Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘yoga’

I’ve been a runner for about three years now. But I was a yogi long before I was a runner. And these days, the two disciplines inform and bolster each other.

I discovered yoga back in Abilene, when a friend told me about some classes downtown at the Center for Contemporary Art. I showed up on a weeknight with my green Target yoga mat, unsure about where to put my feet or how to breathe or really, all of it. But I fell in love with wise, kind-eyed, practical McKay and her classes, and when I moved to Boston, one of the first things I did was find Healing Tree, the local studio. I took classes there for nearly nine years, until I moved to Eastie (and The Point, my current neighborhood studio) last summer.

When I started running in 2017, I kept on doing yoga: one or two vinyasa flow classes a week, the way I’d always done. I love yoga for the strength and flexibility it’s helped me hone, and the way a good class can clear my head, make me feel calmer, more settled, more at home in my body. Although running is a very different workout, I love it for many of the same reasons. So it makes sense that at least for me, they complement one another.

In normal, non-pandemic times, I go running most nights after work and squeeze in a yoga class once or twice a week. Since mid-March, I’ve been running (almost) every morning and going to yoga (in the park, when possible) once or twice a week, either at lunchtime or early evening.

Both disciplines help me pay attention to my body, help me grow stronger and more flexible, more attuned to my bones and muscles and how they interact with my mind. When I’m running, I pay more attention to my hips and shoulders because of yoga, and I’m sure the deep breathing practice doesn’t hurt, either. And my warrior poses and balance poses – tree, eagle, dancer – are stronger because I’m a runner. Both disciplines, too, remind me of the joy of effort and rest: working up a sweat and then a lovely cool-down walk when running, a series of challenging poses and then a peaceful savasana in a yoga class.

I didn’t really think about whether my running would affect my yoga, or vice versa, when I became a runner. But they balance one another quite well, and I’m glad for that. (Bonus: I can wear the same gear to do both, and – at least for now – practice both of them outside.)

Read Full Post »

Someone mentioned last week that we are six months into pandemic life, and I had to pause a moment. Six months? On some level, of course, six months is a blink – and in other ways it has been the longest, strangest half-year ever.

With wildfires on top of the pandemic and racial injustice, and a president who seems either unable or unwilling to respond properly to any of those, it can be tough to simply move through the days. My former colleague Juliette has started saying “pandemic good” when people ask how she’s doing – a response I love for its snark and honesty. (I follow her on Twitter because she’s a homeland security and logistics expert, and also because she’s reliably, relatably human.)

Doing yoga in Piers Park the other night (under a hazy sky), I stepped one foot back into a lunge and could feel myself shaking a bit. This multiplied when we got to crow pose, which I love but have not mastered yet. But I didn’t feel worried at any point that I was going to come crashing down: I felt shaky, but strong. And it came to me: that’s where so many of us are these days.

I am still furloughed (through the fall semester) and trying to figure out both freelance work and possible next steps. I miss my family, whom I haven’t seen since Christmas. Most of my friends are adjusting to new remote or hybrid school setups for their kids, often while working remotely themselves. My guy is still working at Trader Joe’s, a job he is thankful for but which carries a risk. We are all dealing with some form(s) of loneliness, worry, isolation and fear.

And yet: we are learning, slowly, what we need to survive or even flourish in these strange times. (For me: strong black tea before a morning run, in-person time with my people as often as possible, ginger-turmeric granola, bear hugs from my guy, good books, plenty of hand lotion to counteract all the sanitizing.) We worry about how we’ll keep going, and then we get up and do it. We are dealing with tech issues and unemployment tangles and trying to get our heads around a new season and waning hours of daylight. We are meeting for socially distanced walks and bike rides and picnics in the park. We have no real answers (does anyone?) but we are doing the best we can.

Shaky, but strong. That’s where I am today, and most days. We are building resilience even as these strange days take everything we’ve got. We are still here. There is still joy, and beauty, alongside anxiety and strain. And we get up each day, make another cup of tea or coffee, and keep going.

How are you really doing, these days? I’d love to know.

Read Full Post »

img_5557

This is the summer of simple breakfasts: Greek yogurt with granola and blueberries in the blue-and-white bowls I bought from Carolyn. I eat sitting at my kitchen table, sipping ginger peach or English Breakfast from one of my favorite mugs.

This is the summer of morning pages: filling up slim notebooks with scribbled thoughts, jottings, worries, hopes, half-remembered dreams. I went to Bob Slate right when quarantine started and spent a small fortune on journals, which have lasted up until now.

