Own Your Backbone

It's a mystery to me

2012-02-20T20:51:00.000-05:00

Why haven't you decided to follow me on my new blog?

I ponder the notion.

If you already do, half of me begs your forgiveness for this (perhaps) annoying little post.

The other half of me is sweeping the cat hair off my floor with my hair.

Oh, yeah - that's a standing forward bend.

Whatever it is, please do it with me over at http://www.marrymeyoga.wordpress.com/!

There's a new post.

Strap one on

2012-02-17T21:09:00.000-05:00

Check out this post www.marrymeyoga.wordpress.com

New Address

2012-02-15T07:31:00.000-05:00

Friends,

I have been considering using wordpress to host my blog. I decided in the process to retool and focus my intentions for my blog. The process bore a new blog with a new address. Own Your Backbone lives on for a while as I transition to my new digs.

Wordpress (thankfully) does not allow you to tranfer followers from one blog to another. Makes perfect sense. As I build my base I would so appreciate your considering following me at:

marrymeyoga

Thanks and I look forward to 'seeing' you around the blogosphere. Have a wonderful/happy day!

Clair

Carole King and Pit Bull: An uncommon good

2012-02-01T19:23:00.003-05:00

What can Carole King and Pitbull possibly have in common?

She croons about the earth moving: He's the International Love:

I feel the earth move under my feet You put it down like New York City

I feel the sky tumbing down I never sleep, wild like Los Angeles

I feel my heart start to tremblin' My fantasy, hotter than Miami

Whenever you're around. I feel the heat

Oh Miss International Love

On February 11, from the East Coast to the West and all over the world, people everywhere are showing International Love. From Turkey to Tokyo to Cairo. From Virginia, to Florida to Montana to Colorado to Ohio to Iowa - We are moving the earth under our feet, running for Sherry Arnold. Simultaneously, in complete synchronicity at 9 a.m. (Mountain Time) thousands of people are dedicating their routes to this amazing teacher, wife, mother, daughter, friend and cousin to my Beth. On January 7, Sherry left for her usual run and has not been seen since. She is presumed dead and two foul, disgusting people are being held in custody for her random murder. A husband, a parent, a sister, daughter, a son, family, a country, the world is deeply saddened. But even the most repulsive evil can't stop the earth from moving in love and support for all those so deeply effected by the unspeakable tragedy. Run, walk, jog, roller blade, skate, dance skip, cartwheel for Sherry and her family on February 11.

Can we light up the world with international healing love?

Can we make a difference and stop the poison from spreading?

HELL YES, WE CAN.

GOOD IS BETTER THAN EVIL.

WE WILL SHOW THOSE #+@** WHO WINS.

How, you say?!

Move the earth under your feet, baby. Feb. 11 at 9 a.m (MT).

Run for Sherry.

That's right. I'm talking to you.

Be a part of the healing. Not the hurt.

Indulge me this little satisfaction: In the town of Biliston (sp.?) where the SOB's are being held, a huge contingency of runners (aka healers) are moving the earth right near the prison, running right on by for Sherry. Take that, you scum. We win.

We all love you Sherry. We love you Sidney, Montana. Can you feel it? You will. We're moving the earth for you, internationally sending healing love.

If you are in Richmond or Goochland, contact me and I'll hook you up with a bib and deets on where we're putting down 5 miles for Sherry. Join us or just wear the bib on your own run.

I'm not smiling

2012-01-29T09:02:00.001-05:00

Warning: This post contains a number of pictures of me. I'm not in love with myself. I am on a mission to spread the Gospel of Sunscreen. This Truth can save you from face hell. I am clawing my way up, but it has been no fun down here.

I'm not smiling, because I can't. Think: Mrs. Doubtfire. She can't fully emote because her meringue (uhh, make-up) will come off.

I wish my carac ointment tasted like pie. I wish I could open my mouth that wide. (TWSS)

I am in week 4 of a chemotherapy cream treatment to remove a number of AK's or precancerous cells from my face. I have had 4 Mohs (2-forehead, 1-scalp, 1-collarbone) surgeries to remove full-on squamous cell carcinomas. I am writing about this experience to vent a little, communicate perspective I have gained and to encourage regular use of sunscreen.

The experience. There are many aspects to this.

applying a cream that can burn layers off your face onto new fresh raw skin every morning. (Cuss, anyone?)
watching as my face progress to gross
deal with children in public call me "Creepy"

I realize this is temporary means to a healthy end and that people have it much worse and that essentially I will have undergone a chemical peel and will look a decade younger when I am done. (Don't be jealous.)

Kim Cattrall, Sex in the City - did you see that episode?

But, In general I have felt like a prisoner of my face for a month.

Here's the rub, pun intended: I was/am not a sun-worshipper. I like a healthy, sun-kissed look and had a couple of Cancun sunburns in college. But I never could sit still long enough to 'work on my tan'. My tan, however did work on me.

This morning.

I have used sunscreen everyday now for a number of years. You can be sure, it is my mantra from now on; most especially with my children. THE DAMAGE IS REALLY DONE WHEN YOU ARE YOUNG.

Certainly, I haven't been able to stop working, teaching Yoga or running my children (the nanny is in Aruba) so it's been interesting to say the least. BTW, I look good in these photos. It was alot worse, a creepy mess.

Before a Bikram Class, yesterday. The lipstick makes me feel better.

And so... I go to the doctor on Tuesday to see if any yucky spots are left that need surgery. My skin will heal. My children and I have forgotten what I used to look like when they let me come to the bus stop. They like me to stay at the front door for now. It's very, very temporary and a relatively short span of time. Not like real burn victims who undergo months and months of painful treatment. Every time I get called creepy and want to cuss as I apply the medicine I send healing energy to the burn unit 25 miles away where a young boy, a hero who saved his best friend in fire recovers from his burns.

I will be back at the bus stop soon. Smiling because I can.

The Perfect Night

2011-12-21T00:11:00.000-05:00

For a few minutes this evening, I had the Perfect Night. I had just returned from teaching a Yoga class at the Y and my house was empty. Perfection. It is rare that I am in my home alone. I crave solitude in the space where I live because most of the time the 3 children, 4 animals, 1 husband and my neurosis make a lot of noise and take up a lot of space. Not tonight.

Peace invoked. Check. (Om Shanti!)
Wine poured. Check. (Om Shanti, Shanti!)
Silly Lifetime Drama on boob tube. Check. (Om Shanti, Shanti, Shanti!)

Amidst my PMS, frustration over the state of laundry, and my martyrdom (I am the only one who cares about our surroundings, blah, blah, blah) - I found bliss. Why? I wonder. I know why.

I AM PREGNANT. WITH HOPE. Hope for long lasting peace and contentedness. Hope for a deeper daily connection with The Divine. I rubbed my belly and was lit up with the moment. The only thing we have. The only thing that's real. I'm naming her Hope. Mary must have had The Perfect Night too. She was truly pregnant with our Hope. She was not drinking Pinot Grigio, I suspect but having a baby in a barn may have led her to.

I'm happy because I don't live or birth baby's in a barn. Thank you!!

I did birth these nuggets and I am so pregnant with hope for them.

I don't even notice the dirty unmatched socks on the kitchen floor. It was the Perfect Night. In honor the the Perfect Night of over 2000 years ago, I think I'll do a camel. (I'm sure there was one nearby.)

My dog loves me!

What are you pregnant with?

Baby Got Back! Mary #2 Review

2011-12-04T22:03:00.000-05:00

Having a hissy fit? Do the Yoga.
Feeling fat? Do the Yoga
DePuffing? Do the Yoga.
Even you bony-ass skinny people, Do the Yoga.

She sang my song yesterday. All. Day. Long. The Mary Jarvis Event did not disappoint. Though it was not much different than the workshop I attended in Annapolis, I still couldn't get enough. Even after seconds. I'm still hungry for the Yoga. The heat. The community and the love.

Mary sprinkled the class and posture clinic with anecdotes and philosophy and bits from her life - one you felt you'd shared for much longer than 90 minutes. Or wish you had. She inspired me to be a kinder more compassionate person and convinced me that backbends would help. I know it to be so. There are clinical studies that prove the physiological benefits of backward bending. I have started and stopped a regimen of backbending a number of times. Starting 12/5 I am going to do 10 backbends a day for 10 days and document my experience.

Yoga is for everybody. It makes you nicer. It definitely makes you healthier and it might save your marriage or your life. It is accessible all the time. Hopefully I'll feel as inspired tomorrow when I need to bend over backwards literally and just because.

Today was a perfect day. I spent it with her:

Mass. Lunch. New Yoga Studio Tour. Running in to a dear friend whom I love (hi, Laura!). Pottery studio for ornament painting. Moving renting/watching. Dinner. Hanging out at home alone. The rest of the family was otherwise occupied for the entire day. We took full advantage of our one on one. I love this little muffin with and without the backbends. If backbending makes it better, it's much, much more than I deserve!

Thank you for all my many blessings.

Mary-Mary, Damn Ugly and 9

2011-12-03T08:36:00.000-05:00

Today I am going to my second once in a life-time opportunity to work with Mary Jarvis of Bikram Yoga fame. Almost two years ago I attended a MJ (not the crooner whom we know I love) workshop in Annapolis, MD.

One of my favorite quotes from that day was:

"It smells like a cat box in here (the 107 degree room) because we expect you to leave your shit in it."

I can't wait for today's pearls of wisdom which I will surely share. Here's my new outfit for the occasion.:

I don't love it. I am usually very choosy about my yoga threads but this was at Dick's, on sale and I was in a hurry. I don't know why I care because we will be sandwiched in a room with inches between mats and dodging body parts as we move through poses. It will be fun and rigorous and entertaining and life-change like Mary #1 in Maryland. But it won't be pretty.

Feeling pretty has evaded my 11-year-old daughter of late and it makes me sad. Here's Wednesday night:

Kathleen: Mom, why am I not pretty?

Me: (sympathetic and so sorry she knows not what I see in her) Honey, I can't talk you out of this feeling. It's normal at your age to have your groove on one day and then feel ugly the next. One day you'll feel more balanced but you always need to feel pretty inside and out.

Kathleen: But I'm not.

Me: (trying to convince her otherwise) Oh, honey. Yes you are. You have no idea. It's normal to feel awkward sometimes at your age but don't let this feeling get out of hand. Let's keep talking about it when it comes over you. Just have faith in all your gifts inside and out.

Kathleen: But I'm not pretty.

Me: (Getting impatient) Remember that time Bridget's Mom said you had this intense beauty that she couldn't describe? She's not even related and said that out of the blue.

Kathleen: Kinda. But why am I ugly?

Me: (Done.) FOR GOD'S SAKE CHILD... LOOK IN THE MIRROR, THERE ARE SOME DAMN UGLY PEOPLE IN THE WORLD AND YOU AREN'T ONE OF THEM.

Now that's a pearl of wisdom. What a good mother I am.

And now for 9. I don't feel pretty either because 9 is the number of pounds I have gained since my last Mary Jarvis workshop. Not a good thing for someone with a lifelong body image problem. No matter what people say I feel damn ugly lugging that 9 around. I know how my daughter feels...

My lesson: Find your own sweet spot of gratitude and confidence, be patient and only listen to other people with it uplifts you. Otherwise it belongs in the cat box located in the hot room where I am shortly headed.

Hey maybe I will leave my 9 in there. Look out 9! You. Are. Going. Down.

What's your pearl of wisom?

Buck and Bonk: Race Report

2011-11-13T14:27:00.000-05:00

The best part of my half marathon yesterday was my hair. Doesn't it look good?

I'll take the mystery out: I bonked, my Buck husband kicked ass. First half in a sub 2. Go ahead leave my lonely little blog and find something else more exciting to do. For all the faithfuls here are the deets.

I was excited at first.

I woke up had a banana and toast and a little coffee. I followed a comparatively light training plan this time but didn't cheat at all. Additionally, I had taught a fair amount of Yoga and other Cardio classes during training so I thought I was all that. I was relaxed and felt strong. Yesterday morning we couldn't find a parking spot, of course, and I needed the porta potty as soon as we got downtown. With 6 miles to Empty (in the car) we pulled into a spot (that I was sure was illegal but I wasn't telling my panicking husband) with 12 minutes to start, a full bladder and 4 blocks to walk. I forewent a potty stop, waved good bye to my newbie halfer husband and found my wave. Cold (37 degrees, you see my outfit?) and full bladder I am ray-to-go.

In the beginning I felt amazingly good despite my frozen skin and elimination needs. It had to be the pigtails. After leaving lots of people in my dust I saw a port- a-potty at mile 3 and took advantage. I have never used the facilities during a race - even my 5 hour marathon. Then I got back on track and it took about 2 miles for me to catch up to and pass the pack I started with. I AM the badass I liken myself to be. Around mile 9 I just bonked. I have never had that all-at-once break down experience. It was like a fast leak out of a tight raft in rough waters. I began to panic and felt confused, honestly/really couldn't figure out why it happened. This was my 5th half marathon so I know a little about how to fuel/etc. Weird. So I surrendered to my race and my day and the state of things. I took a shot of beer at the 9 mile fueling station, also a first. I didn't stop running but I was running on nearly empty - simply out of gas. For 4 miles I clawed at the proverbial wall and never got over it. I did fight however and crossed the finish line at a decent stride to see my long since finished husband who after a slice of pizza and a banana was on his second bagel. Had I taken much longer, he'd have stayed for lunch. Oh wait, that was lunch.

Mike is a powerfully built weekend warrior kind of athlete who played baseball in college and has remained in shape with recreational running. He has several 10k's under his belt. He - no surprise to me - finished his first half marathon in 1:57:23 at age 46. He is tenacious and focused and it has always served him well in athletics. He can block everything out and just keep his focus like no one I've ever seen. He flies under the radar and doesn't even talk about his goals with fitness. He just does it. Sound familiar, Nike? He should be your spokesperson. Me - after 2:16 on the course I almost threw up walking to the car. I couldn't feel my legs and had no mental acuity whatsoever. And I was hungry. Because I am selfless and thinking about my faithful blog readers (thanks, you 2) I had our waitress at the diner take our photo to mark the moment.

Doesn't my hair look good?

Somebody help me. How do I not bonk next time? I'm running a full int he Spring.

The eyes have it

2011-11-11T08:31:00.000-05:00

Much to my dismay, my daughter asked me if she could try out for her middle school cheer leading squad. I mean no offense to anyone who has or does cheer (I did). Gloria Steinam I am not, but I have a little 'thang' inside about girls going ga-ga over the athletic accomplishment of guys.

In all her glory, here's Gloria:

"A woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle."

- Gloria Steinem

My daughter campaigned her cause and wore me down. She helped me see that my 43-year old view of the world doesn't match an 11-year old trying to find her way. "It's just fun.", she says. As long as it's moral, legal, and has some value to the development of her I should consider it. In the end I let her do it. She learned cheers and stunts and jumps and moves and today she tries out. And I want her to make it. I understand that cheerleaders are athletes and that the stereotype of pretty, popular, and petite and perhaps a bit sassy doesn't have to apply. I just couldn't ignore my 'issue' with the proliferation of the notion that girls stand behind guys to let THEM shine. The old SHE's the secretary, HE's the boss gender role play.

My pal, Gloria also says:

"A movement is only composed of people moving. To feel its warmth and motion around us is the end as well as the means."

And so school spirit, enthusiasm and strategy on my daughter's part won out. And I'm glad. I told her to shine from the inside out today and the rest will take care of itself. Sounds a big Yogic. Yoga meets cheer leading. Who knew?

She was exhausted from her tryouts, school responsibilities, dance class and just being 11. Here's last night:

My diva daughters surrendering to sleep. Bliss.

Tomorrow my husband and I run the Suntrust Richmond Half Marathon (his first). Hanging back and letting him shine won't be hard - he's fast! But I'd do it anyway not because I am weak or pretty or popular or petite (God knows!) It's just fun. And it's just nice. Go Kathleen!

I got in the car with a stranger

2011-10-09T17:55:00.001-04:00

I just read Room by Emma Donoghue and should’ve known better. Your mother, your teacher and your priest warned you: Never get into the car with a stranger. Whether they claim to have sick pet, or a trunk load of M &M’s. There’s never a good enough reason. I know that but I was beyond reason yesterday. 8.5 miles into a 9 mile run that turned out to be more than 12 – I WAS LOST AND NEEDED HELP – FROM A STRANGER.

I was at a softball tournament and needed to get a 9-mile run in for my half marathon training. I wanted to do ten because that’s just me. During a break between games I laced up. I did not know the area at all but I had my Garmin and my GU and my GPA so I was all set. I don’t run with my cell phone because I hate the drag across my belly. I was cruising along through neighborhoods with trails and ended up running around this lake:

Pretty nice. I had the feeling: “This is why I run.” Total self-sufficiency. Almost. At this sailing club I was at 5 miles and decided to turn around and head back to the field. (Remember the GPA? 5+5=10, brilliant) Around mile 8.3 nothing looked familiar and I worried I’d get killed on a busy curvy road where drivers have NO RESPECT for runners. I had little mental acuity left and began traipsing through a stranger’s yard. I was birthed into a unrecognized cul de sac. I started to panic but encountered a 70+ lady retrieving her mail.

This is not her but it’s close. Difference: My stranger didn’t have many upper, front teeth.

Me: “Please excuse me, I don’t mean to startle you, (event though all I am wearing is a sports bra, shorts, and a Garmin) but I don’t live around here and I think I am lost. Could you tell me how to get back out to Genito Road.”

