Quiet Running

I did another run/walk on Saturday - three miles with two walk breaks.  I recently read about a study of runners and injuries that found a group of runners with little history of injuries, and the difference was their low-impact technique.

It's good to be light on your feet, but how to do that?  I've learned that keeping my core engaged and running with a sense of lift seems to reduce impact, and the walking breaks I've been taking have helped keep my fresh - it's when I get tired that I lose tone and feel more pounding.

Saturday as I was running along and hearing the sound of my own running and that of others, I had that thought that running as quietly as possible could be a good way to find efficiency and a low impact stride.  At first I wasn't sure I could do it, but before long I was running along with almost no sound - and noticing more the slaps and clomps of other runners.  Everyone seemed to have a unique sound.

After work today I set out for a three mile run and thought I might make it without any walk breaks.  I quickly found the quiet form and focused on keeping that.  My plan was to keep going unless I couldn't maintain the form.  As I ran, I felt good.  A couple of times I began to land a bit harder, but was able to adjust and keep going.  When I started to feel the effects, it was fatigue in my quadriceps, not soreness, stiffness or pain in my ankles or knees.  Running quietly helped me keep a springy feeling, without plodding or jarring.  I felt better at the end of the run that I have in a long time.

Excavation

Confession - I keep too much stuff, I leave it lying around, then I pile more on.  Before long I've forgotten what is there, and I let it sit.

Today, I wanted to get size information about a pair of jeans I had bought and I thought the receipt was on top of my dresser, a few layers down.  So, I excavated, pulling everything off and sorting through it.  A few things I wanted to keep, but most was passé.

The excavation was a success, although I didn't find the receipt.  I got the top of my dresser back, and it's nice to have a little less clutter.

 

First Flowers

The wind was biting when I left work.  The office buildings funnel and accelerate it.  I hurried a few blocks, warming up from the inside as the wind subsided on the outside.  The second half of my walk was down the gradual slope from Georgia Avenue to Sligo Creek, under almost clear blue skies.

A little color in one of the yards caught my attention.  Could the crocus be coming up already?  Indeed - poking light purple blooms an inch or two above the grass.  Across the street, a little farther down, yellow blossoms of Eranthis covered the ground and when I reached the wooded area near the house, I saw clusters of white flowers from another plant that I've seen in the park but don't know the name of.

It must have been a few days since I walked that way, or all these flowers popped out at once. It was nice to see them, another reminder, like the lengthening days and the singing cardinals, that even though it still feels like winter, spring is on the way.

Swirling

A front moved through this evening bringing strong winds.  As I walked up the stairs and across the plaza from the Metro station, leaves and litter were swirling around in little vortices of wind.

I stopped to watch one for a while, swirling in a partly protected entrance area.  It moved around, but always circled back, and seemed quite persistent.  I walked over to it, expecting to feel some strong wind, but there was little power to it, just enough to blow the leaves.  I thought my presence might disrupt it, but I seemed wrong about that too.  As I left, the wind continued to swirl its captured objects.

Pale Crows

I walked home mid-afternoon, hoping to beat the forecasted thunderstorms.  The air has been thick with moisture today.  The level of my office, about 15 stories up, was well up in the cloud.

There was a light mist, and then a little heavier rain, for the first part of my walk.  After I reached the neighborhood, I walked about a block before passing under a huge maple tree.  Then I heard the crows, calling with the complex vocalizations of spring breeding season.  I looked up and saw the flock flying toward me, heading, as it turned out, for the tall tree.  The sound and the shape said "crow," but the color was flat, light gray.  The cloud was so low that even at treetop level the crows were masked by the foggy grayness.

Fog gray.  It's a nice hue for crows.  More ephemeral than their usual jet black, a bit ghost-like.

Where is the Energy?

As my retirement date approaches - now just over two months away - I feel my energy and interest shifting away from work.  I suppose that's to be expected, though it's interesting to experience.  I'm not making any effort to disengage, it just seems to be happening on its own.

