have your size in women’s skates.”   She says looking, relieved that I’ll be leaving soon.

“I know that,” I snap…I am irritated.  “I have always worn men’s figure skates.  Those come in my size.”  She looks at me like I am crazy and goes away to consult with someone  in the back. 

I know I shouldn't be rude, but it’s Friday night and I have gone far out of my way to seek out this specialty store.   I just want to get the kind of skates I learned with…you know “girls’ skates,” the ones with the picks on the front.  After a 25 year hiatus I am going to skate again and I don't need any added variables like a new style of blades.

The sales girl returns.  “We will have to do a special order.  It takes a week and they will cost $210.00.” 

I exhale.  The 43 Project is expensive. 

“I’ll think about it and let you know.”

Dejected I start walking back to the subway.  On the way, I encounter a used sporting goods store.

“O.K. maybe it really is  time I considered learning to skate on hockey skates. I can a deal on them here.”  I say to myself and walk in.

Once inside I scan the huge wall of used skates. It’s about 30 feet long with racks that go 10 feet high.  I am overwhelmed.  All the sales people are busy and I don’t know where to start. So I decide to walk the length of the wall.  It runs from hockey to figure skating.  Right at the transition point between the two disciplines, a pair of figure skates grabs my attention.  How could they not…they are blue suede and there’s a bright purple sticker that says size 12.

They are the craziest things I’ve ever seen.  I take them down.  I put them on.  They are a little too big, but I think with an insole and extra socks they just might do.  I look at the price tag…$34.99.  Sold. 

I text Marla and we make arrangement to go to skating on Sunday.  

Sunday rolls around and we head over to the local skating rink.  We decide to go early to avoid all the hot shot kids.  I used to be one those.  As I lace up the blue suede skates I am wondering if I have lost my skating mojo. 

I stand up on the rubber mat and look at the bad ice between the rubber and the rink.  “How am I going to get over that?” I ask myself.   For the first time in my skating history, I feel fear.   It seems like a very long 25 years from this moment to my last in skates.  I am also thinking about how I don’t bounce like I used to. 

With a big breath and long stride I step over the bad ice and onto the rink.  I am wobbly.  I move slowly forward doing a sort of monster walk.  I suddenly remember to bend my knees and the gliding motion starts coming back to me.  I manage to make it to the far boards.   I am trembling.  Still on my feet, Marla offers me words of encouragement.   We continue to skate.   

About 25 laps of the rink later I am still upright and elated.  I’ve been saying I am going to get 
back to skating for at least 10 years now.  I can’t believe I have finally done it.  It wasn't pretty and  there will be no backwards skating or cross cuts for a long time yet...but there will still be some good winter fun. 

I get home and wipe down the blades of the blue suede skates.   I wonder to myself where I should store them.  It's a fleeting thought.  Doesn't seem much point in thinking to hard about it.  I set them beside my riding boots and running shoes.  It feels like a waste of effort to put away something I going to be using next weekend.

Never quit

Mary

Coming up:  More winter fun 

When Getting Through the Holidays is Challenge Enough

“When do you want to run this week? Does Wednesday work?”

It’s Sunday morning and Marla and I are sitting on our bikes waiting for Spin class to begin.  

“Yes…oh wait…no…my online grocery order is coming on Wednesday morning.”

“You’re getting online groceries?”  She looks at me a little quizzically.  

“Yes, my Mom’s coming Wednesday night and I have no food in the house, I have to work after I pick her up and I don’t get paid until Tuesday at midnight.”

My beautiful tree
Decorated by an army of five nieces and nephews
They are my Christmas joy.

Ahh the holidays. A minefield of physical and mental challenges. Never is the tension between light and dark so pronounced on so many levels. 

First the literal. You wake up in the morning and it’s dark, and when you get home at night it’s still dark. Heaven help you if you don't have a window seat at work. Even the cheery Christmas lights struggle to illuminate this heavy backdrop for the season of joy. 

Then on the figurative level with the inevitable pressure to be extra happy.   I’ve been struggling with this one for about 20 years now.  I am 100 times better than I was, but it doesn’t seem to matter how hard I try or how much therapy I pay for,  I still miss my Dad at Christmas and I still cringe a little at midnight on New Year’s Eve when I don’t have a date and it’s the kissing moment. 