Stranger: “Oh Lord child, you are so out of your way I couldn’t begin to tell you. Where are you trying to get to?” (Dangling participle, not my GPA)

Me: (without any acuity and a slight panic attack starting) “Goodness, I don’t know how I got so turned around, my daughter’s tournament is at Warbro Sports Complex.”

Stranger: Let me go get my car, I’ll drive you.

This is what oozed out of her three-car garage:

For the missing teeth, she spat as she spoke but offered me ice water and regaled me with stories about her artificial knees. We found our way to a church parking lot where I knew I could find my way back to the field from. (Dangling participle, no more GPA left.)

I made it. 12.4 miles – on my legs - later (over achiever). A little zoned out, I really wanted a beer to calm me down. This stranger was an angel. A sweet nice old lady without free candy or ulterior motives. Just kindness for me. I’ll take it. Then I got to see her:

My stranger (angel) in a car was the ticket. Would you get into a car with a stranger? This time, thank God I did.

George is my mother and heavy mettle

2011-09-23T19:05:00.001-04:00

Last night I woke up after a fitful few hours sleep, got up to check on my son’s bad dream and crawled back in bed to my usual awaiting partner:. George.

This doggone cat loves me and I hate cats. We got him 5 years ago when I found a snake in my kitchen because we thought it would ward off skinny slithery things with tongues. My children fell in love with him (so did I) and their petless selves suddenly had something furry to love. He wasn’t leaving. Now he doesn’t leave me. It’s ironic because I am known to hate pussy’s. Scared of them, bad dreams about them, run the other way when I see them kind of abhorrence. Miracles never cease, I now have 2 feline frolickers. But my husband said something last night that struck me. As I climbed back into bed he says:

'”That damn cat loves you. I think he is your mother.”

I lost my mother almost 15 years ago and life is so hard without her. Sure the day-to-day is easier and I have a lot wonderful things going on but I miss her to the core and life will never, ever be the same without her. I have tried to make it so for 15 years but I have not the mettle. But I do have George and a heartbreakingly loyal and supportive network of people she is certainly influencing to come my way. Like, Amy (who has the spirits in her) and yoga and God and my children and my faith and yes, my pussy George. Thank you Lord for my pussy and my mother:

Here, have a tree pose:

I am a dancer (pose):

I have heavy mettle.

I am a big person. I wondered recently if I should enter races in the Athena division to place better in my age group. I really am not that competitive. But I pondered the Athena category because it’s about accepting who you are – perhaps not built like a runner but I run nonetheless. I am not a pussy (I have one, feline). I have mettle. I have bootstrapped myself from a number of things as have all of us. At the end of the day I am most blessed because I have my mother to cuddle with every night – even if she is white and furry.

What’s your mettle about?

Triggers

2011-09-16T11:24:00.000-04:00

I started putting together a 'day in the life' post because I love to read them. I want to know how your day started, what your barista at Starbuck's regaled you with and if you read blogs at work. I want to know if your run was good, what you created for lunch and if your family showed you the appreciation you deserve. We are after all one human family even if we've never met.

A day in my life is like any other. Unless I have one of the biggies (a death, birth, travel, doctors, PR, awards, or winning the lottery) most days are the same. As are we. It's my perspective. Which right now is for crap because of this:

My daughter's room

And this:

These are triggers that put my perspective in the commode. I will NOT clean my girls' room any more. They will do NOTHING when they get home from school until that room is neat and picked up. I left the towel on the floor because I am sick and tired of picking up other people's crap. Whereas I can usually find the sacred in the mundane and see light in the dark, today I left the house feeling like this:

Irritated and unappreciated.

Until I had my coffee date with Megan. She always lifts my spirits. Megan has a calming effect on everyone she comes in contact with and I am grateful she lets me in her space. I am continually reminded of how blessed I am even if my perspective is so out of focus. My health, my opportunity and my Megan triggered the best in me today. I am ready to work.

How do you dodge your triggers?

Please let me touch your hand

2011-09-13T09:42:00.001-04:00

Life is so sly. In the past several days I’ve been filled and mesmerized by it.

On Saturday,

I taught my first class at Healthy Life Yoga. Loved. Every. Minute. Here’s the space:

And my mat in it:

And me in the dressing room as I await my students:

Whereas, none of us tied our limbs in a knot or experienced the mad rush of Kundalini up our spine, we shared space and time and intention to be healthier more grounded beings. Nothing better.

On Sunday

My youngest daughter started her First Communion class and we went to Mass after a latte. My girls and I (Mike and Nicholas were bonding in the woods somewhere) sat in a pew where I am sure my Mother and Father and I sat many times over the years. I looked to my left and saw the most regal older couple I knew I knew. I looked at the lady in a yellow suit and hat and saw a face I was sure I knew. The face of her son – my first kiss, my first crush, my first memory of a boy who liked me in THAT WAY. I learned a few weeks ago he died four years ago– a man of only 40 - from a heart defect. Track star, basketball star, salt of the earth family. I was sitting next to his parents and saw him in his mother’s lined face. I just wanted to touch her yellow sleeve. I couldn’t wait for the sign of peace so I could touch her hand and look in her son’s eyes and smile. I came home, held one of my daughters and smiled.

On Monday

Going through my inbox I found this from a cousin I had just reconnected with on Sunday:

hey clair this just came in today and of course i thought of you!! happy Monday

----- Forwarded Message -----
From: DailyOM <today@dailyom.com>
Sent: Monday, September 12, 2011 4:21 AM
Subject: DailyOM: Special Messengers

September 12, 2011
Special Messengers
Reconnecting with Friends

When fate brings old friends back into our lives, there is always a reason.

Every person that passes through our lives makes a contribution to our life stories. There are those who play large roles and make deep impressions, but sometimes a brief special appearance before life takes them in another direction creates a meaningful connection. It is a rare gift when they suddenly reappear in our lives after a long absence.
Though the world may seem full of more people than we could ever know, we are often drawn to people with similar energy, which brings us together time and time again. On first meeting, the characters in our life stories may seem familiar. We may know each other from past lives or perhaps we merely recognize the energy of a kindred spirit. But when fate brings old friends back into our lives, there is always a reason. They may act as messengers, reminding us of a part of ourselves we have forgotten to nurture. They might appear to give us a chance to react in a new way to an old situation. They may even bring up unresolved issues so that we may complete them, giving us the chance to move forward on our life path. Whether old friends, previous romances, or once and future partners, their reappearance is more than mere chance. They may never know what they bring into our lives, but the renewed contact is a gift.
If this hasn’t happened to you, maybe you are meant to initiate contact by seeking out old friends. If old friends come to mind or into your dreams, use their appearance as an excuse to get in touch. If an old song or movie reminds you of them, reach out to share the gift of renewed contact. Wherever you fall in the circle of connection and reconnection, be sure to look beyond the surprise of the moment to enjoy the deeper gift that this revelation brings.

******

Pass it on to a friend. And if I ever see you in person, please let me touch your hand.

Here, have a stomach

2011-09-09T19:40:00.001-04:00

Please tell me some of you are in your 40's. I recently turned 43 and changed - what seemed like overnight. For my birthday this summer, I got a stomach. I've never been a lean mean fighting machine and I've had 3 8lb+ babies, but I haven't had too much of a pooch until now.

Happy Birthday, Clair! Here, have a stomach.

BTW, the line above my navel is the graveyard from my belly ring. I had to let it close. Dang!

Gee, 43 - I don't know what to say:

I am listening now when the belly fat commercials come on. Seriously. Help. It's all 43's fault. It had nothing to do with the raw cookie dough I've ingested or my addiction to carbs. However this got there - I don't like it.

Makes me want to do this:

I usually take the cork out first. But I realized how silly I was being over my new kangaroo holder. I heart marsupials. But for goodness sake, I am healthy and sound in mind (sort of) so my pooch shouldn't make me hooch. In fact, my new boss at Healthy Life Yoga said I should embrace my stomach. It means I'm aging and still here.

I am teaching a class tomorrow at this new wonderful studio and I can't wait. I'll bring my heart in my pooch and leave a little of my soul. And I'm leaving the carbs out.

Today I had cereal for breakfast.
I ran 3 miles and took a Yoga class.
Went to work.
Had a clementine.
Worked some.
Had a spinach and tomato salad for lunch.
Came home from work.
Had graham crackers and peanut butter (SINNER!)
About to have fish, salad and potato for dinner.
Drinking some wine because it's Friday after 5 and not because of my 43rd birthday present.

I'll get it right. Belly fat, self esteem and all. I'm just glad I'm here. What did you get for your 43rd birthday? If you haven't reached it yet, i pray and hope and expect you will. i love life. Mine is just without as many carbs and hopefully as much belly. Running the Suntrust Richmond Half in November and the Shamrock full in March. That ought to help.

Love.

Jimmy Buffett, Van Morrison, Larry Smith and me

2011-09-06T21:32:00.000-04:00

I fancy my self a poet. It's the nuns at St. Paul's fault. I won a Poetry contest in the 4th Grade. $100.00 and a little attention. It was sponsored by the Catholic Daughters of the Confederacy (WHAT?!). There were probably only 2 of us but money is money. I love words and imagery and the power of the prose. I am often moved by what I read but I have to be able to understand it at first blush - or it's nerdy. Move over Robert Frost, bring on Jimmy Buffett. Not a great vocalist. A great story-teller and a ...umm poet of sorts.

He links tomatuh and potatuh/beer and steer like nobody's business.

Then there's Van the Man. God do I love him.

He wants to rock your gypsy soul, into the mystic.

I'm not going to lie to you. That line in that song makes me want to wear red pumps and dance on tables. The imagery, moving me to action. Poetry at its best.

And then there's Larry Smith. A beautiful piece on contemplation from Yoga International Magazine

Walking a Field into Evening

For learned books, I read grasses.

For reputation, a bird calls my name.

I cross a stone bridge with the pace of dusk.

At the meadow gate, six cows meditate.

For decades I ran with my mind up hill and down;

now idleness lets me see what is near.

An arrow of wild geese crosses the sky,

my body still, my feet firm, on the ground.

We age like trees now, watch our seedlings

take wind or grow around us.

I'm going to mark my books lightly

with a pencil. When someone wants

to take my picture, I'll walk towards them

and embrace. No more arguments

just heart sense, or talk about nothing.

Take walks in the woods at dawn and dusk,

breathe in the damp musty air,

learn to listen before I die

Really. Darn. Good. As for me, one of my Yoga students told me I should be a poet or a writer because she loved the imagery in class. I love the Yoga and the words used to describe it. The funny thing, in Yoga there are no words. Our bodies are the poetry - our own personal genre.

What's your genre?

The Irene Scene

2011-09-02T14:55:00.000-04:00

I feel so bad for all the folks (who talks like that?) who are without electricity because of Hurricane Irene. I admit I was a B-A-B-Y while our power was out. For us it was only 2 days and there are always those worse off but dang it I didn't sleep much. During Isabelle (2003) I had a 6-week-old, 2 toddlers and no way to flush. So when Mother Nature called she really called me to her (my) backyard. Sucked. At least this time we keep our toilet (and our dignity) and our Pinot Grigio cold. I heart generators.

My children had a ball. I watched them play with Irene just as she was getting going:

I could've been arrested for child endangerment since at any given moment a tree limb could've met one of their craniums. Here's my struggle: when do you corral your children from their frivolity when they are loving/living life in a risky situation (that wasn't all that bad - yet), getting along, and making memories? I waited about as long as I could stand it and told them to come inside. The still argued with me. I felt glorious. They need have wild abandon sometimes. I was lucky they were safe and whole. Some folks weren't. Why/how were we spared so much trouble and trauma? Don't know but I'm thanking my lucky stars.

I managed to kick out 6 soggy miles before Irene pounced and that was good. This week I have run 15 miles so far, taught 2 Yoga classes and 1 Cardio Jam class. Today I 'cross trained' by walking my dogs because I am sore as a mother. Can hardly move but it feels good. Tomorrow I run 7. I am taking my training plan for the Richmond Half Marathon very seriously this time. No substituting classes for miles. There is nothing like being on your legs. My children agree, it's even more fun in a hurricane.

It's Friday and 5 o'clock somewhere. No hurricane to deal with this weekend. Still getting aftershocks from the earthquake. Still wearing good bras.

Would you let your children play with Irene?

Prelude to Irene

2011-08-27T12:40:00.000-04:00

I am sitting here in my cottage listening to the rain and watching the trees bend. Irene is coming. A few minutes ago my house looked like this:

Before Irene: Own Your Backbone Abode

(Tomorrow morning I'll take anotner photo and share it.)

A few hours ago I looked like this:

6 in the rain. Bring it.

Felt good to be out in the elements. Wind was whipping a little, rain came down sharply against my straining quads. All the while, I was baptizing my attitude to look a life in a more positive way. I was thinking about something my brother in law said last night at dinner: Dream Big, Clair. He asked me about how my Yoga was going - he knew I was recently certified to teach and added a new studio to places I am currently teaching. I told him...

I love it. Don't know where it's all heading but I would love to become so good at teaching that I can travel to offer classes and workshops at executive retreats. Maybe I can Oom my way to the Four Seasons in Fiji to teach.

He says...

Go for it Clair. Keep dreaming big. I think Yoga is out there as a great exercise regimen and a wonderful lifestyle balancing tool but people are missing the mark that it can improve productivity. You might have something there.

He's a guy that dreams big and makes life happen. Husband to my beloved sister, fabulous father to 5 of my 17 nieces and nephews - he started a very successful business in a spare bedroom of my parents tri-level. Now he's movin' and shakin' with the leaders of our city. He's in numerous locations across the country and taking on more. He's daggone smart, with a personality bigger than Irene, and dreams larger than life. And he's not even 40.

So, in my wallet, I have tucked away some of my favorite items. They mean so much to me that if I died in a car wreck whoever found me would find Me. Here it is:

My Dad's funeral prayer card, picture of my Mom (I miss her so!), notes, cards, etc.

Including this:

It is from my big-dreaming brother in law in response to a note I sent to him and my sister just before they ran the Suntrust Richmond Marathon in November. It says:
Thanks Clair! You should be proud as well, you've done it. More than anything, YOU and Grace have really challenged yourselves recently to achieve new milestones in life. Few people in life move themselves forward an get stuck in a life of complacency. Both of you have shed that tendency and pushed yourselves further and further. Way to go. You both are an inspiration to me daily. Thanks.
I keep these words with me at all times. When I feel sluggish an unmotivated, I open my wallet and I remember to keep dreaming, keep moving. That's what my husband and I did in the Irene rain today. This note, the pile of treasures from my wallet inspired me.

So maybe on the other side of this Irene, I'll find myself in Fiji someday. Where would you like to go after the storm of a lifetime?

Quaking in your boots

2011-08-25T15:23:00.001-04:00

I mean boobs. When Beth commented on yesterday's post, she wondered if my boobs shook during the historic Virginia earthquake just 48 hrs., 46. min. ago. As always, that Beth is funny. She made me start thinking about my babies and their bras and I have come to the conclusion that:

Running bras and Yoga bras are not the same thing.

I am a runner and a yogi with a drawer for all fitness clothes. I don't have them separated by discipline. Maybe I need to be more disciplined. I went on a run today as part of my half marathon training and my legs felt heavy and sluggish. My boobs did not because I was wearing this:

and not this...

I am brilliant. It wasn't until the end of the run that I noticed just how in place my girls were. Not moving or playing peekaboo with my neighbor walking his collie. I'm not that brilliant. I have worn that very bra to run and it hurt my pecs, pectoral muscles that is. Shakin' like a quake. On that day my legs were the perky ones.

Why am I discussing my boulder holders?

Because I deserve it. Almost 11 years ago (when I was 32) I had breast reduction surgery - deemed medically necessary by my totally cool plastic surgeon. Now I did not have 'freak boobs' I am fairly tall (5'7") with a sturdy bone structure but they were too much for me. Hated it. Think Loni Anderson without the self-esteem. I had just over 2 pounds of breast tissue removed (no, you cannot have it for yourself - do you how many times I was asked why they couldn't transfer it to a more flat-chested friend.) I still have healthy C's but they match me. Like your bra should match your sport.

This cottage is making me smarter already. Here I am hard it work...

with her.

I love my cottage.

The State of Virginia owes me a Thank You note. Because If I hadn't had that surgery, the quake would've been at least a 6 magnitude. Less boob. Less shake.

What kind of bra do you wear? How do you lessen earthquakes?

My writer's cottage

2011-08-24T14:42:00.000-04:00

I don't know why I have such long lapses between posts. I do love to write and find the immediate gratification of instantaneous publishing quite... um, gratifying. When I publish something I feel all giggly about, I think about it before I go to sleep, when I wake up and often check for comments (thank you!), visits, ANY feedback. I'll post two or three times in a week - a good pace for me then, there's this huge dry spell mostly caused by negative self-talk. Things like:
"You really should be cleaning the toilet."
"Your writing is not that good, it's self-indulgent to blog at all."
"You need to go cure cancer or something."

Sometimes it takes the earth moving to get me to move to my computer to write. So I baptized our little outbuilding my 'Writer's Cottage'.

Clair's Cottage

Hmmmm... I' think, I'll go write. Come on in.

Cute, huh? My companion, Maggie awaits my hindquarters and my laptop.

Just below this sweet space, about 20 miles away is the epicenter of Virginia's biggest earthquake in history. I'm feeling the energy from the tectonic plates all up in my business. There were several recordable aftershocks - one at about 8 PM and another at 12:45 AM. I'm having a hard time NOT comparing great seismic s*x with this LITERAL earthmoving experience. Wouldn't it be nice if we all had aftershocks this often, this much later? (Mind is back in the cottage and out of the fault line/gutter.)

So, in this hiatus from posting, I have been to Colorado and back.

