Thursday, October 6, 2011

A Lesson on Gratitude from a Yogi that Teaches Indoor Classes in Outside Voices

It is no secret that I will try any fitness discipline. It wasn't always this way. It wasn't until about one year ago that I finally gave in and "tried" yoga. Convinced that a yoga practice was not a good fit for my high intensity, endurance athlete workout personality I wrote it off for years. My first class went surprisingly well. I have natural flexibility and balance developed through years of dance. I was in no way flowing through a series of advanced poses like a pro, but my body and my muscles and most importantly my spirit were responding to the practice like a drink of cold water after a hot summer run.

Don't get ahead of yourself. I am not going to go "find myself" in India and return to open a Yoga studio, wear toe socks, and burn incense. I hate incense.

More than inspiring a rigorous practice, Yoga has increased my receptivity to all fitness disciplines. This week I am trying CrossFit for the first time, and I am totally scared out of my mind.

After my introduction, I was on a roll. I was attending class two or three times a week. It was keeping me stretchy and sane a midst the roller coaster of emotions of injury induced depression after plantar fasciitis benched me from running for the first time in seven years. Although I attached no specific goals to my practice, I was noticing improvements. Poses that were once awkward seemed natural. Then about two months ago, I let my Yoga practice disappear from my schedule. My stress immediately returned, but as more time passed the thought of having to retrain my body seemed to only add to my frustrations.

Two weeks ago I returned to my practice. It was disgusting. I could feel every imbalance and knot in body. Luckily, my only goal for the class was to show up, and stay the entire time. The class was the Monday night class taught by Jen at Prairie Life in Midtown. When I showed up for class, and then again afterward, Jen told me that she was honored that I came to her class. I did not immediately register the impact that such a simple statement of gratitude had on me. I apologized for the sad state of my practice, and thanked her generously for "putting up with me." The fact that someone would be honored by my presence at a class seemed silly. At my best, I am nowhere near the best. I am a runner, not a Yogi. All arguments aside, those kind words motivated me to take two more classes that week, and two the following week. I am starting to get my stretch back. Whoop!

It is easy to forget to be thankful for the people who choose to spend their time with us. I am stretched pretty thin myself, and the things I do, and company I keep are important enough to make time for. Jen's gratitude was a reminder to be thankful and honored by the time others give to me.

Thanks you Jen, for reaching out to me with your simple words of gratitude. Your kindness was powerful enough to reinvigorate my much needed yoga practice and inspire gratitude within my own spirit.

p.s. I promise next time I come to your class I will work extra hard to lengthen my hamstrings on my downward dog so I don't have to readjust my hands when I flow into plank. Someday, I will master the basics.
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About Sam

I am a writer in Omaha, Nebraska sharing my adventures in the foundations of healthy living - nutrition, being active, and being funny.

I was born in Kansas City in the sweltering summer of July, 1986. I was nearly born in the car because I was so pumped to get my life started. I have been bouncing off of the walls ever since. Growing up I hung out with the big kids who were even older than my sister (and best friend) Allie. I quickly developed an "I'm over it" 'tude toward kids my own age whose pastimes seemed juvenile - an interesting perspective coming from a preschooler. My snobbish worldview was hard earned however, as I was forced to learn both multiplication and division early to keep up when we played "school," and I was always forced to do dangerous stuff first to make sure it was okay, like eating unidentified berries and making the first run on super steep hills while sledding. We biked all day, ate wild honeysuckle, painted the house with mud, and collected cicada shells for no reason other than they stick to fabric and freaked my mom out.

I quickly realized that even little legs can get you as far as a car can, and as a young child, you really have nothing but time. My adventures were only restrained by the fact that adults do not find it acceptable for young children to explore the town on foot unaccompanied. I prematurely developed a desire to be an independent self-supporting person, so I opened a Kool-Aid/popcorn business to finance my big plans. Looking back, I would say that the only issues holding me back were my limited advertising budget and the fact that I was still too short to ride roller coasters. People just don't take you seriously when you can't go on the upside-down rides.

I was moved to Omaha in the second grade. I continued walking all over the place, exploring surrounding neighborhoods and visiting grocery stores to pick up my favorites: Goldfish, Sprite, and sugar cigarettes. I don't even think you can buy those anymore, and for the record, I never started smoking.

I never lost my hard work ethic, and I needed to increase my income to afford my new hobbies of beading and Polaroid photography. At the age of ten I mailed in a response to an advertisement for paper delivery routes without discussing the issue with my family. Sometimes you need to take matters into your own hands when people don't share you vision. The people at the Omaha World Herald must have had a good feeling about me becuase they contacted my parents to tell them that they wanted to hire me but would feel better if there was an older family member onboard. I still wonder if Allie holds any resentment toward me for pulling her into the labor force when she was only twelve.

In third grade, I followed Allie's lead and began taking dance classes at Mary Lorraine's Dance Center. For the next eleven years it became "what I did." Nowadays, I train more like an athlete, but I will always move like a dancer, and being in a studio will always feel like home.

After high school I relocated again (this time of my own volition) to study "everything" in the College of Business Administration at the University of Nebraska - Lincoln. I acquired a degree in marketing and finance that I may use someday. More importantly, I became a close friend and Alpha Phi sister with a cross country runner who easily persuaded me to train for the 2005 Lincoln half-marathon. I have been running ever since. In April 2011 I developed plantar fasciitis after jumping into an intense 50-70 mile/week schedule. This is the first athletic injury in my life. Although it has been indescribably frustrating both physically and emotionally, the silver lining is my increased receptivity to more variety in fitness disciplines.

I enjoy Pilates, yoga, enjoy Zumba, plyometric interval training, running, walking, and seeing how quickly I can run up stairs without losing my lunch. When I am too exhausted to move, I read and write. I love fiction, non-fiction, cookbooks, poetry, philosophy, song lyrics, and comedy. I have been writing for as long as I can remember. I love spell check, and felt tip pens.

I am happy and optimistic most of the time. I enjoy living simply and deeply. I hope you enjoy what I have to share.







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