Finally, there's the battle between healthy living and the season of parties.  Those of you who know me, know that even without the aforementioned factors to escape from, I appreciate a good party.  Thus arises another tension, the desire to indulge my true nature and stay out late, drink lots, eat cheese and wheat and then blame it all on the anticipation of Santa Claus and wrap it up with a bow by calling it a remedy for the holiday blues. 

Me and my Dad.  1973

The older I get and the more people I talk to, the more I realize that I am not alone. By the time many of us reach middle age, we know that some sadness in life is a simple fact. No matter how much we roll our eyes and wish things were different, we shouldn’t be surprised when the holidays are fuelled by the tension between factors like money, emotion, food and the lack of time.

So how do we make the best of it? How do we cope? How do week keep our fitness goals on track?

I've read quite a few articles on this from the experts.  All of them call for restraint and adoption of strategies.  Most of the strategies they suggest are good ideas in theory, but they don't take into account the competing tensions of the season and seem to require super powers of self-denial that in my flawed humanity...even after all I have accomplished...I just don't have.

So this year, I have decided to create a few survival strategies of my own. Hopefully being realistic and accepting  a few simple truths will make the next few weeks a little easier. 

Truth:  I will sometimes be sad. 

Strategy: See grief for what it is…evidence of love.  

Truth:  I may find myself throwing a couple of pity parties about everything including my lack off and need for self restraint.

Strategy:  Get over myself.  I have the best friends a girl could ever ask for and I’ve worked really hard and achieved great fitness and lifestyle goals over the last few years.  I have gotten past bigger challenges than these next two weeks and I have the next six months of the 43 Project to plan.

Truth: In the case of certain parties, I won’t be home before midnight, I will drink and even if I eat before I leave home, I will get hungry. I may eat cheese.

Strategy:  Ok…it happened.   I had tonnes of fun.  I won’t use it as an excuse to go buck wild for the next two weeks.   Practise self forgiveness. 

Truth:  I stayed out late and I don’t feel like training today.  

Strategy:  Look at my training schedule and try and give myself a rest day on the day after a party.  That said, I need to pick my parties, I can’t do this for all of them.  I am training for the 5km Resolution Run on the 30^th of December.  Maybe I can occasionally consider making an adult decision and get home at a reasonable hour.

Truth:  There's a lot of fun stuff happening over the next couple of weeks.

Strategy: Stop thinking so much.  Enjoy the moment. 

So with my online grocery order busting out of my fridge and my holiday plan in place, I wanted to take this opportunity to thank you all for your support over the last six months. Your notes, our conversations and your posts on my blog page have meant the world to me and have kept me going.  My heartfelt best wishes, prayers and blessings for the holidays and the New Year go out to you and your family.  xo.    See you in 2013.

Never quit,

Mary

I will not be blogging next week, but will be back again clogging up your inbox and Facebook newsfeeds on January 2^nd

Horsing Around with Lucky Number Seven

I walk slowly, very slowly, from the GoTrain towards the stable. 

 “You can do this” I tell myself.  In fact, I really want to do it…I just wish all of my leg muscles weren't screaming in unison.   Today is my second consecutive horseback riding lesson.  Since riding Sky six weeks back, I have been obsessed.  For the last three weeks I have been riding once a week.   This is my absolute favourite thing to do. 

I get up to the Horse Palace and open the huge front door.  As I pass through, I’m like a character in a children’s novel that crosses the threshold from one world into another.  I become a kid again, a young girl that’s in love with magical creatures.  


I walk on and breathe in that horse stable smell.  I pass by one of the grey kittens, not sure if it’s Charles or Owen, playing with something.  He stops what he’s doing, his eyes narrow, he watches me as I go by.   I find Seven, my horse for today’s lesson.  

A chestnut Belgian Cross mare with a white blaze in the shape of the number seven, she has become my friend over the last three weeks.  I greet her and look in into her great brown eyes.  She puts her head down and tries to find treats in my pocket.