Steamboat Springs

where I saw Beth finish her half ironman...

and an elk at Rocky Mountain National Park.

My kids started school.

They are thrilled.

I started training for Richmond's Half Marathon (11/15), have been teaching a bit of Yoga, taking and practicing some Yoga, cut way back on my wine, reconnected with friends and loved ones, got back into my groove at work, survived an earthquake and claimed my cottage.

I'll be writing more from here from my heart. I hope you read it, I hope you like it and I hope you all experience aftershockingly good stuff.

We are now bracing for hurricane Irene. What natural disaster have you survived?

I’m always in a State

2011-07-25T19:05:00.001-04:00

I love to watch the magic of a team coming together to win a title or a tournament. If one of the players is one of my children that makes it even better. I love the ultimate underdog Cinderella Story of the 2010-2011 VCU Rams during their journey to basketball’s final four. Both of my older two children have almost made it to their titles. My son is playing for a State baseball title right now and might yet pull it off but dang if this process doesn’t put me in a State, tournament that is.

The crazy thing is, I NEVER PLAYED TRADITIONAL TEAM SPORTS. I was a dancer and an athlete nonetheless but I never got all those goodies folks say team sports gives you. I also NEVER LIKED BASEBALL OR SOFTBALL and I am the mother of two muthaeffing Trojans at it. Karma. God. Atonement. Purgatory. Not sure why it happened but I spend an enormous amount of time at ball fields. I can’t say I love it but I do love watching my children do something they love and I am as into it as the rest of the die-hards. I caught Nick’s coach talking on his bat phone before yesterday’s game.

And yes, he is solving the word’s problems. Training up a group of pubescent boys to work together, eat/sleep well, be accountable to each other and reach for more than they think they could ever achieve. I think he’s the bomb.

So I ponder the issue of team vs. individual sports. What if you are good at and like each? What would you choose? I love running and Yoga and dancing because you don’t have to rely on anyone else. That translates for me to my personal history. I like to take care of things myself, hold only myself accountable (easier/less fear and potential for disappointment). But what about the exponential benefits of putting two or 5 or 9 talented individuals together. Mathematically it reaps more and better benefits. Personally it might not fit you. But the objective outcome is bigger, more and maybe better. Not sure.

So, I am in a State – baseball tournament. Learning a lot from a group of 13 year old nice boys. Batman’s wife told me Jane looked like Jodie Foster when she was a child. The totally cool thing is that’s what people used to say about me as I was growing up. What do you think?

See? We do talk about things other than balls and at the field. Maybe this team sports thing is worth acknowledging more deeply.

Where do you land? Team or individual sports?

I have butter all over my body

2011-07-22T14:22:00.001-04:00

I have never had very expensive yoga clothes. I have some high quality stuff that I splurge on sometimes. I adore my pieces from ALO, Reebok, and others. I hadn’t visited Oz until my birthday when the yellow brick road took me to Lululemon. Why would anyone want to go back after THAT. Here’s my new favorite Yoga outfit:

It feels like butter melting slowly all over my body. (Not that I’ve ever done that) Decadent, warm, oozing, dripping, magic woven silken threads of pure I don’t know what. That’s why my three articles of clothing cost just under $200.00 with a teacher discount. Lawd have mercy! Yoga teachers aren’t rich in the wallet – they are dripping with spiritual wealth but that’s not enough to support a closet-full of Lululemonade. A dancer in dancer’s pose:

With a daughter thinking she’s full of it. I am. I will love this get up and know it’s purchase was a happy-birthday-to-me moment.

After all don’t you get it with butter on your birthday?

Birthday preview

2011-07-17T20:42:00.001-04:00

I love my birthday! I always have. I am the third of six children and was always the harmony-lovin’, peace-maker. You can talk to my therapist(s) about how that manifests into adulthood but for now just know I never lost my love of my day of birth. So much so I elected to have a child on my birthday and give myself the ultimate gift – a healthy 8 pound baby girl who’s about to be 8. Tomorrow. I already have received 2 gifts to mark my 44th year of life. A lovely friendship necklace from one of my dearest, Darla. I love her plenty and always will. Here’s another surprise from the mailwoman in our hood:

All the way from Longmont, Colorado my beautiful SUAR (Shut Up and Run!) tee shirt with the slogan: “never quit” emblazoned across my chest. I love it! My soul sister, Beth sent it to me along with a most wonderful card that lit me up. I wish the slogan would’ve lit my family up on our 7-mile hike in Palmyra, Virginia. We take off:

We play in the river:

Dogs too:

We realize it’s not a loop but out and back and the children say our little adventure is like this:

Horse manure. Out the window goes my harmony. I tell them that children in wheelchairs would give anything to be able to walk 7 miles and to be grateful. Jane made me carry her most of the second half of the hike and I pretended I was an adventure athlete who trains deliberately like this. 60 pounds on my back through brush and mud. It got me through to this:

Like being born. Emerging from the birth canal of the Fluvanna Heritage Trail. Makes me miss my Mom. Only I was a Caesarean birth. No wonder my head is perfect. See:

I drive a lot. Tomorrow I will drive wherever the wind blows me. Did I mention it’s my birthday?

I lied (and birthday countdown)

2011-07-13T14:37:00.000-04:00

When I got certified to teach Yoga, I swore I'd stop doing this:

I lied. Today, I taught a Step II class. Awhile ago I told myself I was way over this kind of silly mindless exercise - I was much too evolved - and that I'd only substitute teach it if one of my group exercise homey's was unavailable. I woke up this morning thinking: Drudgery Ahead. I greeted the class with a fake smile, tightened my shoelaces, stacked my risers and plugged in my ipod. Eye-rolling on the inside. Then, Gwen Stefani (my homegirl) started singing:

Ain't no hollaback, girl.

I even lied to myself. I am not too evolved to love. this. sh*t. It was fun. Sweaty, hard core, mindless, rock-your-body fun.

Other lies I've told:

Of course, you child can stay over an extra hour. I don't mind a bit.
No thanks, I don't want another glass of wine. I usually only drink about 1 glass then I'm finished.
I love running.
I hate running.
I don't blog at work. It's wrong.

I will be 43 on Monday. And that's no lie. How old are you? Don't lie.

Go hard and go home

2011-07-12T18:06:00.001-04:00

So the Goochland Angels 10U All-star team and District Champions finished up #3 in the State. Hearts were breaking wide-open last night as our run to the #1 spot in the State ended. I tried to keep the Yoga calm I arrived with at the tournament but I got twisted, spooled and ultimately saddened by the tears from a sweet red-head with style. On the last day I went on a hunt for the local Bikram Yoga studio and ended up going back to the hotel even after I finally found it hiding in the hills of Lynchburg, VA. Since us parents never could predict exactly when we’d go home we all made peace with the idea that we may be jobless and broke since our bosses couldn’t count on a return-to-work date. So we, like our girls decided to go hard and then go home.

Mom’s Muggin’. (Yes, that’s me with the wine.)

My hero’s hangin’ as the run to #1 began.

The coaches’ corner.

Earlier I had said I saw a beaver and a snake on a run behind our hotel near Liberty University. I have my hairy things mixed up – it was a groundhog. But isn’t it remarkable that I’d see both a male (snake) and female (beaver) euphemism on one silly 3 mile run? Admit it, you thought I was lying. About this I could not…

I was standing in the hallway outside the laundry and heard the following conversation:

Him: So what is it you really want to do with your kitchen?

Her: I need it to reflect who I want to be and not who I am now

Him: What does that mean?

Her: I want orange and red and other fiery colors that show I am independent and passionate not a freeloader who can’t get away from her aging parents.

Him: I know what you mean and I can help you get there.

They offer interior design and therapy solutions at the Spring Hill Suites. So cool.

And so we are home. Saying good-bye to one amazing experience and readying our hearts and minds for the next. In the meantime, I need some sleep. But not before I tell her:

This: “I love you, my girl I am so proud of you. You went hard and now you are and always will be home in my heart.”

Where I am

2011-07-09T11:30:00.001-04:00

My daughter’s softball team made it to the State Tournament. We are near the city of seven hills – Lynchburg, VA. A beautiful hilly little town that’s home to Liberty University (Jerry Falwell), Sweetbriar College (Equestrian), and Randolph College (formerly Randolph-Macon Women’s College). Maybe we can learn something and come home with a trophy.

What I learn These travel nicely…

I am not a very fast runner. I am a yogi who likes to run. I bring my mat and shoes most everywhere I go. Today I ran through the lovely back trails behind Liberty where I think they are building a football field. I saw a beaver and a snake. Yesterday before we left I practiced (Bikram) yoga and taught a class to get my mind right for the journey ahead. Today, the run kept me on my path of good energy and a quiet unattached mind. Unattached to the drama of 14 eleven and twelve year old athletes. Unattached to the constant requests by my almost 8-year-old Jane for more gum or ball field food (eww). Unattached to the miss of my son’s own all-star tournament in another part of the State. Instead calm, steady approach to enjoying the now of my weekend. THAT’s where I am. It’s sweet.

Wherever you are is a good place to be. Even Lynchburg, VA.

I want some of these…

Anybody have them? Got any feetback?

God, the smell...

2011-07-06T12:31:00.002-04:00

I invited my very cool sister to join me for 6 AM Bikram today. She has done this Yoga ( 90 minutes. 105 degrees. 40% humidity) a number of times. Her reaction was this:

"I don't know, Clair. I'm just not ready for that smell."

Mary Jarvis says:

"It smells like a cat box in The Room because you are supposed to leave your shit in it."

Just imagine 30 to 50 people sweating to soak a beach towel in a carpeted room several times a day. Studio owners work hard to keep it clean and it's hygenic to beat-the-band but you can't run away from That Smell. It almost smells like you-know-what - a bodily fluid that's as natural as the day is long but very, very, private. The first time I went to Bikram, I thought someone had accidently grabbed their - you know, 'wipe-off' towel instead of the intended sweat-sopper. I was embarrassed for everyone until I realized the human litter box was collectively contributed to by all of Us. Volumes of sweat pouring out of the brave souls that enter the ~~latrine~~ Hot Room can create a nectar of sorts.

You can almost hear the collective lymph system motoring to pump out toxins - literal and emotional. Every time I leave ~~the sauna~~ class I am more clear and ready for my life. Surely I am a little less full of sh*t. It is afterall, a litter box. The results are totally worth the smell. We'll see if I can convince my sister of such.

What have you tried to get your sister to do lately?

108 degrees in the shade

2011-07-05T07:46:00.002-04:00

I love me some rhythm and blues. I took an African Dance class in college where we learned the tribal skill of making love to the earth by reaching low with our hips and pouncing up with our leg strength. I think they call them squats now.
Anyway, if I could sing AT ALL I would grind it out from my soul to my extremities telling stories, scant singing all to the pulsation of a low bass. Sing to me sisters and brothers! Reggae, islands, and poetry are some of my favorite things. I wish this were me:

This the the best song for summer. 96 degrees in the shade
Real hot in the shade. (Third World) On Sunday it was 108 degrees with 50% humidity in the hot room. Real hot in the room. Bikram Yoga is NEVER easy but some days are better than others. There have now been 2 times true panic has set in for me. Claustrophobia, suffocating sensation where I wanted to leave The Room and give up. And yet, I didn’t. That is what keeps me coming back in the most oppressive of conditions in The Room. My African sisters and brothers kept coming back time and time again in the most oppressive of social conditions to improve, progress and liberate their souls. They still do. And they still are. We can then use that inspiration to keep coming back to the mat, keeping lacing up your shoes and keep loving our lives. True peace comes from within you not the space you occupy or the thing you do. It comes even when it’s 96 degrees in the shade.
I wish this were me:

This is more like it:

It just needs to be 108 in the shade. Sing it!
What inspires you?

Burning Funk

2011-06-29T18:13:00.001-04:00

I love James Taylor’s R-rated version of Steamroller Blues. He is so in his zone you can taste his ooze as his soul motor rides out those electrifying words in a poem of grunts and hums. It gets behind my navel and waits to pounce like a cat.

Well I’m a cement mixer for you baby, a churning urn of burning funk.

I am such when I:

Nail a yoga pose and let the breath lead me.
Make it up the hill by Grace Church on the route by the Y.
Own my backbone

See this.

Do this

Today I cried before breakfast. I ran 4 silly hilly miles at a laughable pace. No churning or burning funk there. Just a little throw-up threatening in my throat as I climbed up the hill near Grace Church. I went to a little music café to pick up a latte to drown my sorrows before work. I waited and watched Keith Urban sing the most beautiful soulful song on the big screen TV in this wonderful little muffin mecca. The whole thing made me cry. The words. His sweat. His closed eye lids as he chirped out the words we all love to hear. I don’t even like country music but today it brought me to tears. I blinked them back as the barista passed my potion to me. He looked at me funny and I said I was fine there was something wrong with my stomach.

It was the churning urn of burning funk. Brought on by an Australian hunk with a guitar. Can happen really anytime, Anywhere. Let it burn.

Any funk in your life today?

Hangovers are good for you

2011-06-28T22:34:00.000-04:00

When I was in college my cousin, Jackie told me to go ahead and drink on school nights because hangovers give you character. “You know you have to really push to make it through class when you feel so bad.”

If you think about it, these are words of wisdom. I used them used them at times during the Health and Fitness Bloggers in Boulder.

Mostly to make it through the workouts Beth made me perform. At the start:

At the finish

Sometimes there was the haze of a little wine from the night before, other times my East Coast barometric pressure wanted to crush the nice thin air in Boulder leaving me lightheaded and nauseous. Kia told us to announce we were visiting from sea level and folks might understand the spacey behavior. That sounded silly to me but whatever. Regardless of why you might feel a little less than right, you take what’s left and make something happen. Today was tough.

I wasn’t hungover in the traditional sense. I missed my new friends and the energy from the conference. I wanted to eat, drink, write, and work out like I had been for days.

Amanda, me, Beth, Jill and Jason. Super Five!

Jason and Beth are very busy here.

I got home last night and was over the top to see my family. I missed them terribly but I loved the suspended reality of traveling to a faraway place meeting awesome, talented, vibrant people and being open to the possibilities that lie ahead. This morning I taught a Yoga class and didn’t feel altogether there. It wasn’t from a hangover, I was traumatized by the man on the plane who asked me if my children were still at home. Does this look like the face of an empty-nester?

Can a granny bike 19 miles downhill on a mountain bike?

My post-conference hangover is building my character to stay focused on my goals with writing, fitness, parenting and living well. I guess Jackie was right. I think I’ll call her tomorrow and tell her.

Who’s your Jackie?

Head’s Up: Live Blogging Ahead

2011-06-25T19:06:00.001-04:00

So you know I am at this cool health and fitness bloggers conference and now we are ‘Live Blogging’ . Don’t know what that is, what it means or how to do it. These are some sort of ‘Product Review’ Marathon. I’ve run a couple so now I’m going for it as Own Your Backbone. We are on a timer. It’s intense and words like ‘ROTATE’ are being shouted by the emcee. Wish you were here.

The first product involves Tequila… so here goes.

#1 Casa Noble Skinny Margarita. From Jasisco, Mexico. Low calorie organic margarita option. Certified. Made from blue Agave Nectar. They let Agave mature 2 to 3 years longer than competition. 3 Casa Noble, Agave Nectar and lime. 48 calories per ounce. Tequila is Aged in French Oak Barrels – maybe I will be too. Now we are taste testing. Happy. Delicious taste. We are ‘cheersing’ our fellow bloggers and loving up on this delicious, organic certified margarita. Tastes pure and real. It’s Whole Foods meets Carlos and Charlie’s.

#2 Jovial Pasta-Pasta Product. It’s what cave men used to eat. Rise in popularity of ancient grains. High vitamin E, protein, and fiber. Has the unique nutritional composition of einkorn which has less starch, more protein and a very pleasing flavor. Available for $4.99 at Whole Foods which is a high price point but you eat less and you get better nutritional value than less expensive pasta options. We got cool samples but no taste test. Can’t comment on that. www.jovial.com.

#3 Rudi’s Gluten Free Bread. Product sample. Tasting PBJ on Rudi’s Bread right now. YUM! (It’s not the margarita, I’m still sipping) Does NOT taste like card board. Wholesome nutritious bread. No artificial ANYTHING. Even my picky children would like it. No preservatives so they recommend storing in the freezer. $5.99 per loaf but the slices are quite thick. Available at Safeway, Kroger, Costco and Whole Foods. We got a coupon for a free whole loaf. SCORE! Spread the Bread, sister!

#4 Pop Chips Air popped potato chips! Not baked, not fried. Very delicious. No oils in popping process. Lighter chip, more chips per serving. 8 flavors available. I tasted the Cheddar and it was GOOD. Available at Whole Foods, Target, King Soopers. Gluten Free, All Natural and amazingly good. It’s STILL NOT the margarita.

#5 Recharge Natural Sports Beverage Hydration for all out performance. 10 calories, sweetened with truvia. All natural of version of traditional Sports drink. 8 pouches in a box for $3.99. I tasted the Tropical flavor and it reminded me of Kool Aid. Uses vegetable dies for coloring. Now that’s cool.

#6 Detour Peanut Butter Bar Lower Sugar Protein Bar. State-of-art Protein bar Marries test and science. Tastes like candy bar and almost no sugar. Sweetener is sucralose. Supports active, healthy lifestyle and sports performance. Whey protein is the main ingredient. Whey is a co-product of dairy. Great way to efficiently get protein into our body. Absorbs quickly. Here goes the taste test… IT REALLY DOES TASTE MUCH MORE LIKE A TRADITIONAL CANDY BAR. Price Point: $1.45. Available in GNC, Costco 7-11 and some others.

