MUSIC!
These are a few songs from my running playlist for my first 4 mile run since the accident. it was along the San Francisco shoreline (of course, now that it is 34 degrees in NYC, no more running). huzzah!

- We Own it - 2 Chainz, Wiz Khalifa
- Wagon Wheel- Darius Rucker
- Trumpets- Jason Derulo
- Timber- Pitbull, Ke$sha
- This is Gospel - Panic! At The Disco
- Sonsick- San Fermin
- Holy Roller- Thao & the Get Down Stay Down
- Best Thing I Never Had- Beyonce
- All About That Bass- Meghan Trainor (OF COURSE)


and, guys, I am (still) in love with these:

- Countdown- Beyonce
- Take Me To Church- Hozier
- Stolen Dance- Milky Chance
- I Choose You- Sara Bareilles
- Ride- Lana del Rey
- Sweet Jane- Cowboy Junkies


You can see the whole list on Spotify. In the future, I will try using Jog.fm to figure out some beats-per-minute-optimized songs. but until then, I will be that girl bounding down the Embarcadero mouthing "Killing me sooooooftly" to Beyonce. Don't stop, get it get it.

A few months ago, maybe in April, I took my first spin class. 

Lifechanging? Probably not. Impactful? Certainly. There were few physical activities this year that made me feel completely useless. One was snowboarding. The second was hiking uphill for hours carrying 40 pounds on my back. The third was spin class. Okay, fine, the fourth was probably breaking my own heart.

Now, I struggle with recovery. I referenced a quote from Ana Forrest's Fierce Medicine:

"I’d believed that in order to do what I was afraid of, I had to get rid of the fear first, but that turned out to be only an idea, not the truth. You have to do something two hundred times before the fear will disperse. Are you still afraid of something? Just do it again. Do it again. Do it again."

For as long as I can remember, I don't think I have ever just stopped being active for a period of time. Now it's a mental battle. Lacing up my shoes. Picking out smaller weights. Facing the way my muscles shake, even at 1/2 the weight I was using just two months ago. Dealing with how my breath seems like it wants to quit just 15 minutes into something. The flexibility I've lost. The strength I need to gain. The yoga poses I can't hold for as long.

Things that were easy then, now feel like war.

I intend to fight it.

My doctor talks about professional athletes. The slow progress they make. Basketball players jogging slowly across the court. Then around it. Then playing horse. Then pickup games. Practice. More practice. Are you scared? Do it again.

I feel my fear building, about how weak I feel.

I am stalking my fear. 

My fear of failing, my fear of love, my fear of pain, my fear of being injured. My fear of the unknown.

Let's go hunting.


PS- a favorite lyric from Bjork:

if travel is searching
and home what's been found
i'm not stopping

i'm going hunting

This weekend,  I went to this amazing art warehouse/rooftop party with yoga, a DJ, live music, free drinks, food, the whole shebang. all to benefit a nonprofit that is working to bring yoga to all. We did the wobble (I successfully executed my on-crutches version of the wobble), drank Summer Shandy and hard apple cider, watched the sunset across the Houston skyline.

Sometimes I think we do need reminders (I love it how straightforward Dooce's post on this is) of how utterly beautiful the world is around us, in our own backyard. Even if there are no mountains or rivers or rolling hills. I laugh when people tell me that Houston is "ugly"- have you seen the sunset? have you see the skyline? have you felt the evening breeze, the only kind where it feels cool enough to feel refreshing yet warm enough to still be in a tank top and sandals?

Even though I couldn't do all of the poses, just sitting down in the midst of amazing people watching the evening sun set, I couldn't help but feel gratitude, (and yes, this is my daily theme), gratitude for being alive, for being able to move around and wiggle my toes, for being able to reach my arms to the sky.

*photo from here

“There will come a time when you believe everything is finished; that will be the beginning. ”
― Louis L'Amour


i can't write fast enough to keep up with the things that i would like to put in words.
it's the endings that make us wake up.

as we walked across rivers and scrambled across tree trunks, M and C were talking about blogging. C said she didn't feel like she is a good writer, and that sometimes she doesn't feel like she can keep up with a blog. "I think a lot, and perhaps no one would ever understand or want to hear all I have to say." but in the end I believe that everyone can use writing for their own purpose. isn't that what writing is about? we create something in solitude for ourselves, and then cast it out in the world with the small hope that it will help someone; make someone else feel less alone; bring people together.

-

- a few weeks ago, i took my first spin class. i walked in, the room was dark and the music was throbbing, like a headache or a heartbeat, depending on the way you listened to it. a guy next to me who was decked out in biking gear helped me to adjust my bike. i was nervous. within 9 minutes i wanted to quit. i stared at the red seconds ticking away on the big digital clock and i wanted to walk out and throw up. the instructor was screaming at me to get my ass down closer to the seat and get off my handlebars. i was panting. i didn't even know what it was supposed to feel like, how do i "get off my handlebars?" it was foreign to me. i clung to the movement in everyone else's legs. i clung to the music, i clung to the feeling of being unable to keep up but trying to. i clung to every minute, and i told myself that i needed to stay the whole hour. i confronted the fact that i run away when things get tough. i confronted the fact that i've had the luxury of running away from things when they get tough. and then i made it, through the runs, through the hills, through the loaded weight, all of it. the guy next to me smiled and said that she is the hardest instructor in all of Houston, and that if it was my first class, i should feel proud to have gotten through it. i left the dark room feeling lighter, like i had dueled with something deeper than the physical exhaustion.

- on the yoga mat, R. talks about letting go of expectations. of smiling, of becoming more childlike. of not being afraid to try new things, to laugh, to dance a little. M reminds me to push myself. i stay comfortable. as I stood in warrior poses, I realized that i cling to the familiar kind of pain. what would it be like to push beyond, and reach a different place? not only in my poses on the mat, but in my heart?

-

and isn't it the way we think about things that matter? isn't it the way we command our thoughts that makes us weak or gives us strength?

“- This wife you have...
- Had. She's dead.
- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up
an unhappy memory.
- I can't remember anything unhappy
about [her]. ”
― Louis L'Amour

explosions in the sky filling
the room with the
black marshmallow ceiling
the start of class with, "become more childlike,"
mat is the safe place, and
maybe i am the only one who sits in the dark at the end
holding back the tears
watching the silhouettes of everyone breathing
but
 r. saying that
we must believe there is a plan,
that we are exactly where we need to be,
that we should be nowhere else,
that when we believe
that everything is finished
that will be
the beginning.

and all i can think of
is the song title,
"your hand in mine."

Today I sat down at my desk with a cup of hot green tea and read this excerpt from Ana Forrest's "Fierce Medicine".

"Size has nothing to do with standing up to someone. I began to grow my power."

"I’d believed that in order to do what I was afraid of, I had to get rid of the fear first, but that turned out to be only an idea, not the truth. You have to do something two hundred times before the fear will disperse. Are you still afraid of something? Just do it again. Do it again. Do it again."

I have practiced Forrest Yoga sporadically throughout my yoga explorations. My favorite yoga classes have been the ones in which instructors lead me to new territories of not only body, but of mind and life. Contrary to what it may seem (since I always seem eager to rearrange my schedule so that I can attend yoga classes), yoga has always been torturous for me. I am still terrified and nervous whenever I step into the yoga studio. I still feel like I might pass out every time I'm twisted into an asana with some creative name. It feels miraculous when I finally reach savasana, an ironed-out, satisfied heap on the ground. I don't think it's cliche to say that every single class is a facing of my fears. I have written briefly about my running journey, and though I've run half marathons, I still feel like I must prepare myself like a warrior whenever I stand at mile 0, even if it is only to conquer a 2 mile jog.

I am also reading Cheryl Strayed's "Wild", and I do believe that the physical journey combines so closely and intensely with the spiritual. I think about how impossible it seems that my past is littered with journeys up mountains and across glaciers and tiger leaping gorges. I think about how I arrived here, and how the days are steps up to a destination, and that there will be days where I feel like I can't take another.fucking.step, but when we arrive in a clearing at sunset, when we break bread with strangers or old friends, when we stop and make camp at points throughout the hike, isn't this what they meant when they emphasized the journey? We all seem to arrive at existential crises, but I remind myself that this path is our purpose.

This weekend I took a Vinyasa Flow class and we downward dogg-ed to Empire State of Mind. Now that's what I call a pumped up yoga class.

10 Reasons You're Not Getting Results In The Gym
Hardcore fitness trainer Pauline Nordin shares her list to help maximize your training efforts.

Not getting the results you'd like despite regular training and a pretty clean diet? Chances are you haven't maxed out, but just need to make a few alterations to how you train and eat. That being said, here are Pauline's top 10 reasons you may have plateaued with your results.

#1: You're using the same weights now as you did a month ago.

#2: You forget to take notes on how many reps you do so you actually just go in and do the exact same reps with the same weights every time. Your body is laughing at you.

#3: You may be eating "pretty" clean, but that's not good enough. Especially if you're sneaking junk food in every now and then. Conclusion: You're not eating strict enough.

#4: You're training at comfort level. Weight training shouldn't be done while your mind is drifting away to paradise. If you don't feel like you're in hell on most reps, you're not doing it hard enough.

#5: You're disco training, trying to isolate and tone muscles you don't even have!

#6: You forgot muscle training is not a software you can skip step 1-10 and then start working on it. You need the basics and you need to go through all the stages of muscle development. There's no fast lane. And if you do choose the fast lane you will see it all fall like a sand castle sooner or later.

#7: You're choosing foods that keep you fat if you're fat and skinny if you're skinny. Eat for your goals, not for what you wish was the food for your goal.

#8: You live off protein shakes because you think protein is what builds muscle. You end up using protein to turn it into glucose. And then there goes your energy.

#9: You emphasize recovery a little too much which means your legs get hit once every two weeks. Since leg training is exhausting it muscles up your whole body unless you curl and extend only, so you miss out on the muscle growth from skipping.

#10: You never change the order you do your exercises.

today, for the first time,  i did a handstand in the middle of the room without the wall behind me. i had a girl i had never met spotting me. her name is catherine. we had been told to choose a partner of equal build and equal sweatiness, and we were perfect together. her beautiful self was pouring with sweat, and we were of the few that raised our hands with R asked us who was scared.

she shook like a leaf as she went skyward, but skyward she went.

and as i raised up, i knew again what it felt like to fly. it's amazing that we don't think ourselves capable of flight, for human flight already exists.

---

after the handstand, catherine let me down as gently as she could and my body's instincts allowed my knees instead of my feet to thud to the ground first. my heart dropped, as i am still sustaining a knee injury which has lasted for several months.

last Tuesday, i almost fell face first while dancing. the person i was dancing with apologized profusely. i hugged him and told him, but if we don't take risks in dance, then why should we dance? when people tell me i am an innovative dancer, it's a huge compliment. but i told J last night, the biggest compliment i have ever received about dance had nothing to do with my ability or aesthetic. a girl came up to me some months ago and told me that no matter what, whether i am dancing or not dancing, i look like i am having a great time. and that means more to me than anything.

we push ourselves every day. the limit of our bodies is the limit imposed by our minds. the lighter i believe i am, the lighter i become.

---

i read this article today, and i felt this extraordinary power from the thoughts that it invoked. Gold medalist Nastia Liukin, after her fall and after not making it to the Olympic team, wrote this online:
Thank you to the 18,000 people that gave me a standing ovation tonight. I will remember this moment for the rest of my life.

Not a negative word, not a complaint, but just gratitude. It fills me with this incredible awe of the human spirit. The article is below, and a video I found of her incredible bravery.


By Christine Brennan, USA TODAY


Why we love the Olympic Games is why some can't stand the pressure of getting to them. Yet every four years, they try, over and over again.


Dara Torres makes it look so easy; she has been to the Olympics five times: 1984, 1988, 1992, 2000 and 2008, and if she finishes in the two top tonight in Omaha, she will make her sixth team, a record for a U.S. swimmer. She had made three of those Olympic teams before budding 17-year-old superstar Missy Franklin was born.