After brushing her auburn coat and combing her blond mane, I put on her saddle.  I struggle a bit.  She’s not happy with me when I put the girth on her.  She lets me know.   Later, when the instructor tells me that I have put it on backwards, I think back and wonder if at that moment, she was trying to tell me I was doing it wrong.   Horses and I are still learning to communicate.

Finally it’s time to put on the bridle.  Like a royal princess bestowing an act of kindness on a peasant, she lowers her majestic head for me.   I feel privileged that this regal beast has agreed to let me ride her.  

The clock indicates the top of the hour. I enter the ring.  Once inside I meet Faith, my instructor for today.  I mount up. Seven and I walk around the ring.  Then we trot.  My legs are taking a while to get warmed up. They ache like crazy but I want to succeed at this more than anything I have tried thus far.  I push through and keep going.  Finally the blood starts circulating.

For the next hour we work on developing strength and balance in the way I ride.  We work on communicating with the horse. We work on my confidence and we even work on the two point position-- the position riders take as the horse jumps. It requires leg, core and glute strength.   This is a tough one for me.  To get past myself, I try and imagine Matt, my trainer, yelling at me.  “Come on Mary, squeeze your butt, squeeze your quads, suck in your gut--squeeze everything.”   And after a few unsuccessful attempts I suddenly I hear Faith, not Matt, with her English accent, saying, “that’s it Mary, you’ve got it. 

I exhale.

As our lesson comes to a close I come into the centre of the ring.  I pull Seven to a halt and dismount.  I am so tired that my legs nearly buckle underneath me, but I make it out of the ring and deal with Seven’s tack. Before I leave the world of the stable, I go back and say good-bye. 

On my way toward the big door into daily life, I think about how happy I am and how riding, while being a great work out for the lower body,  gives me that full mental escape I need.  I reach the door and put my hand in the middle of the long bar that runs the entire width. As I push down I am breathing a little easier and smiling a little more than I was an hour ago. Sore but rejuvenated  I take that step across the threshold back into reality. 


Never quit, 

Mary

Coming up:  I face the ultimate test...trying to stay on track during the holidays

Running and Reconnecting

Our High School Group
Me, Tara, Jocelyn and Kelly (missing from photo Martha)
Summer 1988

It’s Saturday morning, 7:30 am.   I look out between the blinds. I can see an icing sugar dusting of snow on the ground. It’s a chilly -4.  I am still a little bleary eyed, but I am up. I am scheduled to meet my high school friend Jocelyn whom I haven’t seen much of since the late-1990's and go for a run.  

Today is one of those days where life hands you a scenario you never imagined. If someone had told us five years ago that this would be our plan for today, I think both of us would have told you that there was greater chance of the world ending (as per the Mayan’s) in December 2012, than there was of the two of us running around High Park.  Yet here I was, peering out the window at the weather and feeling a little apprehensive.   

As fate would have it, my friend Jocelyn has been on a similar path to mine, like me, she has been seeking to make changes in her life and push the limits of her physical fitness. She is more than a little impressive. In the last three years she has taken 78 inches off her entire body, gained 35 pounds of muscle and just finished a triathlon.    

I hope I can keep up.

She arrives and I remark to myself how there is nothing in the world like the magic of an old friend.   They know exactly how to relieve you of any baggage you may be carrying.   As I am sputtering about an injured foot and apologizing because I am consequently only running 5 minute intervals, she just laughs and says “don’t worry about it.  I am here to run with you.”

We soon get moving.  As we head through High Park I notice how stark and sad the trees look, shivering naked in the breeze that blows in from Lake Ontario. The dismal surroundings are in sharp contrast with my mood.  I am having a great time and relieved to find that I am keeping up.    

The next few kilometres are fueled by great conversation.  She tells me about her life; her journey of positive change and the events that inspired her to start. We compare notes on how making a change in one area seems to lead to changes in others. We talk about how we both still consider ourselves to be "works in progress."

We stop. Laughing, we try and take our own picture.  Thankfully a fisherman comes by and takes it for us.  

As we get close to the end of the 5KM loop, my foot starts to give me trouble.  It happens just as we are about to start the torturous Spring Road hill. It’s one if those sleeper hills that doesn't appear to have such a stark incline, but about quarter of the way up your legs ache and you are gasping for breath.    