#7 Larabar The original Fruit and Nut Bar. 2 to 9 ingredients in each flavor. Kosher, vegan, gluten and dairy free.

#8 Cascadian Farm Granola: Been around since 1972. Makes frozen fruits, frozen veggies, granola cereal and granola bars. Very delicious.

And now to finish the margarita. Live Blogging Done. Out.

Did you have fun? I did.

Yoga - mile high!

2011-06-25T16:51:00.001-04:00

While attending a health and fitness conference in Boulder, CO my hostess and boot camp sergeant – Beth - made me run 9 miles without adjusting the altitude. Here’s the aftermath:

I passed out and got Lucky (the dog):

Here are my new friends before our conference started:

Fabulous Amanda, Jill, Beth, Jason and moi prepare to learn how to kick it wide open in the blogging world.

I felt a bit intimidated because I have struggled with the whole blogging thing. I blog because I love to write and those of you who know me realize I love to express myself whenever I have a chance. I do not ever want to appear overly self-involved or self-promoting. I desire to share my experiences with health, wellness, fitness and spirituality and hope others may be inspired to look at those areas of their life as well. Blogging is also a coming-of-age media platform for all kinds of communication and commerce potential. So I am figuring out my direction. And here in Boulder it’s easy because the Rocky Mountains are to the West. It might get hard if we spent all of our breaks like this:

But what the heck? Bloggers are cool and fun. We thought we had stumbled onto the Wine Bloggers conference which is next month in Charlottesville – a lot closer to home for me.

And now for the YOGA MILE HIGH part. Beth, Jason and I participated in the Yoga class this morning at 7. One of us broke wind during the transition from three legged-dog to pigeon. I’m not sayin’ a word. Virginia Yogi’s are polite.

Having fun, learning a lot, missing my family. Time for a little pigeon or was that pinot grigio? Which way are the mountains again?

Meditating early in the morning facing King Rocky. Life is tough. Having a good weekend? Do you like bloggers? Do you break wind in Yoga?

I ran into my past - literally!

2011-06-18T08:44:00.001-04:00

We just returned from my newly anointed teenager's birthday extravaganza. Nick, now 13, is a baseball player and fan so we took him to a Washington Nationals baseball game on Thursday. Totally great experience. We stayed in a hotel in the middle of Downtown DC - two blocks from Chinatown. Here's our view:

Kids rode the Metro for the first time, a big event as we are from a (fairly) rural but up-and-coming county just West of Richmond. I love the tranquility of our country-like setting at home but I was a wild woman dancing on the heart beat of our Nation's Capital. So much action, so much to see, so much moving and shaking nearby.

So, of course I needed to go on a run. We banished the children (all good swimmers, BTW) to the hotel pool and my husband and I laced up and hit the pulsating pavement. I just followed letting him navigate traffic lights and Columbus Circle. We ran through the Capitol grounds (saw Obama's hybrid Suburban sitting out front).

I am hoofing along at a faster clip than usual and saw this:

The Reserve Officer's Association. BFD, you say. But I did my internship here 22 summers ago and haven't seen it since. This internship experience, the summer I lived in DC was hugely significant. I lived on the campus of American University and Metroed everyday here to perform whatever task Colonel Hart and his staff desired. Though I've been to DC numerous times, I hadn't really noticed it or looked at it or remembered the summer of 1989 with such clarity until now. I was lost in the remembering...

That summer I turned 21 and my parents drove all the way from Richmond just to bring me a cake. They have each since died - way too young - and I miss them so terribly. I have a million sweet stories about them. They are the best teachers I will ever have. (No offense, Col. Hart). Memories of that summer swam through my veins and I am so grateful I remembered a young student on the cusp of womanhood ready to blaze trails. I became inspired that it's NEVER TOO LATE. Here I am today.

Still wanting to walk (or run or bike) new paths. Things are different now . A lot of Life happens in 22 years but we can navigate our current landscape as long as we believe we can.

I ran into my past and it made me excited about my future.

I hope that happens for you.

Here's my new teenager:

My (almost) 8 year old who shares my birthday.

My 11-year-old was at a softball tournament. We missed you Kathleen!

My lesson:
Run to your past. Make peace.
Look ahead. It's never too late!
BTW, the Nationals won.
What did you do this week?

The Blueberry Experiment

2011-06-16T13:42:00.000-04:00

Early Tuesday morning I started my Yoga class with communal chewing - of blueberries. I was exposed to a wonderful exercise in mindfulness that involved eating chocolate slowly at Healthy Life Yoga. We experienced the mindful pleasure of the food and it was better than.... (You know what they say about chocolate?) Moaning happened.

I didn't think the blueberries would hold the same promise, but I thought my students might get the mindfulness thing. So I passed out this:

I asked them to hold hold their little blue balls in their hands until we were all ready to eat. As we did we experienced the texture, taste and change from a solid to masticated pulp. The explosion of tart/sweet was glorious. With that mindfulness of not missing one moment, not missing one breath, we approached our practice. It is about experiencing every moment - not missing any savory explosion to get from one thing to another.
Transitioning from this:

(excuse the backfat - more blueberries, less cobbler)

To this:

Is just as important as this:

I want to take this lesson everywhere. All day. Not missing one moment.

Welcome the heat of the work of your work out. You will explode!

My hair touched my foot

2011-06-13T10:10:00.000-04:00

On Saturday morning I went to my (almost) weekly Bikram Yoga class. I had a new experience. I explored the notion of relaxing into the challenging poses. After your body's alignment is correct - and this is critical to safe Yoga then you can let the pose come to you. With clear intention of accepting it. Working with the energy of the pose instead of fighting it.

With that mindset I nailed this one:

I have struggled with this because it requires both balance and strength. Some days I'd have one and not the other. On Saturday, my elbows finally went below my knees and I looked at my new navel ring while chewing on this delicious pose. Happy. Prana flowing. The dialogue of the teacher became music and I let it sing me. I relaxed enough not to fight with the experience just to achieve the end. The means became the moment and it was enough.

Then my hair touched my foot in this:

I have been working on strengthening and lengthening my back while opening my hamstrings for sometime. For the first time I melted into this and felt the arch of my foot touch my forehead. It's strange and glorious what happens when our body does something new. We become wide open in every way. Spiritually and to life's possibilities. A legal, joyous high. I did not beg my hamstrings or back to let me feel this. I opened the door and let it come to me. That was enough.

So on Sunday the day was ending and I had not yet taken my run. I sat at my computer willing myself to be motivated to write or run. I was tired and struggled and froze in front of the screen. I am surprised I didn't drool. Then I remembered the beautiful young lady I saw at Mass that morning in a wheelchair. She couldn't run. I could. That was enough

4 miles. 38:22. That was enough too.

Has one of your body parts touched another in a new way?

4 miles - hotter than shiznit

2011-06-10T08:36:00.000-04:00

Last night was the Sportsbackers Corporate 4-miler, a big 'office party' that commences with running and ends with beer. Yesterday, in Virginia we tied a heat record - 98 degrees. It was 94 at 7 PM when the race started. For those of us that like distance, 4 miles isn't that far but last night I begged to differ.

I convinced the people I work with (engineers) to participate in this healthy networking and wellness activity. We formed a small team and showed up guns blazin'. One of these brilliant minds drinks red bull all day and isn't shy in front of nicotene, another called it a 'marathon' and still another wanted to know why we only get one free beer ticket with registration. "I thought it was going to be 'all-you-can-drink' afterwards" he says. Julie McCoy (aka Clair Norman), crusise director, had her work cut out for her.

Something happens to Julie at a race. The energy takes over. I suddenly I think I am a Kenyan - a 43- year - old bad ass and my worries about my cool (albeit quirky) co-workers vanished. We found each other at the start - me with baggie of safety pins (once a mother, always a mother) for the bibs and my new belly ring exposed. I would've run naked if it was legal. It was stinkin' hot!

And so we did it. We had great fun. All of us. I work with some of the most amazing thinkers on the planet and last night their minds went in motion and they were runners too (walkers, a few). I'm not nearly as brilliant upstairs as theses folks but I did kick out a 9:12 pace in oppressive heat. Not quite a Kenyan but not quite all that bad for me.

The beer was cold and very good and I know 6 people worked their hearts last night because of me an I feel dang good about it.

We'll be back next year.

What did you do last night?

Wine. Laps. More wine.

2011-06-08T21:11:00.000-04:00

So today was about 107 humid Virginia degrees. I was in and out of my car all day. Hot. Hot. Hot. I had not run or worked out and it's approaching happy hour. Wine? - Work out?- Wine? - Work out? Dilemna. How about both? Today I tried it and it was superb. I was grilling burgers for my peeps and my Chardonnay begged me to open her. Nice, crisp, dry white. Lovely. After dinner I took my 2 daughters, my son and a friend to the pool for nice wholesome fun. I decided it was a perfect chance to kick out a few laps and get a little workout in. I don't love to swim but I tell you it's a lot better slightly buzzed. Very slightly. I don't condone water and alcohol even though Jesus did it but with 5 feet depth at the YMCA to my 5' 7" frame seemed innocent enough. And so it was. 22 laps without panic. I tend to panic during swim workouts since I have no form, no training, and no sense of breathing while stroking. I felt long and lean and so proud of myself for finding the moments between to exercise. There really is no excuse not to work out. We are NOT too busy and today I was NOT too sober or too hot to jump right in. Next time after a real work out my wine/pool combo will look like this:

And I will look like this:

Because, I don't have to be sober to work out. Do you?
************
Because, I'm funny I said something clever. (Maybe my mojo is coming back) About 2 people I know, I said to a friend: "It's really not just one of them, there is 'mutual up-the-buttedness' going on." Reciprocal amounts of ass-kissing.

You know we never really leave middle school. I am 43 (almost) and still gossiping about how other people behave. Bad habit. Trying to break it. At least I have matured enough not to use names. Recently, I observed 2 people I know so far up each other's rear-ends, it's a wonder they can see daylight. I noticed because perhaps I was jealous - I can admit that - jealous that I have no one kissing my ass in my world. Jealous because if I am in the company of one of these people and the other walks nearby, I become invisible. What is it that makes us crawl up another's butt? Were Jennifer Lopez sitting with me I'd be so up hers I'd wallow in her lunch but come on people, I'm human and we all love celebrities. Why do our associates become so alluring to us that we behave like starstruck middle-schoolers in their presence? We are all human with the same light inside and the same potential and the same desire to shine. I vow now not to worry about other's hang ups or obsessions or strange allegiances (when they aren't me, of course). I will have wine and work out and have more wine and work out more and be the best I can be at whatever I do and at the end of the day get my head out of my own butt so I can offer you love and help and support because that's how I roll.

I love you and your butt, but I am NOT going up it.
I love it when I nail it. What have you nailed lately? Out.

Missing my mojo but I'm funny

2011-06-07T07:29:00.001-04:00

Some days I'm all that and a bag of chips. Good hair day. Clever conversation. Checking things off my mile-long to do list. Life and I are open to each other like a flower petal blooming

(Shoutin' out to my Bikram homey's - Ardha Chandrasana)

Some days - like many lately - I've lost it. No mojo. Nothing charming or cool or captivating about me. I am so not in my skin. Everything is upside down.

The Urban Dictionary says mojo originally means a charm or a spell. But now its more commonly said meaning sex appeal or talent. A head stand on a rug with dog hair takes talent, people. Just like this clever email exchange. (Hope you don't mind: Jason and Beth)

Set up: So I am going to this health and fitness writer's conference in Boulder later this month. I know, wahh, 'poor me' right?! Just so happens my soul sister, Beth from ShutUpandRun! is going too. (Did I mention I've known her for 20 years and we both like wine. Look out.) Lots of cool bloggers with tons of mojo will be there - like Jason. (I hope some of it rubs off on me.) Yesterday the conference contact sent out an email about choosing free extra-cirriculars (all clean and legal) during the event. Here's a snippet of that e-conversation:
Conference Guy:
This email is going out to the 75 people currently registered for the Fitness & Health Bloggers Conference running June 24-26 in Boulder, Colorado. We will send you a Pre-Conference Information Packet later this week via email with complete information about the conference. In the meantime, we would like to know whether you plan to participate in any or all of the following free events. All are activities you don't normally find at any conference and are great opportunities! Please hit Reply to this email and let me know if you wish to participate in any of these. All the events meet or take place at the Marriott. Some have limits but if you reply to us, you'll be registered unless we tell you it is already full. Significant others can participate IF we have room - please note that in your reply if you wish to have someone else attend an activity.
I wish to participate in:
__ Guided Hike (Friday 8:00 AM)
__ Kangoo Class (Saturday 7:00 AM) (shoe size______)
__ Yoga Class (Saturday 7:00 AM)
_ Newton Running Form Clinic (Sunday 7:00 AM) (shoe size______)
__ Ignite Fitness (Sunday during conference)
__ Martial Arts Fitness Class (Sunday 2:00 PM)
__ Guided Mountain Biking (Sunday 2:00 PM) (your height_______)

Jason:
Kangoo Class? They teach us how to act like LL Cool J and say shiznit? I am so in for that one..... OK is was really Kangol but a guy can dream can't he?
On a more serious note are you guys interested in any of these classes? I was thinking the Newton one would be interesting as well as Yoga.

Beth:
Damn I was hoping it had to do with learning to be a kangaroo - like jumping and holding babies in pouches and saying "good day mate." I'm thinking maybe yoga. I already went to the Newton thing, it's quite good though. Jason if you fart during yoga I will never forgive you. Where's the sit-on-your-ass-and-shoot-the-shit-with-friends class?

Jason:
Oh there will be farting for sure. That I have no worries about.
So get this. I have a sticker on my car that says: I PEE on the bike.
So today I am driving and I get pulled over for doing 43 in a 30 (not the funny part) but as the officer approached me he says: 'so it says you pee on your bike. and do you?'
I respond: 'yes I do'
he says: 'well to each his own I guess'
I say: 'it saves me time on my competition and I will do anything within the rules to my advantage'
he says: 'do you clean your bike?'
I say: 'yes, I do'
We then discuss triathlon and the such and it was a funny conversation. He ends with 'keep cleaning that bike ok?'Still gave me a ticket. So the sticker draws attention but won't get you out of traffic violations.

Beth:
I LOVE that story. Smiling reading it. I can just see him lifting his eyebrow, thinking "this dude is intense, pees on the bike." Imagine if the sticker was I CRAP on the bike. Real conversation starter.
If you had an SUAR sticker on there I'm pretty sure you would have gotten out of the ticket.

ME:
I am dragging my Virginia butt to Boulder I want to partay like a shiznit. I love LL Cool J I love wine, peeing in my saddle and grabbing my pouch when I hop. So as long as I am with my Beth I am happier than shiznit.

Jason:
OMG.....I just snorted in this board meeting trying to contain my laughter.
Good this it was a snort and not out the other end.

****
I'm funny. (At least Jason thinks so.) No mojo but I can rock some emails.
Are you funny?
Got any mojo?

Hard core blessings

2011-05-14T12:16:00.000-04:00

Blessings

I try to think if nifty almost profane headlines to get my muck read. Somehow, there's a connection ot the post. So even if you are shocked (or bored) please read on. This writer craves a interested reader. Give me feedback. (good, bad, ugly) Am working on my work. Onward...

In a recent Yoga class we were called to focus on a blessing in our lives. For the record the jury's out for me on westernizing Eastern philosphy - floofing up classic Yoga language to massage torqued rigid-thinkers who might not see God everywhere - only in the Book, or wafting in the rafters of a Church building. He/She is in our spine, our hip flexors, and our shoulder blades too. The word 'blessing' works for me but I'm rubbing up against 'oh, please'. Christian, Hindu, Muslim, Jew. There is but One God. My mind is too small to comprehend his enormity. He is on my mat, in the inner arch of my foot, crawling across my torso, and wrapped under my hip in Trikoasana. Back to the blessing. (Soapbox, vacated.)

I thought of 2 people I just met. They are adventure athletes that do crazy things. Like run on the treadmill with 15 pound weights inside backpacks at a 12% incline. They sometimes run with other humans on their back for miles. A 24-hour race to one is short. The other is a young, very fit all-American cutie who brings intense dedication AND playfulness when she comes to my Yoga class. She's real and surreal all at once. Her training and progress are unbelieveable yet she finds inspiration in the stillness of Yoga. They inspire me because they are tapping into their human potential in a very external way. Potential they believe that we all have. They are elite athletes but not elitist people. They believe we all have the potential to push, we make up our own limits and that we shouldn't listen to anybody but ourselves. With that philosophy, though they are beginning to take Yoga classes but they are seasoned yogi's. God love them. They are my blessing.

Chris bikes for 100 miles, runs for 30 then repeats the process for 72+ hours. No sleep. Not sure about the eating or eliminating. I am learning this is a whole sport. (Duh!) There are these extreme, elite, crazyass Races all over the country that make my marathon look like a stroll the mailbox.

More to come: They agreed to be interviewed for OwnYourBackbone.

Not my acutal new friend, but an example of him.

Hard core

So while I learning about this adventure/elite athlete underground community, I asked if I was too old (almost 43) to push my body like this to be any better than a little better than average in my sport(s) of choice. Bear in mind that Chris is 44 and been skulking with other cool crazies in rough terrrain for 20+ years and he still kicks major ass. He told me:

"First, Clair - you are already hard core." (Whaaaaat?!!)

"Second - don't listen to anybody but yourself."

"Third, this is the most fun you can have legally. When your body is done and your mind takes over and you have even more left - it's unbelieveable."