This is the summer of morning runs, down the hill to the harborwalk and over to the greenway, pausing to snap photos of harbor views and herons, wild roses and day lilies.

f7a7fca4-033f-429d-9417-74756696f285

This is the summer of purple sneakers pounding on pavement, I’m With Her or the Highwomen in my ears, pulling up my neck gaiter when I pass another person, wishing I could stop to pet the friendly dogs.

This is the summer of masks: wearing, washing, pulling up and down, wondering if I should buy more, on repeat.

This is the summer of long bike rides, alone or with G on my new single-speed pink bike, gradually gaining confidence in hills and corners, thankful for a way to avoid public transit and be out in the sunshine.

This is the summer of missing normal: canceled plans, Zumix concerts in the park, dinner with friends, time with my family, hugs.

00b2cf84-9167-4b64-9254-19c9bddb2efa

This is the summer of Sara Paretsky: I’m deep into V.I. Warshawski’s adventures fighting crime in Chicago and I think it’s safe to say I am obsessed.

This is the summer of Tuesdays at the farmers’ market, buying salsa roja and berries and sometimes hummus or muhammara, from the handful of sellers who wait faithfully on the plaza. After we shop, we sit in the grass and snack, savoring tart currants and sweet strawberries before heading our separate ways, toward home.

This is the summer of so much time and feeling like I should be doing something with it.

This is the summer of yoga in the park, spreading my mat out a safe distance from everyone else and breathing through sun salutations and hip openers.

img_5502

This is the summer of light on the water, watching sailboats and dinghies and yachts on the harbor, marveling at how it changes from hour to hour.

This is the summer of antiracist reading: Ibram X. Kendi and Robin DiAngelo, Mildred D. Taylor and Nikki Giovanni, making a conscious effort to seek out stories by people who don’t look like me.

This is the summer of Downeast cider – no samples, but cans or growlers picked up to go, refreshing fruit flavors with a little bite.

This is the summer of serious loneliness, trying to build in phone chats and/or in-person connection every day. Sometimes it works; sometimes it’s simply exhausting.

img_5533

This is the summer of smoothies at Eagle Hill Cafe, a new favorite in Eastie – I’m working my way through their smoothie list.

This is the summer of reading e-galleys for review; I still don’t like it but I am used to it by now. I am thankful to pick up physical books at the library, and drop in at my favorite bookstores occasionally.

This is the summer of waiting: for the pandemic to be over, for my unemployment to come through (finally), for news about my furlough status, for a time when we can gather without fear.

What does this summer look like for you?

 

Read Full Post »

90b27868-62ad-47a8-b049-bce0c439fcfa

It is hot, y’all. We’ve had multiple 90-degree days here in Boston this month, and the heat doesn’t seem to be letting up. Add to that the constant, endless, gnawing anxieties of the pandemic and you’ve got a recipe for stress and frustration. I am still healthy, but I’ve been on furlough all summer and no one is too sure when we’ll get to go back to work. It’s exhausting.

I am trying – when I can – to focus on the silver linings, and one of those is helping with the frustration, too: park yoga.

My beloved local studio, The Point, has been offering Zoom classes during the pandemic, but about a month ago they also began small, socially distanced in-person classes in Piers Park, down the hill from my house. I’ve been taking my green mat and walking down there once or twice a week, and I have to say: it is lovely.

b2197f86-7e0d-419c-8ee7-15e80b7f7b29

There are usually a half-dozen of us there, and we set up our mats in the long grass. Sometimes there’s music; more often it’s the background noise of children and runners and tankers going by in the harbor. (There was some excitement the other night involving a literal wild-goose chase and some very hyped-up kids.) We do sun salutations and lizard poses, stretch out in warrior, try to breathe deeply and let the various stresses fall away, for a little while.

I’ve appreciated the work that goes into Zoom classes, but by May or so I was all screened out. It is so nourishing to be together in person, to see Taylor’s smile or hear Devon’s laugh, to nod at the other students I know by sight. The community matters as much as the poses and stretches. And I am deeply grateful for all of it.

Read Full Post »

tulips-pot-red

When the quarantine orders came down in mid-March, I thought: at least I’ll still be able to run. 

I kept running, mostly as usual – even a little more than usual – for five weeks, except when it poured rain. (Thank goodness for online yoga.) I live in a neighborhood with lots of public space: the Harborwalk, several parks and the East Boston Greenway. I love a three- or four-mile run through these spaces, and I was enjoying the chance to run nearly every day. Until my body mounted a serious protest to those weeks of working on a hard kitchen chair.

I panicked. Then I paid attention. Then I bought a foam roller and took nearly a week off running and did a lot of resting and stretching. The past week or two, I’ve mostly been back to running, though I’m taking breaks to walk more often, and sometimes shortening the distance.

tulips-red-gold

After several days of feeling good, I was expecting to go on a longer run this bright morning, but I woke up with tired muscles from last night’s long walk. So instead of the planned four-ish miles, I took a slow walk/jog down the hill, through the shipyard, down the pier and back, through the park. It wasn’t the longer run I had hoped for, but it had sunshine and movement and flowers, and it felt good to get out and move. I followed it up with some yoga, which was just what I needed.

