Girl Meets Yoga

Who can fall off the couch potato wagon? I can. Actually, I jumped off. "Couch potato to 5k" is a  popular beginner running schedule that guides running novices from a level zero fitness level to being able to jog about three miles, over the span of nine weeks. It is an easy program that alternates running and walking, gradually increasing the length of the running intervals, until a three mile jog can be completed continuously. I posted a facebook status that I was embarking on my own personal couch potato-no more journey, that was met with enthusiasm and encouragement from all sorts of random acquaintances and friends alike. I began researching 5ks to sign up for at the end of the summer. I located my running sneakers and sports bras. I downloaded the couch potato app. There was never any doubt in my mind that I would lose the last 15-ish pounds of pregnancy weight through jogging, just as I had after the first pregnancy. Training for a 10k, outside of breastfeeding, had been the most effective, not to mention emotionally beneficial, method of finding my way back into those skinny jeans. Running was, after I broke through the "I'm going to die" threshold, so amazing for my body, mind and spirit- as any runner would tell you. This time around, I was looking forward to finding my stride again (yes, pun,) starting slowly with the couch potato schedule.

For a few weeks I made it out consistently, following the instructions carefully, checking off the days until I'd be running three effortless miles. From there, the world of running would again open up to me and take me in as one of it's own, and I'd be off to the half marathons. But, it didn't work out like I had fantasized. I found it harder to find motivation to get my ass (not off the couch, because it's only there for a few minutes during the morning coffee grogs, and perhaps again at night if I watch a little TV, or tool around online for an hour or so,) but simply out the door to go walk/jogging. I wasn't finding any of the relief or release that my new life as mom of two demanded. I was, instead, finding that I was out of breath, side-pained, poorly under garmented, and feeling altogether inadequate. Where was the head clearing, high inducing, body sculpting, calorie burning, wonder woman, running experience that I remembered from two years earlier? Turns out, it wasn't on the path from the couch to the 5k. I quit the running program,  didn't excercise at all for a couple of months, and felt crappy about it.

One day, seemingly spontaneously, I picked up my phone and found the webpage to our lovely local yoga studio. I can't tell you how many times I've thought about checking the place out, or how many people I've heard testify to its zen-nes. Yoga isn't something that I had ever really delved in to, only dabbling a bit here and there with the likes of Denise Austin et al. I'm not sure why I didn't try to find a yoga class previously. Maybe I'd thought little of trying to become a yoga "type," a yogi, whatever that means. Or maybe we were just broke enough that I couldn't justify spending money to exercise. In any event, for some reason,  I decided to call the studio to inquire and ended up at my first class a couple days later. The place was beautiful with tons of plants, and flowing draperies, and gleaming hardwood floors. Patchouli incense burned, and people sat quietly with far off looks waiting for class to begin. I of course, stumbled in, all apologies for not being "yoga enough" to participate in the challenging Ashtanga class I'd chosen, and trying to explain about my two little ones, pointing out the baby slobber on my shoulder, and how I needed something just for myself, that running hadn't worked out. I must have looked like a crazy woman. The teacher was kind and welcomed me right in, not an ounce of yoga snobbery lurking in her face. It was a phenomenal experience. I was pushed to the very limits of my body's ability-yet I never felt tomato faced, or like I could collapse for lack of breath. My heart rate came up, and my muscles shook with work as we shifted from pose to pose in rapid sequence, all the while maintaining a calming, breathing, lengthening flow. I left the building smitten. It was like kissing a crush for the very first time. When and how can I get more of that? Smiling, walking to my car, knowing I would ache like crazy in the morning, yet feeling so revitalized and centered,  I vowed to begin a yoga practice.

So it's been a few weeks, I purchased a membership to the studio and have been able to go to classes about twice a week in the evenings. As soon as I feel confident, I'll incorporate the practice at home, but I really think the classes are essential for two reasons. First, a class requires leaving the house and doing something alone. Second, in a class, someone else is in charge, making all the decisions, telling me exactly what to do right down to when to breath, where to look, and even what thoughts to think. After spending most days with a toddler and a baby, having someone else boss me around for a bit is refreshing. Breathing, flow of breath, is integral to yoga. Inhales and exhales dictate when to move, and how to move. This emphasis on breathing has translated into my daily SAHM life during all the many moments where I must shut my eyes, breath deeply, and carry on to the next thing. Anyone else ever had a moment where they realize they haven't been breathing for 10 seconds or so?

The other thing I realized was that yoga provides a complete physical experience. The more vigorous classes elevate my heart rate. They all incorporate total body strength and stretching. Doing plank and chaturanga  are keeping my chest and shoulders strong enough to schlep that 100 pound car seat over my elbow, a 30 pound toddler on my hip, my enormous purse over my shoulder, and then do a squat to retrieve a fallen binky. All of which I could previously do, but now, I take note of where my shoulders are, and press them firmly down. I keep my spine long when bent over to do the thousand things mothers spend all day bending over to do. I breath, breath and breath some more.

I've often heard of yoga described as a personal journey. There are "yoga memoirs" written by people who've had transformative experiences through their practice. Even if you're not looking for enlightenment, there is a long physical journey in finding the strength and flexibility to accomplish many poses. I was certainly not an ace walking in there to my first class. I took the modifications of many of the more advanced poses, and there were others that I could do more fully than most of the other people in the class. It was something I could enter, a complete novice, without having to get through an excruciating "break in" period, as in running, and feel that I'd worked my body and replenished my spirit at the same time. If that sounds a little too cheesy, just try it. If you're a mom, stay at home or otherwise, or just someone who tends to feel harried, pulled in opposite directions much of the time, give yoga a good college try. I may eventually, attempt to get back into jogging a bit, or I may not. That you must enjoy your exercise is an unshakable truism and right now, after having lost the motivation to run, it feels utterly wonderful to have found yoga so completely appropriate.

Namaste. :)