Day 197: Body and Spirit

My body is feeling pretty beat up today. I am being punished for that post where I said a run was "too easy." Seriously? There must be a happy medium, somewhere between too easy and super-hard. Maybe too easy is actually pleasantly paced, or perfectly wonderful, or happily unstrained.

After my swim on Friday, I had a usual day filled with usual home activities, then went out to a kundalini yoga class late in the day, which required a lot of sleight-of-hand childcare wrangling (almost didn't make it). Began the two hours class thrilled to be challenged, and, as the session went on, cursing my enthusiastic morning swim (which, combined with certain kriyas, appeared to have turned my arms to jelly), and by the end I felt quietly humbled. I went home and had a beer with my husband and stayed up later than usual (post-midnight). I knew there would be pain the next day. And there was. I did not get up for the early morning yoga class, as planned. But thankfully a friend posted a photo from her early morning Saturday run, and it inspired me to run, also as planned. I made it six aching kilometres through fairly heavy snow with thighs so sore and tired they were not much interested in rising OR falling. I comforted myself by thinking that I will no doubt feel much worse during the last six kilometres of the triathlon.

This morning, I rose early-ish and went to a 90-minute hot yoga class that was not on my high priority list to attend. I actually didn't want to go. And it was a challenge. My legs felt better, but my triceps were watery and the one felt like it had been punched repeatedly. I could barely lift my banana to my mouth let alone do extensive downward dogs. At least, that's how I felt going into class. But I made it. I was tired and weak, but I stuck it out and without too many modifications made it through to the end. And I felt so fabulously good afterward.

I decided that my body needs a day off. So I am not going for a run this evening, as planned. No. (Mind just said, what???? Are you sure????). Yes. I am sure. My body needs a day to recover and rest, and then I'll feel even stronger and can reap the benefits of all this freaking work I've been making it do.

I also had an additional thought. About the body and the spirit. A strong body does not equal a strong spirit; not necessarily. I can strengthen my body all I want, but if my spirit is weak, if I'm not connecting to something larger than the body's simple and self-involved desires, all the work is for nothing. Physical work can be good for the spirit, but the two don't automatically go together. Someone frail of body might be mighty of spirit; and vice versa. I would like to be both. I would like to connect this body work to spirit work. That sounds ephemeral, and perhaps is, but here's something that happened today: when I thought about the word spirit, I felt stronger during the class; and when I thought about the word body, all by itself, I felt weaker.

:::

This week (assuming I don't run tonight--no, I'm not going to!): five yoga classes; two runs; one swim; one spin. For a total of nine exercise slots. Next week, I'd like to add one more run. I may drop a yoga class (or two) in order to do that.

Day 195: Buoyant

Fourth session in the pool this morning, and it was a good one. I decided to try swimming 100m without stopping--except to turn around, which I'm getting better at doing smoothly. At first, I thought 100m would be all I could do, as my breathing got heavier. Then I realized it's just like running. Breathing gets heavier, but only to a point, and you just have to get used to it and then it feels fine. Same underwater. So, I never stopped. I went the entire hour swimming end to end. I stopped counting after 1km (or approximately, because frankly my brain is not good with the keeping track). That took me about half an hour or slightly less, so I figure I swam about 2kms. I even moved over to the medium lane toward the end, when I realized that I was annoying the leisure swimmers by lapping them repeatedly. Still don't quite understand the lane swimming etiquette, but thankfully it was a quiet morning and I mostly had lanes to myself.

I also must note that the yoga class post-spin felt easy. My thighs felt so sturdy. Not at all quavery. I also ran on Wednesday morning with a friend, and it felt too easy. We went about 5.5 kms. She has to get to work (plus it was our coldest morning run yet, with wind, too), which is why we went short, but next time out, I'll have to run an extra lap or two. I am really looking forward to running on the weekend. I just googlemapped my route to figure out distances, and discovered that a couple of Sundays ago I ran 10km without knowing it. That makes me feel good. Maybe, on that note, I will sign up for the half marathon.

Have not signed up for anything yet.

Must do that.