I’m slowly learning to trust my body: though I’ve done yoga for years, running has both helped and forced me to inhabit these bones, muscles and tendons in a new way. I am learning to pay attention when my body says stop or wait or maybe not today. And I’m also looking forward to the day – maybe tomorrow, maybe next week – when she whispers Yeah. Let’s go. 

Read Full Post »

 

bookstore lenox interior shelves

One thing I miss, in this strange time of restricted movement: popping into my favorite shops (and restaurants).

A couple of my faves, like my beloved florist and the best taqueria in Maverick Square, have simply closed down for the duration. There’s not much I can do except look forward to the day when I can visit them again. (You can bet I’ll be hugging my florist, when it’s safe to do so.) But there are a few other small businesses I’m supporting with my dollars, during this crazy time. Here’s a list, in case you’re in need of books or tea or stationery, or other fun things, and have a bit of cash to spare.

  • Trident, Brookline Booksmith and the Harvard Book Store are my three favorite indie bookshops in Boston, and they’re all still operating online. (Trident’s cafe is still open, too, if you’re local.) If you’re a book lover, please support an indie bookstore during this time – they are such centers of creativity and joy, and they really need the cash flow.
  • My two favorite yoga/fitness studios, The Point EB and Savin Hill Fitness, are offering online classes via Zoom. They’re super reasonable – Savin Hill even offers one free class each day – and the instructors are great.
  • Mem Tea Imports, based in Somerville, is still shipping their delicious teas. I stocked up in mid-March, and I’m sure I’ll be making another order soon. They always stick an extra sample or two in each order.
  • I ordered some fun quarantine correspondence cards from 1canoe2, a small stationery business I’ve loved for years. They are hilarious and cute.
  • Jenny at Carrot Top Paper Shop is still bringing the cheer, even drawing some of her heroines wearing masks. Love love love.
  • Marathon Sports, my favorite Boston-based running store, is still shipping online orders. They’ve provided me with new running shoes and a much-needed foam roller since this all started.

What are some favorite small businesses you’re supporting right now?

Read Full Post »

As with so many other aspects of our lives these days, my yoga practice has gone online.

I discovered yoga about 10 years ago, when a friend invited me to some classes taking place in the Center for Contemporary Arts in downtown Abilene. I was (and remain) a bit intimidated by people who can twist their bodies into pretzel-like shapes, but I fell in love with the poses and breath work, and with McKay (the instructor’s) warm, practical, down-to-earth approach to yoga. When I moved to Boston, I immediately started taking classes at Healing Tree in Quincy, just down the road from my house. And when I moved to Eastie last summer, I found and fell in love with The Point.

Right as the social-distancing plans were ramping up, I went to a Sunday night restorative class at The Point. I had a hunch (correct, it turned out) that it would be my last chance for a while. There were three of us plus Taylor, the instructor, and we spread out with mats and blankets and bolsters, and tried to breathe deeply by candlelight. I felt it might fortify me, somehow, for whatever was coming next.

Since then, I’ve been dipping into Yoga with Adriene on YouTube and taking virtual online classes from both The Point and my friend Erin’s studio, Savin Hill Fitness. I like Adriene’s calm voice and occasional Texas twang (and her dog, Benji). I like that her videos are there for me any time. But I also like the virtual classes: even though we’re not in the room together, it helps me to know there’s a live instructor on the other side of the camera. The best part, when I’m taking from an instructor I know, is getting to wave at Erin or Izzy or Renee at the beginning or end of class.

Yoga is, of course, often silent and individual, except for the instructor’s voice. But for me it is also about community. It’s been a way for me to ground myself in the places I have lived. And even though I’m doing it solo on my kitchen floor these days, it’s still providing a bit of connection. Not to mention some seriously needed stretching, core work and deep breaths.

Are you doing yoga (or other workouts) online these days?

Read Full Post »

Hello, friends. Here we are, staring down week 5 (say it ain’t so) of what my former colleague Juliette Kayyem calls “the now normal.” It is also Easter Sunday, and the middle of Passover – and if you are celebrating, I hope you’re finding ways to do that.

These days are edged with worry and fear and loneliness, but also deep gratitude, and I still believe the small good things are always worth sharing and celebrating. In my quarantine stories I am trying to be honest about all of it, but today I really want to focus on the good.

So, even while this is hard (and it is, y’all), here is what’s saving my life now.

