Namaste

So, the slightly sore spot on the tendon in the back of my thigh is getting a little bit harder to ignore. My PT friend (also my Relief Society president and an erstwhile running buddy) gave me some stretches to help. But she told me that I'd have to run for 10-15 minutes to get it really warm and then take 10-15 minutes to stretch it. I'm sorry, dear Rachelle, but if I'm running outside with the kids, there's no way I'm going to stop in the middle of the subdivision for all of the moms buzzing by with loads of kids on their way to school to stare at me as I wave my butt in the air for fifteen minutes. So this morning I decided to turn to yoga for help. The plan (tentative) is that I'll try to run four days a week and balance it out with two days of yoga. For me, running equals cake. And I really like cake. So unless the pain in my leg becomes unbearable, I'll still be running for cake.

If I could burn a zillion calories while doing yoga I'd do it every day. I feel good and strong and love the way my body starts to look leaner after a few weeks of practice. But the competitive side of me (and that's a big side) has a really hard time with yoga. I love to push myself, which is a big part of why I became a runner and while that's possible with yoga, every time I go to a class or do a yoga video (doing Bryan Kest's Power Yoga now, which is great, by the way), it seems like the emphasis is always on breathing and being in tune with your body. I always want to get in there and prove to myself that I can hold a position longer and stretch deeper and feel the burn better than I did the last time. During the stretches where we hold a pose for a long time, I always find myself totally focusing on something else (like the genesis of this blog entry), and somewhere in the background I can hear, but I'm not really listening to, the voice of the instructor telling us that we're doing it best if we're really experiencing the stretch.

When I'm lying on the ground at the end of yoga class and we're supposed to be meditating, I'm often mentally already in my car and halfway home, planning dinner and deciding what I'm going to do that evening. Sometimes I'll look at other people out of the corner of my eye and wonder if they're really feeling calm, really clearing their minds of all of the day's accumulated clutter, or if they're more like me, wondering how long they have to spend on the freezing, foot-smelling floor before they can dust themselves off, put their shoes on, and go home. But they look so peaceful lying there that I usually give them the benefit of the doubt. And yoga practice isn't the only time when I find my mind wandering when I should be focusing on feeling rather than thinking.

Today it struck me that my attitude toward yoga is a lot like my attitude toward church. I go through the motions, do all of the poses, even try to push myself to do better than I have before. But I have a lot to work on when it comes to finding inner peace. Ever since I joined the Church, I've had a hard time focusing during the sacrament. Other people's heads would be bowed in concentration (and I'd notice that, because I'd be cataloging what those people were wearing) but I'd have a hard time settling in and being still, in trying to feel. Of course, I haven't experienced much reflection during the sacrament for more than five years now, but I couldn't quiet my mind even before I had the distraction of kids. Unless I'm on my knees, talking out loud, my prayers often drift off into the oblivion of my thoughts. I'm not good at being still. As an experiment, my friend Sarah sat on a rock and did nothing for four hours a few months ago and said she learned a lot about herself. I'm pretty sure I couldn't last 15 minutes.

But just like I think that the other people in my yoga class are totally feeling the tranquility that I can't tap into, I also think that everyone at church is able to feel the Spirit a lot more easily than I do. Maybe I'm right and the cynical side of me pushes it away. But maybe the people who look like they're totally in the groove during the sacrament are really making grocery lists (with their eyes closed) or replaying the game from the night before or even taking a little snooze.

Anyway, I felt it today. About 25 minutes into the video I realized that my mind was clear, my breathing was deep, and I was doing the tricky balancing poses even though Isaac was attempting to wrap himself around my leg as I stood like a stork with my hands in prayer position. By the time the video ended 20 minutes later, I was really looking forward to the chance I'd have to just lie there and feel, and not really think. I know it was probably just beginner's luck (just like it seems a lot harder to summon up the Spirit now than it did in my early days as a member of the Church), but it's definitely enough to keep me coming back for more.

--originally published 1/07/06