I also went to a hot yoga class last night; again, it felt easy. I love the stretching. I think it's imperative. Another yoga class tonight--kundalini, which I predict will not feel easy. And then a couple of runs, and hopefully two yoga classes on the weekend, if I can squeeze everything in. Along with the rest of my life, which includes getting kids to extracurricular activities, groceries and errands, and a date night with my husband. We're going to see Black Swan, even though I don't like scary movies.

Just read a short story about a character with an eating disorder which revolved around excessive exercise. Made me wonder--I'm not doing that, am I? Becoming obsessive about my body? I am so much enjoying the feeling of being stronger and more fit than I've ever in my life come close to being ... I hope it's not a form of vanity or self-delusion or ... something else negative. I'd prefer to think it's about feeling alive. About inhabiting this body fully while alive.

Oh, one last note: on naps! It's a fine art, which I am determined to perfect through practice. I have a friend who rises early most days of the week (like 5:15am early), and she swears by regular naps. So I've been trying it out experimentally, during this month of not having an excessive amount of work to do, and here's the scoop: naps are really restorative. Don't feel lazy if you take one. Don't feel like you're wasting time. Even twenty minutes in the early afternoon can save the day. I've got a new favourite nap spot: in the living-room, on a chair in front of the windows, with the afternoon sunshine pouring in.

Day 192: Up Early

Just because one takes a spin class with triathletes does not make one a triathlete. Wow. This spin class might just be a good way to observe how not-fit I actually am, compared to, well, these other people with their shiny new tri-bikes and crazy unstoppable muscular drive. Luckily, though I felt sluggish and tired at the start of class, I felt stronger as I went along. This seems to be a theme. The further I get into an exercise session, the stronger I feel. I suspect it's mental more than physical. The word that kept popping into my head at the start was "doubt." That's not a good word to work-out to, thought I, so I dropped a few letters and changed the word to "do." You get to a quiet interior place while spinning your legs around and around to music in a room in an industrial mall. (That's a strange sentence to write.) I feel better for having gone, but I do find it hard work.

I'm planning to get to a 90-minute yoga class in a few hours, and I'm curious to see how quivery my muscles will be (a whole lot quivery, methinks). I'm pretty achy already. I could use a good long stretch.

For some reason, I woke before 5, and never got back to sleep (alarm set for 5:27), so I got up early. Still, having gone to bed early, I got 7 hours of sleep last night, and it was pretty solid sleep. A better night than the one before. My positive attitude has returned.

My youngest daughter is playing "naptime" right now ... might just have to join in.

Day 191: Bleary, Blurry

Out of balance. It only took two days and three nights, and I feel lost, disconnected from the intention to train for and complete this triathlon. My husband was away for the weekend and I wasn't able to get out to do anything on my own. Instead, with kids in tow, I shovelled very heavy snow yesterday afternoon, soaked to the bone with sweat by the time I was done, about an hour later ... and that was it.

Set my alarm to get up for the early yoga class this morning, and instead was woken through the night every twenty to forty minutes by my youngest, who has a bad cough but no other visible symptoms. He kept screaming for me; almost like night terrors. I would calm him down, and go back to my bed, and be woken less than an hour later. Finally at one a.m., I turned off the alarm and brought him to our bed where we slept very restlessly for a couple of hours, till he asked to go back to his bed. He slept soundly from 5 a.m. till 7:30. That was his longest stretch ... and mine. And I said to my husband, I'm remembering why I used to be unable to get up early. The desire to hop out of bed pretty much disappears when one has already been up half the night. Years of my life were spent like that, but I'm not used to it anymore. My head feels fuzzy. I feel incapable of planning or thinking in an organized way.

I did go to a yoga class at noon. It felt imperative. It was that--get myself back on track--or give up on the project (ridiculous, I know, but my momentum feels really off). Yoga class was a good reminder that two days off hasn't ruined the training. Good grief. If it takes this little to throw me off ...

Well, at least I bounce back.

Tomorrow, I'm getting up early whether or not the kid sleeps through the night: I've signed up for the next three spin classes in the session, and expect I'll sign up for more after that, too. I'm already dreading it. It isn't really much fun to put yourself through intense exercise. But it feels good afterward. I must stop dreading it. Note to self.