At the same time, I'm spending more time thinking about things I'd like to do after I retire.  Outdoor activities seem to rise to the top, and I continue to find a lot of energy related to teaching yoga.  Even on a day like today, when I was tired and the weather was gray, wet and cold, I was energized by my two yoga classes this evening.

Monday's Run

I woke up early this morning (Tuesday) realizing that I hadn't written a post last night.  I had intended to, but a power outage earlier in the day had shut the computer down, and when it came back on, trying to reload all the programs that had been opened, it was bogged down.  By the time I worked through all the issues, closing out windows I didn't need and then restarting again because it still wasn't responding well, the intention to post had slipped out of my consciousness.

The singular memory of Monday was from my morning walk to work.  I had just a brief glimpse of the moon, large, bright and full, about to set in the west.

I left work in time to get in another short run before dark.  This would be the third day in a row, and I wouldn't have another chance to get a run in until Thursday.  I did another round of alternating jogging and walking - this time jogging for 60 breaths before walking for about 20.  One breath cycle is eight steps, and while 60 doesn't seem a very big number, I went almost a mile in 3 segments - 2 running and one walking.

I focused on being light on my feet, keeping my core engaged, and running with good form.  I also noticed the difference between the end of a running segment and the start of the next one, after the walking break.  My conclusion is that my endurance with good form is a lot less then my endurance just slogging along, and this approach of very slowly working into running shape is a good idea.  My hope is that I'll keep myself from a running injury this season.

After the run, I stretched out with some yoga.  Following where my body leads is a good way to find new combinations of movements and poses that I wouldn't have thought of.  My post-run stretch turned into a plan for my classes on Tuesday, advancing both my own practice and my teaching.  I like when things flow and connect up like that.

Making Some Space

In the 12 years we've lived in Maryland, the house has gradually filled with stuff.  When I moved Dad to Oklahoma in 2012, I came back with a van load of things that filled spaces downstairs.

As I looked around the house for someplace with space and light to make some simple yoga videos, the best candidate was the room downstairs, which has the most windows of any room in the house.  But it was a mess, and there was no space.

Saturday, I spent a couple of hours with one goal - to rid out and consolidate enough stuff to take down one folding table, that had things on top and boxes underneath.  Once that was done, there was a nice opening in the clutter but I didn't think it was quite enough.

What next?  I decided to tear down the drum set and pack it away in the closet, which made room to move some sound system components farther down the wall.  Now there was enough space along the wall for my immediate purposes, but there's still much to do.  The way my mind works, space feels good and calls for more space.  Clutter makes me feel stuck and I tend to ignore it for too long.

One of my retirement goals was to clean up and rid out, and it feels good to get a start at it.

A Little Run

Warm air pushed into the D.C. area today.  It's making a short visit, and tomorrow will be ten degrees cooler.   To take advantage of it, I went for an easy jog/walk in the park.  It was my first running in several months, and felt so awful at first that I wondered if it was too much.  After a bit, I slowed to a walk, then stopped to read an updated sign about the coming of spring, with a couple of excerpts from Robert Frost.

The park was full of people walking, running, cycling, playing at the playgrounds.  It was as if the houses had emptied out.  Any really nice weekend day of early spring draws people to the park, and today was extraordinary - mid 60's at least a month before one could hope to have a day so warm.

As I alternated jogging and walking, the jogging became more fluid, and turned into running, for short bursts at least.  By taking frequent breaks, I was able to stay fresh and light on my feet, avoiding the pounding that can come when I get tired.

This seems like a good way to easy back into the exercise - leaving the watch at home - and simply doing as much as it feels good to do.  

Sounds of Spring

I was meditating upstairs this morning, and heard a dove cooing.  Only in the hearing, was I aware that the sound of birds had been missing from the mornings of winter.  The sound brought to mind other mornings, when the soundtrack for my sitting was an orchestra of birdsong.  A little later I heard a cardinal singing.

So the birds have noticed the increasing daylight as well!  Even though nights are still cold, it's the season for them to begin staking out their territories for the spring.  Welcome back.  I look forward to hearing the sounds of spring.