  • Watching the birds in the apple tree out back – there’s a pair of cardinals, several blue jays, some tiny house wrens, what I think are yellow finches.
  • That same tree, leafing out and getting greener every day (with a few blossoms showing up, too).
  • Online yoga – with Adriene, the crew at Savin Hill Fitness, or Renee at the Point. My old green yoga mat is getting a lot of use these days.
  • Daffodils, crocuses, early tulips and cherry trees, which are blooming away, oblivious to anything but the light and the warmer weather.
  • The saucer magnolias in the neighborhood, which are pure pink-and-white glory.
  • Tea in my favorite mugs – I stocked up on my favorites from MEM Tea just as all this hit.
  • Texts from friends near and far, FaceTime with my sister, phone calls with friends and my parents, and the occasional video message on Marco Polo.
  • Running – my usual route along the harborwalk and greenway here in Eastie is keeping me sane.
  • Walks, when I’ve been inside all day or even just for a couple of hours.
  • Juliette’s smart, pragmatic commentary in the Atlantic and on Twitter.
  • Occasional trips to the bodega for necessities and human contact.
  • Fresh flowers – my beloved florist has closed for now, so I’m getting both my flowers and groceries at Trader Joe’s.
  • The #LivefromHome music performances online, spearheaded by Chris Thile and multiplying beautifully.
  • This video, made by students from Berklee, where I work – it has gone viral in the best way, and it’s sweet and wonderful.
  • Good books: the last few (for now) physical review copies, the last of my library stack, a reread of Rilla of Ingleside.
  • Seeing my colleagues’ faces during our weekly Zoom meetings.
  • Long walks and bear hugs with my guy.
  • Sidewalk chats with my friends in the neighborhood – we are all staying home/staying six feet apart, but it’s good to be together in person.

What is saving your life in these strange days? Please share, if you like.

Read Full Post »

…is something I am saying a lot these days.

One reason for that: it’s winter. Never mind the mostly-mild weather and wild temperature swings; this time of year is always tough for me. The lack of sunlight can leave me feeling dull and flat, and I’m always exhausted (physically and emotionally) after the holidays. But I am trying (as Maggie Smith keeps reminding us) to keep moving, whether literally or otherwise.

Here are a few things that are helping me, as we continue to move through January:

My light therapy lamp. Real talk: some days I don’t know if it makes any difference. But I flip it on every morning anyway, and most days I think it does take the edge off these long, dark evenings.

Putting the bread in the freezer. This is not like Joey having to put Little Women in the freezer on that episode of Friends (by the way, I saw the new movie twice and adored it). I live alone, so freezing a loaf of bread is one way to ensure it doesn’t all mold before I can toast it. (These days I’m loving Trader Joe’s multigrain sourdough.)

Taking a walk. Which is always a good idea – whether it’s down the street to the library or Trader Joe’s, around my neighborhood on a weekend, or over to campus for a meeting.

Eating all the clementines. I’m going through them like they’re candy, and I’m totally fine with that – because they’re bright, delicious and healthy.

My budding amaryllis, which I wrote about the other day, and which might actually be magic.

Working a puzzle at a girlfriend’s house the other night. I agree with Anne: puzzles are relaxing and good for your brain.

Yoga, even if I have to drag myself there (and sometimes I do).

What’s helping you get through, these days?

Read Full Post »

 

Every December, I pack a big suitcase and travel down to Texas to spend the holidays with my family. (I make this journey two or three times a year, but Christmas is the big one.)

It’s always something of an odyssey, and it’s never without a headache or two. But there are a few things that save my life, every time. Here are the ones from this trip:

  • My refillable water bottle, and water stations/fountains in every airport. These are a money-saver and a welcome antidote to that dry airplane air.
  • Clementines, granola bars and any other healthy snacks I can find in the airport newsstands.
  • The in-flight magazines, which I truly enjoy. I also sometimes treat myself to a magazine from one of those newsstands; this time it was Runner’s World. 
  • Pleasant and helpful gate agents, who helped me tremendously when I mislaid my boarding passes (on the way to Texas) and ran into long flight delays (on the way back).
  • The yoga room at DFW Airport. I’d heard about this newish trend, but this was my first time seeing it in action. It felt so good to dump my stuff and stretch out on a mat for a few minutes.
  • Sweet seat mates, like the woman traveling with her toddler son on my flight to Dallas. We chatted about food and travel and Boston winters, and her wriggly little redhead gave me a few smiles.
  • Layovers long enough to catch my breath.
  • Strategically placed outlets throughout the gate areas.
  • A place to get some decent Earl Grey – whether it’s Starbucks or a local cafe in the airport.

What saves your life when you fly? Any tips? I’m always up for more ways to make it easier.

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »