Finding flow

I did yoga on Sunday, for the first time in a loooong time. Like yank my yoga mat out from where it was leveling out my TV stand kind of long. Or even show up to Bikram wearing spilt shorts kind of long.

As you can gather, I am not a yoga person. If asked to describe my perfect workout it would be a long, sunny and usually solo run. You see, like so many of runners, I am a self described running junkie, or used to be BB (before baby).

I took it all very seriously, my shoes, my races, my PRs and mostly my weekly mileage. If I wasn’t running then I wasn’t a runner and then (GASP) if I wasn’t a runner … who was I. These days my racing is a bit limited - in fact, the only thing that seems to be racing right now is my free time. Anyone with a child knows that once you open that specific pandoras box, especially in the beginning, you lose more than a bit of personal freedom. And moreover what once was a given is now a luxury (a happy trade off of course) but a luxury nonetheless. So instead of long indulgent runs that left me feeling clean and renewed and exhausted, I’m kept on a short leash where I happily plod along, grateful to be ticking off a handful of minutes or miles.

The trade off is a beautiful ball of energy that happily keeps me sprinting around the house in what surely will be the most wild and AWESOMELY challenging race sprint of my life. Parenthood is every cliche they say … but my favorite is that it’s the absolute best.

Regardless, back when I was still self categorizing as a “serious” runner (so tough on myself right) I was often told that I should supplement my miles with a bit of yoga; it would help break up routine and avoid injury. But like most runners who not only crave pushing the pace, but to FEEL tangible “results” from that work, yoga seemed like a glorified nap. Yes it was all about being present and toning though repition, but wasn’t I present as I zoned out during my 10K speed work. And didn’t the constant churn and burn of my legs tone enough. Going slow in order to get ahead seemed counter intuitive.

So I’d bob my head, turn on my heel and effectively disregard the advice of those who clearly had a more balance running regiment then I.

But that was then…

These days things have changed a bit and my gate isn’t the only thing affected. The balancing act that is parenting, has allowed me to practice something else equally as important - self acceptance. I have learned to accept the slower pace, I have also learned to accept the necessity for things like an extra hour of sleep after a night with a teething ten month old, and a 20 minute run in place of a two hour one so that I can actually wash my hair before my 9A meetings. The net net is I’ve had to accept a LOT of change when it comes the whens/wheres/ whys and HOWS of my running.

Yet with this new change, also comes new found freedom. Reframing my mindset has meant I could now make room for the occasional barre class, shred or even soul cycle. There was only one last threshold to cross before I could count myself a cross-trainer, that was yoga.

Maybe it was the deliberateness of it all or the sense that the long legged ladies leading class had a diet cleaner than my house, but I felt wrong walking in. I felt they could tell my yoga pants weren’t Lululemon but instead a running tight masquerading as it. I felt awkward adjusting my mat and fumbling with blocks. I could barely remember tree pose let alone figure out what to do with all the Fifty Shade paraphernalia next to me. Luckily just then the instructor breezed through the door and with a single wave of her hand, a dimming of the lights, a deep breath in … I began to unwind.

I noticed things. The beads of sweat on my shoulders. The way my left hip struggled with flexibility and how the less I forced the positions the easier I flowed from one to another. By the end of the class I was deep into my practice - slow breathing and all. I found myself focused on the very muscles I used in my daily runs and whats more I found myself enjoying the process of pushing a new direction - down. And as I dug in with my toes and heels, I found new strength in grounding. I began to carve out a deeper reserve, a new physical well to dredge from and dip into. This time instead of feeling depleted - I felt full. And as she closed out class with silent intentions I knew what mine would be.

Flexibility; and it was just the metaphorical adjustment I was so clearly needing. From a more grounded vantage point I was able to breath deeply and (finally) focus on my muscles in the indulgent way I had missed so much. If the world was trying to tell me something then this class was the not so subtle hint. Be flexible. Learn to adapt and adjust in real time. And enjoy a new perspective every once in a while.

Laying on the ground, covered in sweat and grateful, I realized that sometimes I needed to slow things down if I wanted to make any real progress.