“ I've never made it to the top of this hill without walking,” I say to her. 

“So come on then, let’s do it together,” she says.  

Today, miraculously it happens. Sore foot and reduced training notwithstanding, I get to the top.  It’s a nice moment. 

As we are walking home, I think about how, strangely, running has taken on a significance beyond fitness for me and how through running I have come to connect with different people and myself in very profound ways.  I think about the vicissitudes of life and how opportunity for renewal presents itself in places like Facebook.  Had Jocelyn's status updates and my 43 Project posts not had a common theme, we might not have reconnected. I am very glad we did. Ultimately I think about how we could have gone for a cup of tea or had brunch, but chose to do this instead. Given path we are both taking, I think this was perfect way to get reacquainted. 

Never quit,

Mary

Coming up:  Horsing around in earnest and investigating the unfamiliar world of racquet sports

Spinning: As the snow flies I take the ride inside.

“Oh man…it’s snowing,” Marla says with a combination of sadness and disgust.

As we walk to the gym, I look at the sky.  It has a melancholy grey about it and the ground is harder than usual beneath my feet.  It seems a long time since last Sunday when it was warmer and the sky was a happy sunshiny blue. It was the type of day where winter seemed like it might pass us by. As we rode our bikes out to Leslie Spit, we strategized about the how we’d ride all winter if there was no snow this year.  

Just as I am about to get lost even further in the memory of last Sunday, a gust of cold wind slaps us in the face with a dose of reality.   It reminds me of how we both somehow instinctively knew that our winter riding dream was just that…a dream, and why we are up at this ungodly hour on a Sunday morning to attend spinning class.

The Sunday morning class at my gym is unique...and getting up early is a must...if you aren't in line by 7:45 you won't get a spot when it starts at 8:15. 

Spinning, if not lead by the right person, can by very boring.  But this class is designed by Paul. He is a rock n’ roll mix master, road cyclist and genuine guy with a great sense of humour.  He’s the kind of person that can make you believe you are having fun…even when you are biking uphill for 20 minutes. Paul is one of a kind, and even though he would never admit it, I am willing to bet he has developed quite a following at the gyms where he works around the city. 




Marla and I get there in good time.  We head into the studio and choose our bikes.  I am adjusting the seat on mine when I hear a broad English accent, "Well, what do we have here? Mary! Nice to have you back."  I give Paul a big hug and try to sneak a peek at his playlist as he sets up his bike.

Born in London in the shadow of White Hart Lane, Paul was the kid who took his transistor radio to bed and listened to music until late into the night.  His love of music is part of his instruction style and soundtracks for classes are filled with tunes that cross decades of popularity.  One can expect to hear the Beatles, Neil Young, Nine Inch Nails, Pink Floyd, Beastie Boys, Metallica and U2, just to name a few. 

As we are standing there chatting, I tell him I have been out riding my bike most weekends and that I am back so that I can keep my aerobic level up over the winter. "You are going to have to work to your full potential in every interval to keep your edge." he says smiling.  

One of those people who, unlike me, is prepared to brave any sort of weather, Paul rides his bike everywhere he goes--all year round.  His devotion to cycling forms his philosophy for spinning. Classes are designed to replicate a one hour outdoor ride with lots of hills.  He concentrates less on sprinting, like some instructors, and more on building cardio and muscular endurance through climbing.  

Our class begins, Paul tells us that our first interval will be a nine minute hill.  There are a few groans, which prompts him to utter what has now become his tag line...“pain today…nice looking legs tomorrow."


For the next hour, we encounter rolling hills,  adjust the resistance to simulate a steep hill and thankfully have a five minute flat aerobic interval.   All of this is done at maximum energy level and intensity.  Paul doesn't allow us to back off until the 60 minutes have elapsed.

After class is over, Marla and I walk back up the hill towards our building.  Although I am wishing I could be outside riding my bike, it's nice to have the whole day ahead of me to do things.  As we walk on,  I also can’t help but think of the weather and how my Mom always says “it’s an ill wind that doesn’t blow some good.” Spinning with Paul is more than just an exercise class, it's an entertaining social event that I can look forward to over the winter.  Plus a new season brings new opportunities. Putting my bike away will be sad, but I have a whole list of winter activities planned...many of which require snow.     