Critter

It's winter, and people are getting sick - even yoga teachers - and so I have an abundance of opportunities to teach.  Last night, late, an email request to sub an 8pm class in Silver Spring.  Well maybe, but I have a class in Takoma that ends at 7:30.  Could I make it?  Check the Metro schedule - yes, just barely.  OK.  Reply yes.  Then email the studio to let them know what's going on and not to panic if I'm not there until right before 8.  All seems well.

Just before class in Takoma, Natalie sticks her head in the room - not looking well.  "Could you teach my Level 1 class later this evening?"  "Sorry, I can't.  I'm going over to Silver Spring to teach Morgan's class.  But I can teach the 10 am class tomorrow that you were subbing for another teacher who is out of town."

Then the hurry after class to the Metro - great, the train is 3 minutes early.  (a little way down the tracks).  OK, not great, the train is stopped.   Then goes.  Then stops.  Then goes.  Then stops.  Finally it pulls into Silver Spring, now 4 minutes late.  I hustle up the street to the studio, arriving at 7:58.  Quick change and a restroom visit, and I'm ready to go - almost on time.

So now it's after class, about 9:30, and I'm walking home.  It's cold, but not unpleasant.  I'm tired - exhausted really - and so I almost miss the dark furry shape hurrying across the street into some shadows.  Cat?  Really fat, furry cat?  No.  Oh.... raccoon.  Really, they waddle that much?  It has been a few years since I saw a raccoon in the neighborhood - but they must always be here - hiding away - and often I suspect - out where they could be seen, but they aren't, because we're distracted, not paying attention, or simply really tired.

Sycamore

Mid February, and the evenings are noticeably lighter now.  As I walked home, the air was clear and brisk, and the late afternoon sun lit up the light gray branches of the large sycamore tree that stands near Alton Parkway a couple of blocks from my house.  The smooth, gray and white patchwork branches that twist at random ankles and spread broadly make the sycamore one of my favorite trees.

Just Another Evening

I had an all day meeting in downtown Silver Spring followed by teaching two yoga classes.  The meeting location was just a block away from the yoga studio, so I had planned to stay downtown, teach, and then walk home.   Thinking about it a bit more, I decided to walk home after the meeting ended at 5pm, eat a little, and then drive back for the yoga classes, as the last one ended after 9 pm.

It took a few blocks of walking to settle into the feel of the evening, and then I began to notice the clouds in the sky lit by the setting sun.  I stopped to watch them for just a bit, then turned to walk on home.  Then I spied the moon - just a little more than half lit - high in the deep blue evening sky, and three vultures soaring in a circle, wings lit by the sunlight.

Just another evening, but so much to take in.  Another block of walking, and the birds were gone off to the east, and the light on the clouds had dramatically changed.  That's life.  Always changing, always full, there to be appreciated, or ignored.  The richness of our life experience is really up to us, and whether we are able to be present for it.

The Meaning of a Chant

The atmosphere changes from day to day.  Most days you can see well, but may notice some haziness of distant objects.  Some days the air is thick, and obvious.  Now and then there will be a day with crystal clarity - the air so pure that everything seems brighter, sharper, with more vibrant colors and deeper contrasts.

I wrote a while back about my observation that chanting Om was effective at clearing my mind:
http://mindfulday.blogspot.com/2013/10/om-and-etch-sketch-principle.html

Lately, I've been using four resonant syllables in my practice and some classes, which sound like "om - ma - ah - hum" - all in a single breath.  I enjoy singing it because it makes a powerful vibrating, resonating sound I can feel in my body, and it calms my mind.

After one class, a student asked - "what does it mean?"  I replied that it just is what it is.  Of course, people attach meaning to things.  Om itself has a long list of meanings, and I understand that Om ah hum is a mantra in the Buddhist tradition.  I don't care.  I'm only interested in that I enjoy making the sound, and in observing its effects on me.  That's what "direct experience" means to me.

Yesterday, at a class, I asked the students to notice how it felt to sit in stillness.  Then we sang om - ma - ah - hum three times, and sat for a bit after the sound had died away.  My experience was of distinct contrast and clarity in the stillness - not silence, because there was sound - the background sounds of the furnace and the world outside and our bodies.  But the stillness was deeper, and the remaining sounds were brighter, sharper, more vibrant.