All I know is in the days following this blessed conversation, I've added miles and hours to my workouts. I feel less tired and want more. Because I believe I have more. Our limits are self-imposed. That Revelation is a blessing.

Did I mention this freak-of-fitness-nature called me hard core. Yeah baby. Look, I can do a backbend after my run...

I think I might be hard core, are you?

Throwing up on your driveway

2011-05-09T23:06:00.001-04:00

The best for last? Not always

The last part of anything CAN BE the hardest. Like:

Your worklife. When you are about to retire in the Bahamas with your cute, fun, athletic, wine-loving best friend after working like a dog for 25 years the last 6 months on the job are for crap.

Your trip cross country in your Subaru with your dog and a wad of cash. You throw up in your driveway from being carsick after 3,000 smooth miles on the road and a bucket of dramamine.

Your (daughter's) game. She gets pulled after pitching beautifully for 5 innings twice (double header). Under pressure in 95 degree heat all day. Because the bases are loaded and her team is up 3 to 2 she comes off the mound. She's a competitor and wants it so bad she could eat the softball, but another child's fresh arm comes in to close it out. She cries. So do you. Not because she wanted the win but she wanted to finish.

Your skin surgery. After 97 stitches from the collarbone up to remove silly basal cell carcinomas you get a scar sanded and look like this at first.

And then this.

I gave a presentation like this in front of about 150 middle and high schoolers and a cosmonaut from Russia. I look like Gorbechev.

Soon I will be smooth as silk. The last surgery is certainly the best.

Your marathon. The last few miles hardest and best.

Your mother's breath. The last few were the hardest but the best. The best because she was here. The hardest because now she's not. I hope you feel good about everything you do. It might be the last time. It could be the best. It might be both.

What hit you like a Tonka Truck today?

I'm thought I was straight

2011-04-26T13:09:00.000-04:00

In my mind I am completely straight until, I saw this picture...

God, do those herbs smell good and please ignore that large fleshy protusion that in Yoga we politely call the "outer hips"

I have lovingly been doing headstand for a number of weeks. Weaning myself from my wall crutch was a big deal and in my mind my body was Straight Up and down. (Paula Abdul, anyone?)

Though my butt flesh, that in Yoga we nicely call "butt flesh", is in a plumb line with my shoulders as it should be - my quads are angled slightly forward. That means I am tight in my hip flexors and/or I am afraid. My heels should be right over my butt flesh. But, being completely straight is scary.

Straight or not hmmmm? Certain things come to mind. For example the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. 26.2 miles is still 26.2 miles straight and flat or as curvy and hilly as Loni Anderson. In my orientation I am as straight as I want to be in headstand but love my girlfriends so deeply that I can see why a few curve balls might work in this game of life. Straight or almost so, I am still in a challenging Yoga pose and I love it. So can I be in a slightly angled headstand and emotionally love some women to the bone AND still be straight up. Oh yes, few things in life are straight to the point. I'm still going for a perfect headstand however.

My friend Beth kissed a girl during the Boston Marathon, Katy Perry sings of such a thing. Like my friends I strive to accept what is and embrace life's straight and curvy lines. I know Beth can do a headstand, I wonder about Katy. If not maybe she can smell her knee like me...

Straight lines or curves, what's your favorite?

Ran 4 hilly miles yesterday. I would've preferred them straight and flat. People? they can be what they are. It's all good.

"L" is for luscious

2011-04-24T19:18:00.000-04:00

Unintentionally, I have an "L" tatooed to my forehead. Think: Shrek and Smashmouth.

She was lookin' pretty dumb with her finger and her thumb in the shape of an L on her forehead. Get ready, this is gross...

I'm a believer. Since my children nicknamed me 'loser' (lovingly so) after my first Mohs Surgery I decided to rename my inference and call myself "Luscious". I thought about 'lusty' but that's almost immoral so luscious it is - like this Easter Sunday...

First I meditated here:

6:00 a.m. after playing Easter Bunny I took my mat outdoors and began 21 minutes of quiet. It was luscisous. Still had plenty of time before my peaches woke up. Then I had time to read this:

Hindu Scripture. Lengthy but enLighening. Still enjoying wonderful aLone time while I wait for my chiLdren to arise. Next: Baskets, Breakfast, showers, Mass and then off to my most excellent sister's for Easter Sunday festivities.
An overall great time with loved ones as 17 children romped and rolled in a pool under the sunny canopy of an 85 degreee day. It was luscious except no one could eat near me because my head wound makes a person sick.  That's okay. My surgeon found skin as new as a baby's bottom undeneath that scar. It just takes awhile for it to catch up to the 42-year-old rest of me.

Here's my Letdown: No inversions (like headstand) for a week and I haven't run in two days. I plan on running 4 gentle miles in the morning. Still strategizing about my next race.  Yoga is still my most luscious form of exercise but a girl can Lust after some endorphins every now and then. Just look at my head and you'll feel gLorious about your own.

What would your "L" stand for? Here are some choices...

Third Eye Blind

2011-04-22T22:05:00.000-04:00

Well, I am not going to Cali in September for the Yoga Journal photo shoot. Dang it! These fine folks are. Gorgeous, stunning, amazing. Perhaps this photo would've worked better for me:

(Just had dermabrasion to repair scars on my forehead.)
I do look a bit like this..

The Yogi's 3rd Eye. Next time I'll hold a flower near my chin.

I'm not a 'contest' kind of gal, (except for that one in college that involved tee-shirts and a garden hose and that silly little dance performance at my sister's bachelorette party) but this was fun. I asked for help. I gave stuff away and developed my practice so I did win! Thanks for helping me.

Onward...

So, Spring Break is now over as is my Lenten wine fast. I thought I would be so happy and 2 glasses deep but this is surprisingly not the case. My wineless reflections:

Daily wine intake in moderation is fine.
Daily wine intake for me is not nescessary.
Daily wine intake for me is a breakable habit but also an enjoyable, well-savored behavior.

We had great fun this wineless week. Movies, walks, restaurants galore, Yoga, running, work, baseball, hiking, homecomings, friends who run Boston, phone calls that make me weep and the utter gratitude for every breath. There was not time to even take a sip. Surely I'll fit some in but after I meditate.

My Spring Break buddies:

Hope all your days feel fun and full. Happy Easter.

Soul Surfing and Hot Tailing

2011-04-18T08:45:00.000-04:00

I am a huge skeptic when it comes to way-too-beautiful people. I call them "plastics". They can't be real, right? They are probably mean, stupid, don't get it, or have a Daddy Warbucks (how else can a 20-year-old afford veneers?) No hard work no gristle no guts.

Here's my 'tude about some current hotties:

Hayley from AI. Moves like a wet rope. Knock-kneed. Growls like a hungry dog during Elton John's classic "Betty and the J--J--J--J ets" Cute? Oh yes. Pretty (pretend) teeth? For sure. Hair I would have loved to twitch about on stage? Amen.

Lauren Alana from AI (is that a double first name or a first and last name?) I'm not sure she knows. When Randy Jackson asked how she felt about being compared to Kelly Clarkson (who's REAL) she said in her Tennessee twang: "I'm just Lawwwren." Help. She sounded like a toddler who found a bottle of Benedryl and thought it was cool aid. Swollen tongue much? She redeemed herself a little when she laughed at herself for falling down the steps of the AI crib in spiky boots. What, the Benedryl again? But Lauren is talented. She is. Big, huge stage presence. A real voice not torqued to squeeze out something kinda creative. Maybe the whole picture makes her very real. I'm starting to like her.

Is my skepticism and cynicism jealously? Yes a lot of it is. I want veneers. I want to give myself over to what runs through my veins. These people are living their dreams. Wet ropes, and slurred cuteness don't stand in the way of me admiring them for that. Try doing it with one arm. Meet the Soul Surfer:

I can't say enough about Bethany Hamilton. Go see the movie. Take your family. You won't regret it. She cool, cute, real, talented, hard-working and lit up with her faith. Just unbelievable. Inspiring.

I did tell my children after we saw it that if they make a movie about one of us, make sure somebody hot, and cool. and nice with veneers (like Helen Hunt) plays me.

We are hot tailing to the beach for a 2-day Spring Break get away. Sunrise Yoga and Dusk Run. Heaven.

Here's how I closed out my gifts from the giving project:

I became an organ donor. Hopefully they will be very old but in good working order. Fits the rules. Not replacing them (God might), well-used and well-loved.

Like my life. Have a great spring break. GO SEE SOUL SURFER.

Trauma in my mouth

2011-04-12T22:15:00.000-04:00

Today, I ate ants

I'll get to that in a minute. This morning I taught a beginner's Yoga class focused on externally rotated standing poses (Prasarita Padattonasana A, Vira II, and Uttita Trikonasana). I opened with a quote from Albert Einstein:

"I am who I am so I can become who I always was."

Apparently I am an ant eater. Here's me on a trail run:

Aren't I cute? Very weird karma in this cyle of life....

Today I sat at my desk at work and suddenly remembered the bag of nuts I left from yesterday. Yum, sounded very good. I opened the sealed ziploc and scooped a bit of almonds, sunflower and pumkin seeds (actually shoveled a bunch) into my hungry mouth. Something tickled my wrist near the ziploc and I realized the bag was alive. Crawling with ants. I had a slight panic attack swallowed the nuts practically whole and drank a gallon of water. I never felt an unidentified tickle in my throat or had ants in my teeth but I was highly traumatized by the event. Protein right?

Here's me doing Vira II:

Three-legged dog. (Not looking for ants, not even hungry)

Thank God I didn't find any ants here:

What did you eat today?

Giving Project update: Yesterday, I gave away two big, beautiful apples I had planned to save for myself for later. Today, nothing. Tomorrow, a biggie...

Don't forget to vote.

Last night I got serious

2011-04-11T06:08:00.001-04:00

You might be thinking, she's always serious. Alot of my posts lately have a contemplative undercurrent. I suppose it's just where I am. All my life everything has to have some big swoosh associated with it - a big goal, another child, a trip, a job, a problem, a sadness that cracks your heart, a joy so high you have to look down to see heaven. Not much middle ground for me. But I believe in the stillness of the middle is the big stuff.

So Saturday night I was painting my youngest daughter's toenails and she was painting mine. A nice 'still' activity unless you want Picasso on your peds. In this very regular enjoyable moment I decided I am in training mode. I have no race picked out but I want that focus and discipline of training. Real traininng. I love knowing what I have to do over a week's time, build on it and be somewhere completely different in a month. See, I dont' like to sit still. Which is why meditation is a huge challenge and why I do it everyday.

I find it ironic that we work towards ease in finances, in relationships, in health, and perspective and then we crave the ooze and grit of a challenge. As long as we know some days we walk in stead of run, sleep instead of read, listen instead of talk and are cradled instead of support - It will work out. Balance.

Here are some events I am considering (I have done each of these at least once accept the Sprint Tri):

Patrick Henry Half Marathon in August
Richmond Half Marathon in November
Sprint Triathalon in August
Richmond Full Marathon in November

Thoughts/ideas?

Mostly I am considering what will have the least impact on my family regarding training time. I don't mind getting up super early. Between work, their activities, Yoga and the churn of life it's hard to find the stillness in which lies the training time. Sure It is there. I'm hoping these will help me find it:

My new kicks. Asics. Usually a Nike girl. So far so good. Tomorrow I am teaching my 3rd Yoga class since getting my 200 hr Teacher Training. I am in my skin when I teach Yoga. I'll let you know how it goes. Surely in teaching the sweet spot of stillness I'll cultivate my own. I'm serious.

Have a great Monday.

Giving Project update: Yesterday I gave away this to our local Goodwill:

Gently used. Well-loved. Not replacing it.

What are you serious about?

The Kissing Hand

2011-04-09T06:33:00.000-04:00

My Giving project

So, today's giveaway is also a book.

Another favorite mine. No coffee stains. All pages are present. You may think it's not a big deal for me to give away books during my "Send me to Cali" campaign, but if you are a Barnes and Noble/Amazon whore like me, you'll know I can never have enough books and I love them all.

The Giving Project Rules of Engagement are:

It has to be something I have enjoyed, spent time with, admired and loved well.
It has to be something I will not replace.
It can be new as long as I like it and it would've meant something to me if I had kept it.

Today is my Mom's birthday. Though this gift was earthly for just 28 years. (She's been in heaven for 14) is it my best, truest, most astonishing gift and I did nothing to get it. My little soul got her. HER. And in her In her honor I hand you this.

A kind thought, a moment of truth, quiet/air/what is. Place it across your heart and breath it in. I know. It feels good. Now give it away and look back down at your hand. It's still there. The Boomerang Affect. Happy Birthday, Mom. I love and miss you!

P. S. That's her engagement ring on my right ring finger.

Don't forget to help send me to Cali. (if you are so inclined) Click and vote. Tell me you did (1 entry) and you'll be in the running for my beloved Chi Running. All Giving Project winners announced and gifts mailed on 4/16. You can vote everyday at this link until 4/15.

What's your intangible boomerang gift?

Sit down and rest

2011-04-07T22:47:00.001-04:00

Need a good cry?

Read The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein. This is a tale about a relationship between a young boy and a tree. The tree always provides the boy with what he wants: branches on which to swing, shade in which to sit, apples to eat, branches with which to build a home. As the boy grows older he requires more and more of the tree. The tree loves the boy very much and gives him anything he asks for. In the ultimate act of self-sacrifice, the tree lets the boy cut it down so the boy can build a boat in which he can sail. The boy leaves the tree, now a stump. Many years later, the boy, now an old man, returns and the tree says, "I have nothing left to give you." The boy replies, "I do not need much now, just a quiet place to sit and rest." The tree then says, "Well, an old tree stump is a good place for sitting and resting. Come boy, sit down and rest." The boy obliged and the tree was happy. (Wikipedia)

As I campaign my way to Cali through Yoga Journal's Talent Search, I promised to give something away everday until 4/15 when the voting ends.
Here's today's gift:

My beloved copy of Judith Lasater's Living Your Yoga. Your are probably thinking: "Used book, big flippin' deal." It is. This is a well-loved book and I am ready to let it sail into the world with my blessing and hope it will affect you as it has me. And it's in very good condition.

BTW, that's me in tree pose posing in front of a tree referencing The Giving Tree. Clever, huh?
Here's how you win one of my favorite reads with my love all over it:

Help send me to Cali. Click and vote. Tell me you did. (1 entry)

Leave a comment. (1 entry)

Follow me. (1 entry)

Have a friend Click and vote. Tell me you did and I'll believe you. (1 entry)

Give something away and tell us about it. (1 entry)

Winner announced 4/15.

Favor: Pray for my young friend, age 8 who's on heaven's doorstep. Pray for her parents to find a tree stump on which to rest.

Give up your burdens and rest. Luxuriate in your life. Run your race. Live Your Yoga.

I've always wanted to be a centerfold

2011-04-07T06:43:00.001-04:00

Help me get to the West Coast, y'all.
Yoga Jounal along with Athleta (totally cool fun durable work out and street clothes) is sponsoring a talent search for the next YJ model. The winner is flown to California for a photo shoot and treated like Julia Roberts from Pretty Woman (minus the currency for intercourse). I am no beauty queen or pretzel but I could be a centerfold with clothes and I doing my darndest to live - REALLY live a Yogic life. It's my soapbox, my soul and my passion. My light. Here's the photo I sent in. Because it's far from perfect but a very good effort, I hope it's enough. I think it makes me real. Somehow I became a first round finalist.

I could've sent this one in but I needed to shave (my armpits). The only good part is my neck screams: I'M ALMOST 43 and nowhere on the site do they ask your age. That could've given me an edge.

(Date wrong on photo. Husband took pic during Ohio State Basketball Game. That's sayin' Something.)

YOU can give me an edge. Vote for me. Please, please, please. Send me to Cali. Make me a centerfold.

Go to the link below and click once everyday until April 15. Taxes are due that day and your vote for a 40-something gal who wants be share Yoga in the most massive way.

http://talentsearch.yogajournal.com/view/1908

I would do the same for you. In honor of my request to get something I am going to actively give something away everyday until April 15. I'll fill you in next time. Give, give, give and you shall receive.

Boo-yah!

2011-03-23T06:27:00.001-04:00

Boo-yah (Urban Dictionary)
The way people from the Southern US say; "great" or "fantastic". Mostly the male portion of the population. Most frequently used when a positive accomplishment has taken place.

Here's why the boo-yah's are poppin':

I'm clean. Here's the detox down low: I ate a river of brown rice and lentils and a wagonload of fresh, whole, beautiful, colorful fruits and vegetables. No diary, no sugar, no white flour, no preservatives, nothing with legs. Yes nuts. Yes raw almond butter. I know you are thinking she so drank her Pinot Grigio out of a bag in the loo and hid it behind the bidet. Nope. I did let the coffee slide however. I had a cup in the morning and saved probably $412.00 per week by not going to Starbuck's. The caffeine made me nice hopefully it didn't pollute me.

What I learned

It takes 21 days to break a habit. I no longer need or crave sweets or think it's okay to eat cookie dough and pretend it didn't happen. I have moved ahead of my carb addiction. Boo-yah! This is now crap to me instead of heavenly goo that makes all my problems go away:

EVERYONE needs a rice cooker.
I wouldn't have survived this process without this: (not the actual brand I bought, but mine was from Target for $39.00 and worth every cent.)

My version of detox was really a mild one. People go all out and drink only premade green drinks for a number of days like my sister. She was all like "Wow, I can't believe you did this for 21 days." "This is hard."

Reality check: I did chew. Mastication is not over-rated. It wasn't nearly has hard as the hard-core detox programs. Mine was a pre-school version of it. My sister's was a graduate degree from Harvard.