On Sunday, in the same half-hour that Torres — a 45-year-old, 12-time Olympic medalist — qualified third-fastest in the 50-meter freestyle at the 2012 U.S. swimming trials, 22-year-old 2008 Olympic women's gymnastics all-around gold medalist Nastia Liukin thudded to the mats, face first, when her hands gave way on the uneven bars, which had always been one of her specialties.


That very same evening, 31-year-old swimmer Anthony Ervin returned after a 12-year absence to make the U.S. team in the men's 50 freestyle, while 18-year-old gymnast Rebecca Bross, competing with a gruesome scar snaking along her right kneecap, made three mistakes on the bars, including one devastating fall, to ensure that she would not be going to London.


We think everything's possible at any age these days. Women giving birth in their late 40s or early 50s. A former president, George H.W. Bush, sky-diving to celebrate his 85th birthday. Tom Watson nearly winning the British Open in 2009 at 59. Pitcher Jamie Moyer winning major league baseball games in his late 40s.


And, Torres perhaps on the verge of making another Olympic team 28 years after she made her first.


Before she arrived in Omaha for the trials, she said in a phone interview that she couldn't feel better — or more uncertain — about what she was about to do. Those two contrasting thoughts made perfect sense to her.


"I feel pretty good," she said. "I have no idea how I'm going to do. I have had some good meets and some not-so-good meets. But I'm going to be the best I can possibly be and I know age is my ally."


After qualifying for tonight's final, Torres was appropriately pleased. "It's a totally different approach than I had when I was 17, at my first Olympics. It's much tougher. People said I was middle-aged at 41, but I'm really, really middle-aged now."


Even though she has hardly had it easy, undergoing intricate shoulder and knee surgeries after her three silver-medal-winning performance at the Beijing Games, Torres is everything that the "older" gymnasts could not be. Even though they are less than half Torres' age, they found themselves betrayed by time and their bodies in a sport that often places elite athletes on the discard pile before they graduate from high school.


A 13-minute span Sunday night in San Jose was especially devastating to two of the sport's recent stars. Liukin, attempting a late comeback after enjoying the spoils of victory for several years after Beijing, gamely continued with her routine after her jarring full-body slam when her hands couldn't hold onto the bar. She finished proudly, never shedding a tear. Later, she performed a flawless balance beam routine and then sent off members of the 2012 Olympic team — the team she did not make — with words of support and wisdom.


Gymnastics is part sport, part high-wire act, and Liukin was not the only gymnast who fell Sunday night. After Bross' third miscue, her coach, Valeri Liukin — Nastia's father — told her it was time to stop, and it was then that her hopes to make an Olympic team ended, likely forever. Bross has a bushel-barrel of world championship medals but had never made an Olympic team, hampered by injuries in 2008 and again this time. Because gymnastics favors the tiniest, youngest, most nimble bodies, Bross is almost certain to never have another chance.


It's by the nature of what they do, trying for the pinnacle of their sport every four years, not every year, that Olympians develop a stunning sense of perspective. And so it was with Liukin.


"I was at the peak of my career four years ago," she said, "and if anybody would have ever told me in 2008 that you would have been competing in the 2012 Olympic trials, I probably wouldn't have believed them."


Just being there, it turns out, was a victory in itself.

as i struggled through my 12th iteration of chaturanga in yoga class, the instructor passed by with her shirt proclaiming:"it never gets easier, you just get better."


--

clemente called me out. we athletes just want a workout. i do extra pushups in yoga class just to get my workout in. and he called me out. that's not what yoga is about. he talked about how military force has conquered nations, and we think we can conquer our bodies using the same force. but we can't! how many casualties do we encounter, nay, cause, along the way?

life, this is life.
dis-ease vs ease
we push our bodies thinking that's how we get ahead
and we get injured, and we push on,
and we get tired, and we push on
and we get cranky, and we push on

but what of peace?
what of respect?
what of stillness?