What does it mean?  The stillness was deeper, and the remaining sounds were brighter, sharper, more vibrant.  That's what it means.

Visualization

I wanted to jump off the tower, but high places can freak me out.  I didn't want to climb up and then become afraid and not be able to jump.  To prepare myself for the jump, I used visualization.  I looked out at the tower from the balcony of our room and imagined myself walking calmly along the path over to the ladder, then up the 11 rungs to the deck, then across the deck and, with no hesitation, stepping out into the air above the ocean.  Imagining what it would feel like, seeing myself falling down, then disappearing with a splash before popping back up to swim to shore.

I couldn't imagine the full experience, but I could visualize all the actions I needed to take for the jump, and, to be calm and without fear, I needed simply to stay focused on those actions, one step at a time.

On Thursday, the wind was calm, and the water perfect.  I went down and dove in to get the feel of the water.  I looked up at the tower - "yes, it looks pretty high up.  OK, here we go."

I climbed out of the water and started walking steadily up the stairs and onto the path, then up the ladder and across the deck, and stepped off the edge, bringing legs together and arms by my side. Whoosh!

I was surprised at how utterly calm I was - no anxious "pit of the stomach" feeling - and how great it felt to experience the jump just as I had visualized it.

Relax and Let Go

I taught a class today for people working on hand stand.  This was week 3 or 4 of a 9 week course, and I was subbing for the regular teacher.

Hand stand is a difficult proposition for many, and teaching it is an excellent opportunity to teach some of the key concepts of yoga.  At one point, while the class was holding a forearm plank to build core strength, I encouraged them to relax any excess tension.  We always use more effort than is required, and then we hold it and it stays in our bodies for a while as tension that affects our subsequent practice.  Later, while they practiced pushing up toward a hand stand, I encouraged them to forget about the goal (getting all the way up) and just be with the experience - pushing up and feeling what it was like to have both feet off the ground and weight moving up over hands and shoulders.

After class two students came up to me with specific comments.  One said that my entreaty to relax while doing a strenuous pose was particularly helpful.  The other said that when I suggested they give up the goal of achieving a full hand stand, that he found he was actually getting more float time from his efforts.

It's gratifying, and an acknowledgment of the truth of the ideas, when instructions connect with the students so directly.

Ad-libbing Life

Yesterday I had to make quick plans to fly to Rock Island, Illinois to be with Pam and her family after the death of her father.  One of those things that pushes all normalcy aside.  Get on Expedia, find the best flights, buy the tickets - doesn't really matter what the price is.

Then get on email and text and start lining up subs for the yoga classes I'll miss - just trusting that people will be available - and they are.

Up this morning, and there's a text from another teacher asking if I could sub two of her daytime classes today as she wasn't feeling well.  Normally, I'd have thought I couldn't do it on such short notice due to work - but this isn't normal.  A light snowstorm, and a larger amount of fear about it, was disrupting commuting schedules, so I decided to work from home a couple of hours, then go teach the classes, then go on to work.  It was a good decision.

After work - back to the studio to teach two more classes - one a pre-arranged sub - and then my own late class.

Then home to pack, as I'll go to work tomorrow, then walk home, load the car, drive off to teach my Wednesday evening class, then go directly to the airport for the flight to Illinois.

I'm tired, but just taking things as they come.

Swimming in the Sea

Mindful Day had a week-long break while I was in Jamaica at a yoga retreat.  It was a very worthwhile experience, and I'm back with some new ideas and perspectives.  Space allows change to happen, and having a week away from all the normal activities, with time to practice yoga, swim, lay in the sun (shade mostly), read, and make new friends, provided lots of opportunity for new things to arise.  Swimming in the ocean was the top experience, aside from the yoga and conversations with people.  On the calmer days, I could simply float on my back, relaxing completely into the support and motion of the ocean and look up at the sky, which was wonderful.

Even at its calmest, the ocean is moving.  The power is so completely beyond me that there's nothing to do but relax into it. Then, for a little while, I felt like I was just a part of the ocean itself.