The point: Anyone can and should clean up their diet. It was hard for me since I once wished out loud that scones were good for you. I feel better, more focused, my skin has improved and I don't buy gummy worms to eat in the car on the way home from Kroger anymore. An all around good time AND I'm saving money. Do it.

Oh, and I finished my Yoga Teacher Training.

Pop some boo-yah's. Tell me something good.

Here's Chaka Khan singing that song. (Tell me somethin' good) Look it up on itunes. It'll get you going.

Not me

2011-02-15T06:41:00.000-05:00

It took 42 years. I am figuring out know who I am not...

I am not a long, lithe fast runner but that doesn't make me a fat, slow wanna be. I still love to run (sometimes)

Not me

I am not a ballet dancer - long, lithe, light, bony sticking glass in my belly so I can feel something (i.e. Black Swan). I am a dancer. I am never more electrified (almost) than when a good base and clear floor space opens up. Baby got back - and pelvis and hips and shoulders and goo in every cell when the music starts. I get lost and please don't find me.

Not me.

I am not a pretzel. I am a Yogi. You are too whether you know it or not. That's a whole other post.
I AM NOT TOXIC. Or at least in 21 days I wont' be. My friend Kathryn and I are detoxing together starting today.
No flesh. No dairy. No processed foods. No white flour. No white sugar. No caffeine. No alcohol. Yes lentils. Yes fresh fruit and veggies, basmati.

I will check in during this journey often during the next 3 weeks. I won't lie or pretend it's something it's not but I will have utter faith that in my moments of really, REALLY wanting M & M's, I will get me some Eminen and dance my face off. I am not Meg Ryan. (hiding her stash and looking for it in the trash.) Trust me. I trust Kathryn and we are in it to win it. Have a great day.

Me in my new purple jacket.

(in my mind.)

What are you not?

Good God, no excuses...

2011-01-20T21:49:00.000-05:00

Why wouldn't you practice Yoga everyday if this counts?

Day 19: 3-6-5 Yoga

After consulting my friend Kathryn, I decided that Viparita Karani (Legs up the Wall pose) with Pinot Grigio balancing on the abdomen counts for my daily Yoga. My meditation consisted of deep breathing at a stop light with the radio off. I took a walk with my luscious 7-year-old fully present loving her and the rhythm of our steps. I practiced real Yoga without twists, binds, arm balances, or inversions. I can do this for a year. Mostly, I plan to go deeper longer stronger in asana but if this counts there really is no excuse. For God's sake.

Jon wants to know if he can wear boxers during class to be closer to his om. I ask if he's ever been in a Bikram studio where there's om wagging everywhere.

I think I was behind him at a class in Annapolis.

He was wearing less.

We're all friends. Wear what you want, Jon - just do it.

Day 20: 15 minutes of meditation. 15 minutes of asana. Dropped to chaturunga in my office. Losing focus but coming back.

Are you coming back?

3-6-5 Dang Good Time

2011-01-17T14:20:00.000-05:00

I'm in.

Yoga everyday for a full year. One of my teacher training buddies invited be to be a part of this 365 Yoga challenge. This little e-community of crazies meet up on Twitter or in our blogs to check-in everyday to report our Yogic experiences. Total fun. This is day 17 (duh! check the date) and I am NICE all day long. I wish the 11 hours of practice over 3 days I just completed as part of my TT (not tee-tee or titty, get your mind out of the gutter) counted but that's the beautiful thing about Yoga - 15 minutes or 180 it's all Yoga and it's ALL GOOD. Being with your Yoga in a conscious way every day will lead you to closer communion with your higher purpose, God, love.

Come on in. The water is warm. Rich full deep breath. Rich full deep life.

Do you want to join us? You won't regret it. Comment or email me and I'll help you chime in to our Collective Om.

Not into this, cool. I honor all of you for who you are. But you really can stop and just breathe for one minute everyday. It's a dang good time.

This weekend we did a billion of these:

Ustrasana (Camel).

And 6 million of these...

Urdva Dhanurasana.

Then I did this...

3-6-5. Come on. Will you do it?

Collective soul

2011-01-02T18:08:00.001-05:00

Please read this. With holiday gift certificates I made a hefty trip to Barnes & Noble. I read this treasure in a day and was left with a hefty trip.

Surely, I am late on the scene with this novella published in 2002. I am inspired and so happy to know of our individual significance to the collective good and that we are really a part of the Collective Soul. And they're hot.

For God's sake who wouldn't want to be a part of that? Lessons learned...

We are where we need to be.
We have everything we need.
Seeking is good.
Love will support your Personal Treasure.
Camels aren't as trustworthy as horses.
Falcons are cool.
When we are our true selves we are enough and supporting the collective soul.

Stop gagging and get out there and be you. This year find out who that is and...

Get that tattoo if you want.
Run a race.
Be kind.
Be present.
Be quiet.

And, please read The Alchemist. I just bought The Little Prince for my younger children will be reading it out loud and collectively crying for the tenderness of our humanity.

Today at Bikram I DID THE COOLEST CAMEL. I SAW MY OWN HEELS UPSIDE DOWN. Trustworthy or not. Give me my camel.

Lastly...

Frozen mud slide

2010-12-29T07:46:00.000-05:00

Have you ever had a frozen mud slide? It's kind of a dessert drink, like a milkshake with hooch. If we lived in Europe where there's no drinking age it would be on sale at Friendly's or Dairy Queen. When I was in college like the child I was I ordered one when a professor of mine asked me out on a date. He was a journalist, slick and cool. He ordered some sort of high-end scotch. I felt really stupid. I haven't had ordered one since. I have had one all over my face however for almost two years.

I recently had an ellipse done on my left eyelid and eybrow area as part of a scar revision process. It was a simple v-shaped slice and reclose to relieve droop. It wasn't a real lid-lift (blepharoplasty) but I am here to tell you it's made a world of difference. Not in how I look but how I feel. Since my first Mohs surgery in Feb. 2009 where I had a honking skin cancer removed that left me with 53 stitches across my forehead I have felt like I had a landslide of mud creeping down my forehead extending into my left eyelid. Scar tissue, nerve damage and the like. I didn't know how annoyed I was by it until I wasn't. The minute my doctor pinched the skin on my eyelid together after excising the droop I wanted to celebrate with hooch. I wish I had that frozen mud slide to drink. I heard the professor I had that drink with in Spring of 1990 died young about 10 years ago. So what they say is true (and I know from experience)

Only the good die young.

I want to die good and old and with frozen drinks and friends nearby. Dancing my way to the grave happy and centered. I am planning on it but going with the flow of this beautiful life.

Here's me contemplating my trek to oldness right after my mudslide was removed.

Wanted: Surrogate Mother

2010-12-22T18:44:00.000-05:00

Fluff, inspired words, clever sayings, wisdom, humor, informed valuable opinion and total charm.

And now for today's post.

I need someone to step in and raise my children. That's what I told them.

Set up:  Because of snowy weather our Christmas break started a bit early. We've been in the house together for awhile.  There is an abundance of carb-loaded, sugar-stuffed finger food all about our house. My children have been helping their darn selves anytime of day.  I am a bit of a freak about what they eat so I am so off-center and way controlling and hyper-aware of everything they put in their mouths. I realize I need to let some of this go, it is the holidays for 6 pound 8 ounce baby Jesus' sake. BUT, I HAVE MY LIMITS....

Keep in mind that last week my girls ate the hard as concrete Gingerbread House because "they were hungry". I guess they forgot where we keep the frig full of nutritious food.  I mean I can never find the scissors, I get it.

But THIS was nuts to me.

Today at 2:30 IN THE AFTERNOON as I am preparing to leave for my SURGERY on my eye (after I had been to a Bikram Yoga class and cut up fresh vegetables with dip for lunch) I ask "which one of you has brushed your teeth today?"  Each one of them (below) said, "not me" with a giggle as if they were proud and waiting for the crazed response from their mother.

Note: All their mouths are closed probably to hide their unbrushed teeth.

Here's my response:

Screeching, and vein in neck fully engorged: I AM MOVING OUT SO SOMEONE ELSE CAN RAISE YOU. WHAT I AM DOING IS OBVIOUSLY NOT WORKING.

Middle child, (teary): do you know how bad that hurts us, Mom.

Me (void of maturity and reason): well, prove me wrong.

Loving, patient, kind, compassionate, guiding, intelligent, gentle, wise, fun.

And now for the real me...

Grateful, trying, sculpting, learning, stretching, loving, asking, dancing, waiting, doing, planning, working, laughing, toasting every day.

Maybe I'll be their surrogate mother. Doing my best and keeping it real.

Have you brushed your teeth today?

Rockstar, Mass and Meditation

2010-12-08T16:57:00.001-05:00

I know an IRONMAN finisher.

2.4 miles swimming in frigid temperatures navigating a sea of strange elbows, knees and feet in your face.
120 miles on a bike. Makes my butt hurt to think of it.
26.2 miles on her legs. I've done that and can't even fathom it after two other major MAJOR events. I am in awe of my friend Erin who in her mid-forties just finished her first Ironman competition in Arizona. Needless to say, she's fit, hip, and a rockstar to me. She's humble too. Erin says: anyone can do it, if she can. You just have to want to train. Stress fractures, early morning icy runs, and fear at the start couldn't keep her away. The only time she got teary was when she was about to start. Fear can do that. How she got through? Her mantra.

God is with you. You can do it. For me, she made praying cooler than cool.

I used to think it was not cool if not impossible to be a Mass-lovin' Yogi until I had coffee with my Yogi-friend, Garland.

It isn't Garland (though it looks a bit like her). She can do this on one hand.

Once when I was a freshman in college a "friend" made me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with her foot. You know how you get really hungry when.... (it was a very time ago.)

Anyway...

When I'm at Mass I'm a closet Yogi. At Yoga, I am a closet Catholic. Now I'm everything all at once. Garland told me one of her favorite things to do while when was at Teacher Training in Hawaii was to go to Catholic Mass with her roommate. Steel drums, the beach, and a good swallow of Kundalini God will convert anyone. We are the same all at once to Him.

A few random thoughts on this, the feast of the Annunciation. (look it up, after you meditate.) Om and out.

What's your truth? What's your mantra?

Sucker!

2010-11-23T18:38:00.002-05:00

I bought this last week:

Starbuck's: nothing new.

Yoga Bread: because I am a sucker. I am a good one though. It was delicious. Sure you slap a label on cardboard with cranberries and I'd buy it if it said "Yoga". This loaf was special. (That's what he said about the sucker.) Really yummy whole, raw ingredients. Rush to Whole Foods and suck you some. You'll be glad you did.

Earrings: Because I have long holes. I love my double pierced ears but Irarely insert posts in my first holes. They are over-used from the Jody Whatley days of HUGE LONG HEAVY ear bobbles.

Also, from Whole Foods this love discs make me very happy. AND they help starving children from Kenya. These are not ...

.... starving children in Africa. They are two of my three souls. God, am I grateful. I think I'll go celebrate:

Wine and Yoga bread. Out of the way, Starbuck's. Jesus did it.

What are you doing this Thanksgiving?

Hooters, head and marathons

2010-11-16T15:42:00.000-05:00

What the...?

Nick: Mom, guess where we are going for our end of the season (baseball) party?
Me: (making dinner not really paying attention) I don't know, son - where?
Nick: Hooters.
Me: (astonished)

Am I being ridiculous? I am not a prude. But, please... twelve-year-old boys at an establishment where boobs are the draw (it is NOT the wings), men are the main target audience, and beer flows. I love boobs when they aren't exploited. I love men when they aren't oogling at boobs. I don't love beer but I can drink me some wine.

I am open to being ridiculous. Let me know what you think.

Onto to some head. I got my stitches removed yesterday from my latest round of Moh's Surgery. That's 4 in 20 months. Do they give some kind of award for this? Here's the progress.

I think it looks pretty good. I am psyched because I am getting my left eyelid lifted for the droopiness from a prior surgery AND I get dermabrasion across my whole forehead to restore my former pre-skin cancer beauty. I will look great from the eyebrows up. Maybe they'll hire me at HOOTERS. OOOPS, they start at the navel and go north when looking at resumes, my bad.

And now for marathons...

My amazing sister ran her first marathon on Saturday. I am so proud of her. She is my rockstar. Did I mention she has varicose veins and five children? She trained with a smile and sailed across the finish line strategizing for her next. Living fully with her heart and her mind, body and soul.

Ever been to Hooters?

Boulder Holder

2010-11-09T18:34:00.000-05:00

Two funerals and one (more) surgery within 10 days validates therapy in my mind. I am a big proponent of therapy in general so I mean no disrespect when I present you my $38 session:

I haven't bought a bra in 10+ years. On November 13, 2000 I had breast reduction surgery and since then I have relied on the generosity of others for over my shoulder boulder holders. That and my sports bras since I spend a lot of time in workoutwear. My supply had gotten so pathetic I was wearing no pec slings at all if I could possibly get away with it. I need therapy just for not taking care of my basic needs but I heard about PROFESSIONAL BRA FITTINGS and decided I needed one. I had spent most of my life since puberty hating my chest. Ten years ago - I got a new upper body and a new lease on life but old habits die hard and buying bras continued to be a hassle, something I avoided at all costs. Then I met Tasha. The kindest angel ever who made me feel like I had the body of a pole dancer and I should be proud of whatever I got packing - not matter what. The trick was to pack it well. And she knew how. There was French lace in her department for north of 3digits but I needn't such a luxury. This brand- Moderna is perfect. I felt like I was wearing nothing but I was lifted, supported, cozy and ready for anything pitched my way. Now that I have one that fits and does its job - maybe I'll get all saucy and what not.

I am continuing my early morning spinning classes on Monday and Wednesday. Here's my traverse back into my neigborhood on Monday. My free therapy:

And so I had more Moh's surgery yesterday.

That's not a marshmallow stuck to my forhead. It's a pressure pack. I feel pretty good. I took a walk with my children and two dogs today after spending a quiet day at home. My dear friend, Megan brought me a latte from SB for a morning treat then my sister brought dinner so I wouldn't have to cook. I finished my Yoga Teacher Training homework caught up on a bunch of stuff and did it all in a bra that fits. My therapy worked. Life really is grand even though we need therapy at times to remind us.

How was your day?

My King and I

2010-11-06T08:04:00.000-04:00

RIP King James

I lost a dear friend this week. Herbert L. James died very suddenly in a way we might all hope. Mr. James, 81 shared a lovely meal with his wonderful son and most elegant daughter-in-law and settled in the den of their cozy home to watch a little news before bed. He complimented Miss Charlotte on her divine fixins', fussed at his son for not hopping-to-it to clear the table. After tidying up, he sat in his favorite chair. Mr. James coughed, signaled to his son that he needed just a moment to collect himself and died. Like his bright light was simply blown out. Easily, gently but with a deafening finality that weighs on my heart like a cement block.

My friendship with Mr. James was an unusual one. I met him about 6 or 7 years ago when his daughter-in-law, a lady I love dearly and I became friends. He was a gentleman's gentleman and reminded me of all things stately and kind - paternal and grand paternal and friendly like we were connected from another time. Mr. James dressed down in a button down and wouldn't ever be caught in God's house without a suit. He had his military haircut sharpened once a week and drove himself in his mini-van to visit family and friends and live his very active life. I love that burgundy caravan. You might expect someone like me getting out of it with a gaggle of children instead of a 81-year-old fella with a twinkle brighter than Orion.

I lost my Dad about the time I met Mr. James. They shared many qualities - reverence for their wives (both deceased), deep love for their families, manners and sharp blue eyes.

My Mom had been gone for about 8 years when I met Charlotte who's beauty and grace remind me so much of dear Kathleen.

A coincidence? I think not.

I just saw Mr. James a week ago when we said good-bye to one of his grandsons, young Adam. Though at a very sad event, I was uplifted to see my Mr. James looking so well and quite vibrant. Like the true gentleman he was, he offered me his arm and escorted me around the reception like I was his queen. I have never felt so honored. When I got the call from Charlotte a few days later she said, "Clair, I'm afraid we've lost one of your biggest fans." I think not. I was his.

Rest in peace my dear friend, King James. Say hello to my parents. I miss you all.

Buck, baby

2010-11-01T10:25:00.000-04:00

I left my house at 5:30 this morning to catch a 5:45 spinning class at the Y. I had my doggie pj's on over my bike shorts because it was cold I don't have any sweats that aren't running tights. Not very exciting but that little tidbit lends to my falsely perceived notion of the activity level at the gym at that ungodly hour. I figured only crazies or police officers or my friend Ann (who is training for an Ironman and teaches the class) workout in pre-dawn hours. She wouldn't mind the pj's.

As I was leaving my neighborhood I saw a Big Buck galloping through open space. He looked so majestic and sure of himself and yet so fragile to me since I am married to an animal-loving hunter who believes in population-control and humane demise (i.e. quick shot vs. splat into the grill of an Escalade). The hunting debate aside - and yes I respect many views - This buck was BUCK chiseled, handsome and if I were a doe he'd be my boyfriend.

The Urban Dictionary defines Buck as a slang term for wild, ridiculous, extreme. Used to describe something so amazingly fierce, it's almost not possible - in a good way.

At 5:40 in the morning the Y was Buck Wild. Busy, buzzing with fitness minded maniacs and I thought it was cool. I forgot I had on my pajama bottoms but those nut bags didn't even notice. I took my pj pants off and climbed on the saddle of that bike got busy. Way fun.

Nothing like bucking in the early morning.

Did I just say that?

Why do children get sick?