Sleepy ...

Here's what I accomplished last week (Monday to Friday): three hot yoga classes; one run; one spin class; one swim. For a total of six exercise slots.

Hm. Doesn't sound like much. Or am I just being negative? I wasn't able to exercise last weekend either, so that cuts out some serious exercise times at either end. Hopefully this weekend will be more giving. I need to run at least three times a week, and four would be ideal, and for that, I need the weekends. It's not realistic to aim for more than one dose of structured exercise per day; already the juggling is demanding. And just wait till spring when the kids start their soccer season in all seriousness; and swim lessons. Right now, the kids are doing soccer three times a week, total, and we also do piano, drum, guitar, and music lessons (for a total of three hours per week, but that doesn't include transportation time). My older daughter also does a theatre class once a week. With four kids, scheduling time for everyone to pursue their interests is a real challenge, especially as I ramp up my own interests, and we go down to one vehicle (in March). Hm.

Here's what I hope to accomplish this week: five yoga classes (I'm doing a 30-day challenge, so I'm hoping to do a few extra classes); three runs (two on the weekend); one spin; one swim. For a total of ten exercise slots. Yikes. We'll see whether it's remotely feasible. This month I'm going a little heavy on the yoga; next month will have to back off the yoga and go heavier on the run/swim/spin.

Day 188: Swim and Nap

Swam for a full hour this morning, the longest so far, and my once-a-week goal. Twice-a-week would be better, but is not currently feasible. Maybe closer to the date of the triathlon. Since last checking in, I also went to my usual 90-minute yoga class, which last night felt easy. I think the instructor went a bit short, and eased off some of the more challenging poses. And I fit in a short date with my husband--out of the house at our favourite restaurant where I devoured a generous helping of lasagne. But I'm not drinking anymore, due to the early rising (I mean the casual social drinking that I used to enjoy--a beer with my husband on our date night, for example). Mango juice just doesn't seem like date night.

Getting up at 5:15 shouldn't be measurably harder than getting up at 5:40, but it is; and it's Friday. Thankfully, I was meeting a friend. We don't actually swim together, because she's a much better swimmer than I am. She says she always figures she's about "medium" at everything she does (not true--she's above-average at everything she does), so she goes in the medium lane. I figure I'm not going anywhere fast, so I choose the leisure lane (which may also speak to my attitude--I don't want to set expectations too high; I'd rather move up slowly than be humblingly called out). This morning, the first half hour was a struggle. It's my third time out for a "real" swim, and I felt, frankly, weary. My breathing came hard. My legs were fatigued. I stopped a lot to adjust my goggles (which seemed to be leaking more water than usual, but I also recognized that it was a coping technique--a chance to stop for a quick breather). The lane length is short--only 20 metres, and I find it difficult to have to restart my rhythm so often. I don't have a smooth turnaround method. I touch the wall, doggie paddle to change directions, then begin the stroke again. (Crawl stroke).

The first half hour was filled with doubt. If I'm aching this much after a mere 200 metres, what am I thinking, attempting a sprint-length race? I won't be able to stop and rest every 20 metres in a lake. I won't be able to adjust my goggles, or stop to spit out a mouthful of (disgusting) water. (I get gaggy thinking about taking in any pool water).

But the second half hour, things got better. My stroke felt smoother. I said to myself, take it easy. You're not here to win a race, you're just here to get better. You're starting almost from scratch. Go easy on yourself. (Yes, I talk to myself in the second person, sometimes, which, frankly, drives myself crazy; stop it, self!). Um. Where was I? Oh, yes, pep-talking myself in the pool.

Here was the difference between the first half hour and the second half hour. The first half hour, I kept thinking these words: watery grave. I kept focusing on the out-of-my-element aspects of the challenge. I hope that lifeguard is keeping her eye on me, I was thinking. Just in case everything seizes up here and I forget how to keep myself afloat. And the second half hour, I kept thinking: easy. The less forcefully I move my body through the water, the easier it is. I'm slow. Let it be known. I'm slow. But it feels easy. The watery world under there is kind of wonderful. When I turn to breathe, I catch a fleeting glimpse of droplets crossing the air. And under water, I can hear the murmurs of a quieter world. It's peaceful. And I move through it fearlessly.