Never quit, 

Mary


Coming up:  I connect with an old friend and run for a good cause.   

Cave Tubing in Belize

"Sunscreen...check. Bug Spray...check. Water shoes...check. Sunglasses...on my head."

With our cruise ship floating outside of Belize City, we are waiting for the number of our tender boat to be called to take us into port.  I am amusing my obsessive-compulsive self by checking my backpack for probably the 10th time since I packed it.

Today some our group are going zip lining. All of our group are going cave tubing. The zip liners seem pretty confident, but what I haven't really told anyone is that I am terrified of caves and enclosed spaces. Since I haven't had my 10:00 am beer yet, I am a little nervous.

They call our number and we board the tender boat to Belize City. It's an incredibly beautiful day. When we arrive we meet our excursion group and get on the bus which will take us through the city and about an hour inland to the rain forest and caves.

Our excursion company for the day is called cave-tubing.com. As we travel along they shout out facts about Belize and tell jokes over a crackling microphone.    I find myself seated beside one the guides, Fabian.   He smiles at me and we start to talk about Belize and Canada and the some the dangers inherent in consuming too much of the cashew wine our excursion leader is handing out.




He tells me about the multicultural make-up of Belize. "We have people of African, South Asian, Chinese, British, Mayan and Spanish origin here," he says.  "I am British, Spanish and Mayan." I take a good look at him.   He is handsome, with olive skin, structured features, dark eyes and long black lashes. We compare notes on our lives and our countries for the next hour.

Eventually we are dropped off at an activity complex built in the rain forest.  The zip lining site is located among a canopy of palms, allspice and cashew nut trees.  While Mr. Wiser's, Mr. Maui and Ritzy are zipping through the trees, the Snorkels, Sheri and I have pre-tubing beer.

In no time the zip-liners are back and we are kitted out with tubes and life jackets. So begins an entertaining but agonizing 20 minute hike over a rock path in thinly soled water shoes.   There's lots of laughter as we amble along, and lots of people, including myself, looking to find a dirt path that is easier on the feet. Finally, after twice wading through the river, we reach the mouth of the caves.

"Come over here mama and papa, you are the anchors."  Our guide Jamie is talking to Brad and Angelina Snorkel.  He is arranging us in one long line of tubes.   "Hold on to Papa's feet,"  he says to Angelina.

When we finally all have our life jackets on and have the feet of the person behind us in a death grip,  we are pushed out into the stream.   Incredibly, Jamie starts towing us, swimming the back stroke and giving us the information about the caves.  

These caves were referred to as "hell" by the Mayan's," he says. "It was where the dead congregated."

In spite of what sounds like at rather ominous location and my claustrophobia, I am feeling pretty good.  The ceilings are actually quite high and there is lots of room to move and breathe.  In fact, I am able to relax enough to fully appreciate what I am looking at. I see stalactite's dripping water and hanging down from the top of the cave like giant fangs.  We float by a waterfall which is followed by shelves of stalagmites rising up to form scenes that our guide describes to us.

"If you look to the left you will see Bob Marley standing next to the Virgin Mary. This is the only place in the world where the two come together in such a public way," he chuckles.   I can't help but laugh to myself as well, thinking of how this coupling of  icons is somewhat symbolic of the unique combination influences in my own life.

Although Jamie is largely steering us, there are moments when the ride is unpredictable and we bump off the side of the caves or have to lift our butts way up in shallow parts of the river.  In the end, we exit the caves and come out into the sun.  Looking back at the dark hole in the cliff face it does seem like we have just been through another dimension of existence.

We float down the river and eventually end up at the point where we started our hike. After a snack and more beer, we board the bus. As we make our way back to the ship I sit with Fabian again.   He asks me how I have enjoyed Belize.




"I love it here," I say.   "Today was fabulous, there is absolutely no question I'll be back again."

Never quit,

Mary

Coming up next:  Home from vacation, I put my bike away for the winter and head back to spinning class.