2010-10-26T11:01:00.000-04:00

I know a young girl very sick with cancer. Things are not looking good. I am not close with her or her family but I've seen her at Mass many times and had the pleasure of being in her company during Children's Liturgy. She's a beautiful, faithful young lady always smiling with what seems to be very limited time. I am sad and overwhelmed and inspired and confused and motivated and hopeful and determined. My heart is cracking for her mother and father and family and close friends.

We are told that God listens very intently when children pray. My children and I prayed for our friend last night. Jane asks, "Is she dying, Mommy?" I told her yes and she said "Why?"
Thy will be done.
Thy will be done.
Thy will be done.
Faith: to believe in something when you have absolutely no reason to.
Thy will be done. Surrender.

In my faith I believe sick and dying children are a beautiful part if a plan I am not smart enough to comprehend. Sick children are good and precious and potent purveyors of life's best deepest lessons. It's our job to listen and to notice and to act.

Tonight we prayed for our friend from St. Paul's. Tomorrow I will remember her and her family and my children will make cards for her and be still and quiet and faithful.

So I didn't get the job. Thy will be done.
So I made a tough choice and am filled with questions. Faith. Thy will be done.
So I don't know what I want to be when I grow up. Patience. Thy will be done.
So my children never met my Mother. Surrender.
And will hardly remember my Dad. Trust. Thy will be done.

Our friend might not see November in her body. Thy will be done. Thank you for letting me know her.

Trust. Faith. Patience. Surrender. Lean on the love that surrounds us. With these tools we can finish any race, competition, pose, project, or difficult process. Ask any child you know to pray for Trust. Faith. Patience. Surrender. The world needs it and our little sweet friend needs it. Out of the mouths of babes... Sadly, we lose some. Hope.

Thy will be done. It is good. Faith told me that.

Rebellion is brewing...

2010-10-23T21:02:00.000-04:00

So I had my surgery. Here's me recovering

Here's me on day 3...

Here's my story. I traveled to Bali to teach Yoga to a bunch of executives from E! After I got my $3 million for the guest appearance during which I was worshipped and offered my own gig I went for a dip in the warm pool right off my bedroom. Here I am meditating in gratitude for my great fortune.

Because I was buzzed from morning margaritas, I fell in by this lotus flower and a leech attached to my collarbone. I'm home now and for the life of me I can't get it off.

I wish.

I will likely have a 'large, ropey' scar left from this round of skin cancer surgery since women make thicker more keloid scars on their trunks. What the hell!?!? Later I will have steroids injected into the scar to settle it down. Does that make you squirm? It does me.

AND

I have to have more surgery on my face. That cute round bandaid in picture 1 is from a biopsy that came back positive for more deep skin cancer. Hopefully, THIS IS IT. And I can move on to the plastic surgery to repair the scars on my forehead. I will look fabulous from the eyebrows up. It's something.

All this said. I am feeling very rebellious now. Looking for a respectable, ethical, moral and legal way to live out loud. So yesterday I was at home alone - which NEVER happens and I cranked up the tunes and danced around my house like I was 25 again winning a dance contest which DID happen (unlike the Bali fantasy). Chicken. I was alone. Next I need an audience.

In the spirit of living in the moment and being a little crazy - I was thinking about getting my belly button pierced. I have done away with the tattoo idea (too much commitment involved). What's rebellious to you and would you do it?

I do not have Munchausen's

2010-10-10T20:54:00.000-04:00

However, I can't wait for my surgery. In 2 days I am having this removed...

Not my collarbone but the quarter-sized pinkish blob of skin cancer.

(I wish I were having my neck trimmed and smoothed.)

I am also having a smaller area near my left eye excised for the same reason and a consult for scar revision from an earlier incident.

This will involve an open wound, stitches and the smell of my own skin. I can't wait. Why? BECAUSE FOR 2 DAYS NO ONE WILL EXPECT A THING FROM ME. Yes! I will have guiltless down-time. This is not Munchhausen's but someone who needs to learn to sit still without a reason. That it's actually beneficial to do nothing.

A person with Munchhausen's Syndrome feigns disease, illness, or psychological trauma in order to draw attention or sympathy to themselves. (Wikkipedia)

I don't want illness just stillness.

For this opportunity to tune inward and check out for a number of hours, I am grateful.

I am also grateful for:

catching this rascal before it got out of hand.
my friends and family that have offered to help out.
my exceptionally good health. (save this little snafu).
the support of my husband and children to train to become a Yoga Teacher.
the love of my family and friends.
the world's best parents. (Miss you, Mom and Dad)
you, for reading this post and any others you may have perused.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Keeping it real...

Today's little confession: I returned home from day one of my anatomy workshop on Saturday evening. After six hours of instruction on body parts my brain was fried. My children were glad to see me which is a nice feeling. My scrumptious 7-year old was especially excited dancing all about my person, swinging on the arm of the chair I was sitting in - chattering a mile a minute. I say to her: "Can't you just faint for a few minutes?" I thought I was being funny. Not so much. I need this little rest coming my way.

What is your confession?

30-day wagon ride

2010-10-06T15:47:00.000-04:00

I'm promoting clarity. Vibrancy, enthusiasm, peace and contentedness.
How? I am getting out of my own way. Yoga is a major method to erasing the madness of cloudy living but other tricks toward clarity include:
Nasal cleansing. Here's my very own Netti pot:

I am no longer a virgin. Today I put the long end up one nostril and let water drip out of the other. My breath is free and clear which is the point. This practice is supposed to aid your Yoga practice making way for good, healthy big breaths. I'll let you know how it goes.

Morning meditation without a hangover.

As part of my YTT homework, I am to meditate every day. I have found it so much more enjoyable without the leftovers from happy hour picking away at my eyelids. I've never been a heavy drinker (1 to 2 glasses of wine a day) but I wine it out nearly everyday. For thirty days I am on the wagon. I am currently on day 10 and making it. Again, clarity and vibrancy without anything in the way. I'll let you know how my serpentine spine electrifies my very soul. That's the plan.

Life is to be savored not withstood. The only way to notice everything that's going on around us is to to experience it. Having the senses unimpeded by anything in our control so we can absorb the life within and around us. Isn't the point of our humanity to stop and smell the fall foliage?

What's in your way?

Yeah, baby!!

2010-10-02T06:58:00.000-04:00

Pranaaaahhh!
Prana (प्राण, prāṇa) is the Sanskrit for "vital life" (from the root prā "to fill", cognate to Latin plenus "full"). It is one of the five organs of vitality or sensation, viz. In Vedantic philosophy, prana is the notion of a vital, life-sustaining force of living beings and vital energy, comparable to the Chinese notion of Qi. (wikipedia)
In prana, a great big "Oh, baby!" sits in your throat ready to come out.
"Oh, baby!" just wants to come out. It can happen when...
You are in perfect alignment during a Yoga pose.

You run a race

You set a perfect table for dinner with your favorite people

Maybe your hair looks good today. Or your herbs are happy.

That counts. Creating, writing, sailing, hugging, praying, dancing, looking in the eyes of a loved one all let prana flow.

It is accessible to all of us all the time, we just have to learn to cultivate and harvest it. It makes us alive and as long as we have breath, we have prana. Yeah, baby!

In Yoga, we are taught to notice Pranic moments and let them imprint. We are trained not to react but let it be. Soon it will be woven within us and we may feel the urge to "Yeah, baby" much often. I like that prognosis.

I must go feed my dogs who are circling me like they've never seen food. If they could, they bark out a big "Yeah, baby" whenever they see their full bowls.

What fills your bowl?

Old School

2010-09-29T17:10:00.002-04:00

Jam on it.
If you don't admit you remember this song you are WEAK and a LIAR.
Three words to the whack, step yourself back
Just gettin' down, and you then you're givin' no slack
Like a Burger King with a sack of Big Macs
We're throwin' down with the radical sacks
On time, in your mind you see
You gotta boogie to your best ability
You gotta funk it up until it knocks you down
And when you're funkin' up, be sure to pass it around
Come on, let's go to work
We got what'll make your body jerk
Make you throw your hands up in the air
Shake your booty and scream, "Oh, yeah"
?Cause we are the Jam On Crew
And jammin' on it is how we do the do
We'll funk you up until you boogie down
So come people check out the sound
Check out the sound, check out the sound, check out the sound, check out the sound
Check out the sound, check out the sound, check out the sound, check out the sound
Check out the sound

Newcleus

This is not my Yoga Teacher Training class, but it could be.
WE ARE ALL OLD SCHOOL.

We are old and WE HAVE HOMEWORK.

Like the student I used to be I started right away.

Only this time I'm not distracted by $5.00 pitchers of watery stale beer at JM's. I actually want to do it.

Our YTT homework includes 5 minutes of mandatory meditating. That's right. Sitting still, visualizing, breathing and thinking about NOTHING. It's much harder than it seems. With the meditating comes chanting and I haven't brought myself to do it out loud yet since I get up early for this little solo party (no, not THAT kind). My family just may wonder even more deeply what up wit her? Plus if they interrupted my flow I'd just say...

Wikki-wikki-wikki-wikki

(Shut up)
Wikki-wikki-wikki-wikki

And they'd KNOW I was old school.

Come on. You know you SO remember this song even if you've grown up be the head of six corporations, a doctor, a lawyer, a priest, a teacher, a writer, a mother, lover, a friend, a social worker, a soul mate or a rapper. You all have newcleus and you'll all be yogis and yoginis when I get done with you. Word.

i say hip hop
hippy to the hippity hip hip hop,
You don't stop rockin
to the bang, bang, boogie
say upchuck the boogie
to the rhythm, to the boogie the beat
say we are the jam on crew and jammin it on is the best we do.

That was my chant in the early 80's. What did you chant then?

Pull me, stretch me, heal me

2010-09-27T23:23:00.000-04:00

So I can do the same to you. As of Friday, I am a Yoga teacher in the making. I started a YTT program through Yogaworks at a studio in Carytown. Yogaworks blends Iyengar, Ashtanga, and Vingyasa styles of Hatha Yoga. There's a strong meditative component to the curriculum too. I am excited, overwhelmed, happy, filled, teary, nervous, vulnerable, thrilled over this journey. I have 19 new friends and I think I love them all. Doctors, cancer survivors, nurses, moms, grandmoms, dads, belly dancers comprise the group. The process promises to be transformative.

Alas, as indispensable as I think I am - my family survived just fine without me all weekend. My 7 year-old daughter attended a wedding in the Outer Banks of North Carolina thanks to the kindness of our dear friends, Larry and Megan.

Mary Anne Kennelly Tysinger with Bibby, Maggie, and (my) Jane

Kathleen spent the weekend with my sister and her family and when I picked her up she didn't want to leave. Love it! Nicholas went hunting with Mike and watched college football (go JMU). So you see, all that bending over backwards for them is not critical to any one's survival. Except mine. I'm up to 16 a day.

Finally, my hamstring is healed. My Yoga teacher trainer, Jeanmarie Paolillo plugged my hip into it's socket with wild abandon and I have been pain-free ever since. She is a saint and inspiring and beautiful and talented and funny and cool and so very good at what she does. She is of service to her students. I promise you, I will be too. Let the healing begin!

What did you do this weekend?

Alicia Keys

2010-09-11T13:30:00.000-04:00

Septemer 11, 2010
I am not eloquent enough to bring us to a moment of remembrance on this day. I have been crying a lot lately though. Time of year. Time of the month. Or it could be this.

Alicia Keys and Jay-Z

Empire State of Mind

Yankess vs. Phillies

Go to itunes and listen to Alicia Keys' solo version of this song. It made me so sad for New York, you know - the person. We all know The City never sleeps, has character, is vibrant and scary and overpopulated and nine years ago it got a heartbeat. I want to wrap my arms around her and hold on. I've been to Ground Zero where the sidewalks and streets are rich with the life lost, life present, and life to come. I didn't know anyone personally who died in or around the Twin Towers or The Pentagon or the field in Pennsylvania. With six degress of separation, we all knew someone. I am sad for everyone's someone.

In Virginia, like in many places there was at moment of silence at 9:39 the minute the plane crashed into the target in our state. My older two children were too young to remember it and my third wasn't on the planet yet. I said they should just sit still and think about their freedom. I thought I might pray specifically in words since I am never at a loss for them. Instead, only Todd Beemer came to mind. Everytime I say "Let's Roll" let it be a tribute to my friends New York, Virgnia and Pennsylvannia.

Listen to Alicia Keys, she might make you cry too. Today's the day for it.

Donate to your local foodbank!

Winner and I want a new body

2010-08-30T23:25:00.000-04:00

I love Mollie and Carlee Berry. Mollie eats frosting from the tub. (Duh!, who doesn't?) She goes the extra mile and adds peanut butter. Love the rawness of it all. Carlee Berry looks so happy with cute Mike. She makes me want to feel young and cool. Surely my young coolness is somewhere in here. Besides these unique tidbits that make their blogs fun and compelling, they made me feel loved. Thanks, ladies. You did a good thing by commenting on my blog. I have to spread the love to Kassi, however - my winner. She ran 2 miles and is working her way up to a 10k and I know she'll do it. I love to see the enthusiasm and shine from a new goal. Tenacity and persistence and stick-to-itiveness. They deserve $40 and much much more. We all wish you well, Kassi. Send me your email address and I'll hook you up with the folks at CSN. Enjoy that Dutch Oven!

And now...
I want a new body. Surely, you are tired of hearing about my hamstring/hind quarters issues after my ill-advised Party Yoga trick. I ran 4 measly miles on Friday and I didn't even recognize myself. I felt like I had no stability in my hip joints and that I might buckle at any moment. I did not feel weak or hungry or especially hot - just not in my own body. I couldn't believe I ran 26.2 miles twice in six months and 13.1 miles 4 times in the same year while teaching exercise classes at the gym. Who was that girl? Idid get some relief with use of some gimpy looking black hamstring tape...

It sends some kind of pain relief signal up to your brain to trick it into feeling better. I can still do most of the things I did before but not nearly like I used to. The flexibility is coming back, my spine is stronger and I am managing to shuffle out some miles but the pain when I drive is still unbearable. White-knuckles. Grit-yer-teeth pain. Where is the badass I fancied myself? If you knew me then, help me find her. I want to spank myself for losing my groove on. Dawg gone it.

Return to center. Return to Yoga. It cures a lot. Just taking it's time with my poor aching butt. Recognize what is and let it go. A celebration of the present, whatever it may be. Change your mind. Change your life. I'm getting all greased up here. Get out of the way of your own ass and live, baby live. Without judgement but with frosting and 10k's and goals and love and support. And peanut butter. Everything's better with a little peanut butter. Where do you put yours.

Completely unrelated to my assinine problems...

You gotta love a seven year old who sleeps with a eye mask. Now that's a good morning. My peanut butter pumpkin with frosting on top. Love to you all....

Yoga Championships coming soon. next up: my training for life altering asana. Thanks, Garland for Directing us. We love you!

Fo shizzell!

2010-08-26T16:37:00.003-04:00

Do you like free extensions?
Fo shizzle my nizzle - Slang for "for sure, homey".  Though most people attribute it to Snoop Dogg, fo shizzle can be traced back originally to E-40 from Vallejo, California. Bay Area.
If you've never visited the urban dictionary. Do it. Especially if you have offspring even close to puberty. Mostly its funny. Can be disturbing. But it's reality.
Here's where fo shizzle works...
Q: You ready for the weekend?
A: Fo shizzle.
Q:  You leave a tip for your favorite barista?
A:  Fo shizzle my nizzle.
Q: You want a Dutch Oven?
A: Fo shizzle.

Q: How do I get one?

A: Blow hard butt wind under the covers several times and build up stench while your old lady is brushing her teeth and getting ready for bed, then when she gets into bed, pull the covers over her head and yell "Dutch Oven" and let her enjoy the stench of your ass gas for at least 30 seconds. OR
1. Comment (1 entry)
2. Send me your latest AHA! moment from training. (Ex.: a PR on a recreational run. Got your head to your knee, did backbend down a wall, got out of bed without limping) I want good news baby! - (1 entry).
3. Keep us all real. Send me one little confession (clean and comfortable) - You love the smell of gasoline (I do!). You must line labels evenly. You eat cookie dough, run the water while in the restroom. Something that makes you go hmmm.
4. Send a little good energy into the world to someone/something that needs it. To Amy who's working hard and being an awesome friend. Or to your sister in gratitude. Or to your parents in heaven because you'll forever be stunned you got them even for a short time. How did I get so lucky? (Quiet entry as many as you like, tell me about or don't but JUST DO IT!) By Saturday.

Make him proud...

Yeah, dogg.

$40 GIVEAWAY and huge moment

2010-08-22T08:48:00.003-04:00

Even though Mary Jarvis says the Bikram Yoga room stinks because you leave all your stuff in it, please, no Dutch Oven in the hot room!  It's already hot and smelly... in a good way. - kind of like breast milk poop. I used to love that from my babies - I know I'll regret that little giveaway in the morning. But not this one:

$40 gift certificate to CSN stores.   Read to the end for details.

So I went to Bikram Yoga yesterday with my hurt right butt cheek. I was hesitant because of my bottom but hungry for that sweat and push and focus. I told my instructor I was nursing a hamstring/piriformis injury and she said "Okay, take it easy." Another student said: "She should whip you if you don't step up." Like "Who do you think you are?" - better make sure the instructor doesn't think  you are slacking. "  How silly am I? What does she care about my hindquarters?

Everything.  Apparently. Each word Briah uttered resonated with me and though I was tender with my ham I progressed in almost every pose. Probably because I wasn't full-throttle and wanting to outdo myself and my neighbor in class. I had a challenge to consider and everything else settled like the butterfly on my (patio) bush. Though I was one-sided in triangle and standing head to knee, my full locust was the bomb.