:::

And can I just confess that I'm feeling grateful that I won't be able to get up early to run or go to yoga tomorrow? Though I may try to find a babysitter so I can run on Sunday. But I think I need a day off. Phew. I'm asking my body to turn itself into an athlete's body, and my body is saying, okay, uh, so here's the thing ... this has never before been an athlete's body! Also, I took a long nap this morning instead of working. This triathlon project is turning into a weird form of work. Unpaid and fairly costly work, it must be said.

Day 187: Obsession

Frustrated because I had to miss a yoga class on Tuesday due to my husband's work schedule. Also will be missing runs this weekend due to my husband's play schedule. Instead, fit in an early yoga class yesterday morning and a run last night in the fairly deep snow, like running on icy sand, or in sludge. Have to remind myself that a day or two here and there with no exercise is not the end of the world. Which makes me think I am hurtling headlong into obsessive territory. Seriously. There's more to life than exercising. Like, a lot more. And yet the desire to be more and more fit pulls with its own interior momentum. Slow and incremental changes that accrue. I am afraid that this project might make me into someone different. I am afraid of being changed in ways I can't anticipate.

This morning, I got to sleep in (my husband was up early instead), and I thought: okay, let's think of this project like a pregnancy. A limited period of intense work that aims toward a particular goal.

I also had a revelatory idea: this project might be fiction. What better way to get to know a new character, and a different world/culture than to immerse myself in it? Like the method style of acting. I'm excited by the thought. It opens up more possiblities in my mind.

Day 185: Spin

I survived my first spin class. As mentioned in my previous post, my friend T., who has completed the Ironman (!!), has been taking the class for awhile, and it's full of very intense triathlete/cycling types, who bring their own tri-bikes. It was definitely challenging, but I appreciated the challenge. Being with others definitely made me push harder than I thought I could--or, more precisely, than I particularly wanted to. The mental challenge.

Lots of thoughts, upon reflection, but my daughter is yelling for a different puzzle and my son for a different game, and we're late for playgroup. Aha. Real life, you see. It tends to interrupt.

Back again. Cupboards opened, problems (temporarily) solved.

I've been thinking about how to focus this project in order to make it book-worthy. I'm not interested in writing a how-to manual, because I'm not one for using how-to manuals myself. And I don't think it should be a motivational guide. But what came to me after class today is how there are so many pursuits that ask us to give ourselves away. Do you know what I mean? You have to give yourself over to the thing that you are pursuing; or, simply, give yourself away. Give of yourself. In a sense, I think that's what many of us are seeking out in our lives. We want to give ourselves to something greater than we alone could be.

Motherhood (fatherhood, too!) belongs in that category. Spiritual pursuits. Charity work. Mission work. Callings. Art. And, yes, the physical pursuits. And there are so many varieties of intensity. There is me, wanting to try-a-tri, or maybe a sprint. There are those who have completed triathlons, but who aren't interested in time. There are those who are shaving time off their personal bests. There are those who compete with the best, at a level quite beyond what I can imagine doing. But I don't think it all boils down to competition. There is something bigger at play, deeper, some fundamental desire to test the spirit.

I don't know whether that subject would make a book. What would my angle be? Interviews with people who have sacrificed in order to complete fairly outrageous goals? The Mother Theresas and Everest-climbers of the world? But it's the more ordinary people, the unsung, who throw themselves into new challenges at every turn in their lives, who interest me. I love reading obituaries. The ones that move me most describe lives of richness and commitment and variety. The woman who completed her doctorate while raising four children and became an expert in her field. The man who switched careers at 55. The artist who never gave up despite a life of obscurity and self-doubt.

It's a little bit Oprah. I do feel that. But I also felt, in this class this morning, that these extreme pursuits are really available to any of us--we just have to want to do it. We just have to pick the right pursuit and give ourselves over to it. (Whether or not it's possible to do that while maintaining a healthy balanced life is an open question--I would like to talk to people who manage, however it is that they manage. Maybe that's my angle.)

I'm going back to that class next week. Definitely.