AHA! Thank you God, Allah, Jesus, Shiva, the Universe, Love and my ass! I feel better. (That's my huge moment.)

Here comes contest for the giveaway...

1. Comment (1 entry)
2.  Send me your latest AHA! moment from training. (Ex.: a PR on a recreational run. Got your head to your knee, did backbend down a wall, got out of bed without limping) I want good news baby! - (1 entry).
3. Keep us all real. Send me one little confession (clean and comfortable) - You love the smell of gasoline (I do!). You must line labels evenly. You eat cookie dough, run the water while in the restroom. Something that makes you go hmmm.
4. Send a little good energy into the world to someone/something that needs it. Like my friend Beth who's traveling to run with Dean in just 2 hours. Go Beth! Or to your sister in gratitude. Or to your parents in heaven because you'll forever be stunned you got them even for a short time. How did I get so lucky? (Quiet entry as many as you like, tell me about or don't but JUST DO IT!)

Winner announced August 25! Everybody needs a little Dutch Oven.

Addicts no more

2010-08-18T07:20:00.001-04:00

What would you do for a butt?

On Monday I opened my freezer and saw this:

Frozen mud? Marinade for another day? I wouldn't put it past my sauce-creating husband to save his baste like so. Turns out the girls were trying to make a chocolate bar out of Hersey's syrup. Not a creative endeavor from some cute workshopie cooking camp. In my mind, it's a desperate measure by a true sugar addict. I've become militant and cleaned up our food act. I will never ever purchase another soda and sugar is a treat on a special occasion not a daily entitlement. It appears my behavior is founded.

They aren't happy:

So I say to my son:
Wow, your sisters are like nicotine addicts searching desperately on the ground in a dark alley for some old cigarette butt hoping there's a puff or two left so they can get their fix. So don't ever smoke. What do you think?
A little dramatic.
After a pause he laughed.
Good one, Mom.
I was serious.

This is better:

My silly hamstring. Slow to heal. Like recovery from sugar addiction. We'll do it though. One day at a time.

No miles this week. Yoga twice and 4 fitness classes to teach at the Y. I can lead without full-on yowzah. So I am resting a bit.

What have you changed lately?

Fire and ice

2010-08-15T09:42:00.001-04:00

Three and a half hours like this set my right leg on fire up to my rear end.

I kept my cussing to a minimum. Thank you for all the great suggestions about propping, icing and doing shots. Surely you've been waiting to see that we all made it home in one piece. We did. It was the driving. I'd go through fire to get to the beach and I did.

To alleviate some of the pain, I sat on a huge pillow and used my cruise control as much as possible. To be sitting up higher than usual did nothing for my balance, proprioceptors and my fear of bridges/tunnels (another post). Yoga breath, where are you?

I did not do shots but loved the idea, thank you Beth and Jon. I did however get 2/3 deep into a bottle of white and it was good. I sat by the pool with my limb on ice then went to the ocean to watch this and 2 other reasons for withstanding fire...

The next day and the next I hobbled out 4.67 miles and actually felt better which is good because the drive home took nearly 5 hours.

We had a great time. Beach, pool, surfing, and seafood. Nearly heaven.

Only drawback - couple in pool thought they were at Hugh Hefner's. THIS IS THE HILTON GARDEN INN. Families and children and mother runners who are soon-to-be Yoga teachers with injured hamstrings are here. Hello. There aren't enough shots to withstand that. Put some ice on it. The could've borrowed some of mine. Luckily they took their tryst indoors before I got sick.

Can't wait to do this again...

That's me with a hair piece.

How was your weekend?

Help! Intense pain coming soon...

2010-08-12T07:32:00.000-04:00

It's not Cobra pose but I do have one leg - that works. I posted earlier about my temporary insanity - sliding to the splits, no hands and no warm up after an 8 mile run. (At least I didn't have a lamp shade on my head). I heard a pop in my hamstring and haven't been right since. I walked slowly with a limp well enough later that day and the next. I've been to Yoga hot and not 3 times since and have walked several times 3 to 4 miles each. I am functional.

I WANT TO CRY WHEN I DRIVE. My darn one leg hurts like a mofo, a bee-atch, and any other non-cursing supurlatives you want to fill-in.

I have to drive 3 hours with my 3 kids to the beach later this morning. Does anyone have any hints on making the drive more comfortable. I'm going to prop til I drop. Wiggle, wrap ice, take Alleve, pray and focus on the road. If you had any ideas on ways to make this more comfortable, I'd really appreciated it.

Oh, and it's my driving leg. Son of a split!

How do you like your Jesus?

2010-08-10T22:27:00.000-04:00

I like to picture my Jesus with angel wings singing lead vocals at a Lynard Skynard concert. And I'm in the front row hammered drunk.

I like to picture my Jesus with a tuxedo tee-shirt. You, know something kinda formal that says I'm formal but I like to party.
--Cal, Jr. Talladega Nights.

It is with great pride that I confess that my 12 year old son can quote Talladega Nights on command and I laugh every time. It's not Romans 8:12 but it still takes a good memory.

I coulda used some Jesus on Saturday when I pulled my hamstring.
I was trying to do this:

On this:

Oh snap. Loser.

I had run 8 miles with my sister on a beautiful, unspoiled stretch of earth near her gawgus rivah house on the Potomac. I ccelebrated my run, my health and my pursuit of Yoga Teacher certification with a couple of glasses of pinot grigio. She started dancing on the picnic table and I will NOT be outdone I tell you. I started with Warrior I on the bench and then felt called to slide down to the splits with no hands. I hope no one else heard the snap because then my faking that I was fine would be found out. I faked not limping. Sounds like something our buddy Cal, Jr. from TN (above, left) might do. But

I FOUND JESUS because I called. Often I don't call Him but He just shows up like over the crest of a huge hill I'm sludging up or at the finish line of every race or in the face of my child or in the fresh veggies the earth births or in every single solitary Yoga class I take or in my dogs, my friends or yes friends cheesy crass humor that tickles me.

Jesus, Clair. Raise your bar. Just don't do the splits on it.

Lesson learned: wine and Yoga tricks don't mix.

What have your learned lately? Peace out.

Workshop review

2010-07-26T20:44:00.001-04:00

On Saturday I participated in a Yoga Workshop led by the 2010 Asana Champions, Kasper Van Den Wijngaard, Brandi Winfield, and Griffen Peddicord at the Bikram Yoga Richmond Innsbrook location.

Here's how it went. First Kasper (on left in photo) led a beginner Bikram class to a sold out crowd. His Dutch accent and candence was mesmermizing and soothing and definitely keep my vomit inside, though it was knocking on my thoracic door. Sold out in a 107 degree room when it's 102 outside means more than you think. My toes actually touched the water bottle of the girl behind me, to my right (sorry cutie pie in pink). I got touched by the toes of my neighbor in front.
But they were champion digits!! Griffen Peddicord (center) was right in front of me and ever so slightly to my right. Surely he was so mesmerized by me he just had to feel me. Even if it was with his toes. I know you think I'm crazy but I could feel his energy even when his toes weren't gracing my forearm, or head, or.....

After class besides being grateful I was alive, I prepared for a 3-hour workshop. I exited the Hot Room and hit Nirvana. Our friends, Kara and Sam provided fresh fruit and home made slushies to us. HUGE KARMA POINTS. I saw the beautiful fruit and almost cried. I went outside to the biggest heat wave in recent history in Virginia and IT FELT BREEZY AND COMFORTABLE.

Here, folks get high on slushies.

Yes that is someone's sweat print on the sidewalk.

Then we returned to the hot room with doors open and watch each champion demonstrate their winning routine from the 2010 Asana Championships in LA in February. I was moved to tears. Brandi, complete with flowers in her hair showed us her soul and it was hauntingly beautiful and real. Then came the fun Q and A, my favorite part because my favorite thing is to talk Yoga and Life. We learned a little the champions. They each in their own unique way made me want to live a deeper more Yogic life. And this is just the way to start...

I took my children to the James River and watched them play on God's green earth.

I know I should adjust my skirt but it was HOT out there.

Just like the workshop.

What did you do over the weekend?

Walking around naked

2010-07-24T08:04:00.001-04:00

Alanis, baby.
When I was single living on Monument Avenue in Downtown Richmond in the mid 90's I would belt out these words by my soul sister Alanis Morrisette...
I recommend getting your heart trampled on to anyone (I had.)

I recommend walking around naked in your living room...(I wanted to. Alone or not. Didn't matter)

And then my very favorite line...

I recommend biting off more than you can chew. To anyone. I certainly do.

So. last week I had a birthday. In your 40's they come faster and mean more. My daughter turned 7 the same day I turned 42. The birthday girls at dinner...

To Alanis' point, I want my children to pusher harder. Do more. Explore ideas and interests. Take that class, try that hobby, play that sport, run that race, love that lonely-looking child at school, eat that vegetable, try that dish, throw away all their trash, study longer, practice more, pray til they sweat, prove the nay-sayers wrong, smile til their face cracks, cry til their eyes are dry because...

You live you learn

You love you learn
You cry you learn
You lose you learn
You bleed you learn
You scream you learn
You grieve you learn
You choke you learn
You laugh you learn
You choose you learn
You pray you learn
You ask you learn

You live you learn.

Can you tell I REALLY like that song.
This year... I am getting my Yoga Teacher certification. I might be biting off more than I can chew because it's a add-in. I've wanted to to this for so many years. I say bring it on. I'll end up walking around naked in my living room because the laundry won't be caught up.

Laundry? Study Yoga? Laundry? Study Yoga? Hmmmmm.
What's your favorite song?

Here's how I spend my time

2010-07-14T20:24:00.001-04:00

Sometimes I feel all cool and evolved and salivating for life. Like today. In the middle of 5 zillion errands I found myself a quarter mile from my yoga studio. With all three of my reasons-for-living with me I decided to stop in and say hi to my hot gumby peeps. (I talk like that. No really.) My son - still on crutches and sweet as cheery pie - says:

"You don't have to do this, Mom. It looks cool enough from the outside."

But no. At that moment, I'm all about seizing the moment so I have him hobble and the girls traipse inside to view my altar to connective tissue. Two of the coolest Bikram teachers ever are hanging in the reception area and we parade in. And so it is. After a warm hello, we walked in the hot room and Nick turned as if he'd walked into a cement wall. Here's what I got:

"God, that smell, Mom." -- Nick
"It's not that hot in here." -- Kathleen
"Can we go now?" -- Jane

The best part of the day was...

"You know, your Mom's very good at this." -- Jessica (Certified Bikram Yoga teacher.)

"You know, she'll be 42 on Sunday." -- Jane (beloved daughter who shares my birthday.)

So we went to Target. Here's how I spend my time.

Brokeback Mountain

2010-07-10T16:20:00.001-04:00

Broken foot and other things...

My hero of a son sits here with a broken foot.

Twist and take it, they say. The wild pitch. Get on base. He did. He broke his 12 year old size 9 (men's) foot. After 23 days in polyester, 3 hours a day in 103 heat, he's out. His team will probably go to the State tournament and he'll be cute in his jersey on the bench. Not the beast of a player with manners he's come to be. His cutter moves and drops like a freak of nature and the outfield moves way out when he steps to the plate. My hero, my 135 pound baby is sidelined and I am sad. The Norman's will be there though for the rest of Districts and State to support the Boys of Goochland. They are on fire. Like the man he's becoming, my son will take the heat - just not deliver it this time. The other teams in Virginia just got lucky.

Whoa doggie...

Look at this.

Organic cuke. My party favor for showing up at the 6 AM Bikram Yoga class yesterday. I have no words.

Feeling really really sad about my boy but really really happy about my cuke. Nuf said.

Going for a run. Looking for balance. Do you have any?

What happened?

2010-07-06T18:23:00.001-04:00

Floridian Meridian and I miss Manny

It's fartin' hot near the equator. I realize that 2/3 of the country is in a heat wave but at the waistband of our planet - it freakin' sizzles. I just returned from a little vacay on the west coast of Florida near Ft. Myers. I fit right in with my skin cancer as Mohs Surgery Centers are as common as Wawa or Texaco. Here's Jane and me after the first day of sun.

SPF 50. Really?

Manny made me feel better everyday. I miss him. Manny is my poolside bartender who had Wednesdays off. I hate Wednesdays now. He's from Costa Rica and a father of 4 with a priceless piece of mountaintop property in his homeland. He's personable and hard-working and honest. Besides the delicious virgin daiquiri's made with fresh strawberries for my girls, he always made my pinot grigio a healthy pour. Love it. Even Jane said she missed Manny.

I did a back dive. In my mind (and only mine) I was an Olympian. Because I haven't done one in probably 20 years. I turned out about 30and my daughter said she was embarrassed because I was trying to show off. At almost 42, you're dang right. At first she was proud.

Then she headed for the Gulf. Where we all belonged. I can do back dives in Goochland but not with Manny. Sniff.

My workout scheduled suffered a bit...

Yoga everyday outside my condo with the lizards and snapping turtles watching but only one decent run. It was a really, really good one. Made me remember I am a runner. On the beach, on the pavement, on trails. Always in my heart. Felt darn good. What happened? Maybe it was Manny. He made me remember the glass is always half full. Or more.

When was the last time you did a back dive?

Do you smell your fingers?

2010-06-22T09:08:00.000-04:00

You would if you had this stuff on them...

My God. Chakra 2 by Aveda. Heaven. It's an authentic fusion of pure essential oils blended to balance the pleasure Chakra.

Whatever.

It smells mighty fine. I sprayed some in the hallway upstairs last night. My son, 12 and Way Too Cool says ways "What IS that? It smells really good." Apparently his second Chakra needed balancing. It has essences of sandalwood, orange and geranium. Why did I spend $30 on 3.4 ounces of Body Spritz? After a 'sing-to-the-heavens' yoga class with Allison she gently placed a towel on my face spritzed with this angelic mist. I have been thinking about it ever since. I tried to sniff my own face for hours after the class to recreate the sensation of utter calm and passion all rolled up into one. At least I wasn't sniffing my fingers. I don't do that sort of thing. Chakra 2 baby. It'll cure what ails you.

So I am leaving for Boca Grande, FL on Saturday for a family vacation with her...

I can't wait. Though we didn't plan it this way, this trip will be a mother-daughter extravaganza shared with my five siblings and their spouses and children. Extended family and some other friends are brave enough to join the Griswolds Going Tropical. And we are going to rock it. My husband and other two children will be swinging bats, winning tournaments (I hope) and taking names in Virginia. Halfway through the vacation my other daughter will join us and the Norman Girls will be in force. Except for her....

She just sniffed some Chakra 2. (Don't call PETA) She was just in the room.

What's your favorite smell?

Fat dancers

2010-06-18T11:40:00.001-04:00

I love to dance but am not built like a ballerina. I should have been a pole dancer. Here's me at 16... I'm too fat to be a real ballerina so they cast me as Arabian coffee addict. ( Act II Divertissement: Nutcracker).

If pole dancing were okay for virgins at a Catholic High School for girls I'd have been all over it. Instead I spent years playing roles like the tart, a man, the Princess Mother, a big-boobed member of the corps de ballet in most classic productions (Swan Lake, Waltz of the Flowers, La Bayadere, - you get the picture.) Very occasionally I got a solo because I could move and the skinny dancers couldn't make the quick change. I was trying so hard to be something I'm not: Long and lithe. But a dancer: I am. I'll never forget going to the soda machine for a drink during rehearsal one time (I know it's an oxymoron - like a nurse on a smoke break.) and the Director says:

"Clair, I hope that's diet."

It wasn't.

Now, I wasn't grow-to-the-couch huge just curvy and as my beloved Mother would say "Earthy" and "Perfectly Proportioned" (Whatever that means.) I was not created for point shoes but tap shoes, that's a whole other story. Instead of chasing my groove-on and the bass and the attitude which came naturally, I lurched for the tiara of the Sugar Plum Fairy - that sweet petite, airy creature who made people cry in a good way. It was not to be. She is not me.

Fast forward 25 years. I run to keep my weight down and because I love The Race. I teach exercise classes because I love The Performance and the wellness and the People. I practice Yoga simply because I love The Life. I dance every chance I get because I am.

Hmmm.. I hear Pole Dancing is fun and big boobs are an asset instead of a liability. I think she's beautiful

Be what you are. Are you?

I am not Meg Ryan

2010-06-12T17:41:00.001-04:00

Remember When a Man Loves a Woman?

I love that movie. Meg Ryan is an alcoholic. Her hot husband co-depends like no other and everything gets all messed up. After a trip to Mexico, a condescending comment about stirring coffee with a little spoon, and a stay at a 5-star rehab clinic, things start looking up. Love a good drama. Besides the fact I have always wanted Meg's hair, I have addictive qualities too (future post) so I mean no offense. I'm just saying, it's broad daylight and I haven't been looking for a nip in the garbage can. Sometimes a girl just needs to sleep. Nothing like a good nap.

Bikram says real rest or complete relaxation is like our gas station. It fills us up, making us ready for what's next. I like that. I always feel guilty when I take a nap. Above, it's Saturday. I ran 5.3 miles in 90 wet degrees and did 10 backbends. I worked for one hour and cleaned up the aftermath of my daughter's sleepover. Then I drove to softball practice to retrieve my little All-stars. I came home and made lunch for 2 of them. Then I passed out with my brown bitch and not because I'm Meg Ryan. I am a wimp. I couldn't take the heat so I passed out in the kitchen.

As a Bikram student, I was hopeful my nap would rev me up - get me ready for what was next. Here it is...

It didn't work.

Going for the Pinot Grigio now. Wouldn't you if you woke up to that?

What do you like to wake up to after a nap?