The Unfit Athlete

PRACTICE MAKES STRONGER AND MORE FLEXIBLE

Today Doug and I are celebrating our three year anniversary.  Three years ago today he took my hand when we were waiting in line for the Magritte exhibit at the  LA County Museum and that was that. He felt like home.  

This relationship - practicing loving and receiving love every day - has been a transformative experience.

Once when I asked one of my athletic cousins about her softball rehearsal - she corrected me.  "Softball practice."  She went on to say, "When you go to rehearsal you do the same thing over and over again, and when you get to the performance, you know how things will turn out.  With sports, you don't know the rules, you develop your skills, but you don't know what's going to happen in advance."

 The word practice reminds me of a time in my life when I was a yoga addict.  Though not a sport - it is something practiced.  And I practiced it enough that I have muscle memory and can still do many of the poses.  (Even unfit athletes have a few surprises.)

I started my practice when I was new to Los Angeles.  A close friend of mine wanted me to go roller blading on the strand -- though I was thinner, after blading two hundred yards,  I sensed impending doom and sat down on the concrete and took of the inline skates before I broke a bone.

 So, while she continued roller blading, I wandered into a Power Yoga class.  The instructor was a free spirited soul with a very spiritual practice and I was hooked.

Yoga is a lot like being in a relationship - each pose both builds strength and increases flexibility.  

The most important thing is to show up and be present.  

There is no final destination, the most experienced yogi wouldn't claim perfection in any pose.  

The greatest compliment you can give another yogi is, "You have a strong practice."

Doug and I have a strong life practice.  Both of us came to this relationship after living strong willed and set in our ways.  So, we practice flexibility and compromise a lot.  I'd say we're still beginners.  Lucky for us we have a lifetime to learn.

We've grown stronger for ourselves and for each other and have learned that muscling through a situation does not replace core strength and proper alignment.  (And if you understand that -- perhaps you have been a yoga addict too.)

We laugh a lot.  And dance with each other and our pets.  And because of him, I'm practicing sports and working at becoming more fit.

I will write more later.  But, now, I'm going to go home to have dinner with my fiance.  

Happy Wednesday!

  

MY FAT CELLS REMEMBER THINGS - SPECIFICALLY MY EMOTIONS

It might not actually be my fat cells - it might be sense memory or motion memory or muscle memory - but it feels like there is a whole mess of emotions in my belly fat waiting to erupt when I make the wrong move.  By "wrong" I mean...sports related.  Not just any sports - but sports from my youth.  Example...

I hate volleyball in general.  Don't like it.  Don't want to play it.  Don't like to watch it.  Don't really think about it or why I might hate it. 

My favorite part of being an adult is no gym class. 

So, I buy the Wii fit, as you do if you're an American dabbling with sports and becoming fit.  And I use it.  Mostly the hula hoop game and the penguin balancing game.  Oh, and  boxing.  Turns out I like beating Doug to a pulp on Wii boxing and it amuses him - so - game on.  Tennis is cool.  And those other balance games are strange, but oddly intriguing.  In fact, the Wii was going really well, until I thought, "Why don't I try all of the games - see which ones I like." 

Basketball - fun. 

Baseball - kind of stupid. 

Golf - not as fun as real golf.

Boxing - super fun. 

Yoga - a little odd on the balance board. 

Calisthenics - challenging. 

Volleyball - surreal.

Surreal?

The set motion (when you push the imaginary ball up with both hands) was fine. Spiking not a problem.  But, then there was this moment when I put my hands together to bump-the-ball, when a rush of emotion and memory gobsmacked me and I felt...12.  

7th Grade.  Yuck.

Jr. High emotions are for suppressing, not flooding, which is probably how they get into the belly fat to begin with.  However, I would prefer that with proper diet and exercise they evaporate rather than flood.  And I find it particularly unfair they flood while I'm trying to become athletic, when I'm exercising and eating well.  Something it seems the Universe would want to reward rather than punish -- 

But, who am I?  Clearly not the person in charge of fitness.

I believe I speak for all female television writers* when I say, Jr. High is the time when we traded in our athletic friends from childhood for our geeky adolescent friends.  This process doesn't sound so bad in my blog where I transform my pain into glib posts.  But, trust me, the process of discovering your best friend/next door neighbor who can run really fast isn't going to hang out with someone who can't is NOT as sexy as it sounds. 

In fact, it's a bit soul crushing.

Let me start from the beginning. 

As have gathered, I'm not athletic and I was not athletic in elementary school -- but, I didn't really know that.  How could I?   There are no organized sports in grade school.There was gym, which I don't remember hating in elementary school. 

We got to dance around with a parachute. (fun)  Bounce on those hippy hoppy balls. (also fun)  Jump on a trampoline (it was the 70's they didn't know they were deadly).  And - though we took it for granted - we wore our own clothing - no PE uniforms. 

Not bad. 

I didn't even hate dodgeball because I was so dissociative I hid in the chaos of the game.  I sort of ran around and didn't really notice if people were targeting me or not.  No one seemed to notice if I was hitting people with the balls I threw.  It was an individual sport.

So, when I went to Jr. High, I had the delusion I would reinvent myself as an athlete.  Specifically, I would try out for volleyball with my best friend/next door neighbor and I would make the team.  I'd have friends and everything would be terrific. 

I was willing to work hard and learn all of the moves and practice.  What I did not understand was other girls new the moves already.  Or if they didn't, they had something I did not, hand-eye coordination that surpassed a five year old.  Other children had parents who gave a crap about sports and taught their kids how to catch and throw.  I did not.

(In all fairness, I'm sure there were the requisite balls that were rolled and tossed when I was a toddler.  But, my parents didn't really do any follow up on that skill set.  Once I could walk and talk any additional practice regarding physical activities was my domain.  And it wasn't really where my head was, so I focused on other things like watching TV and putting on plays, writing stories, doing other artsy stuff.

So, now I'm 12, in Jr. High and I want to be an athlete, play volleyball and I have no idea I'm horrible.  But, I did have a can do attitude so, I tried out for the team.  By my estimation -  I did pretty well.  I had some difficulty, in that I did not hit ONE ball over the net - but nothing that practice wouldn't improve. 

My best friend/next door neighbor did very well.  She was also a favorite of our gym teacher and had scored a ride home for us from her (we lived many miles away from the Jr. High, so doing after school activities meant finding rides home because our mothers worked).

After try outs, we piled into our teacher's car.  As I climbed into the back seat of her car, I still thought I might make the team.  But, as we began to drive and my friend and my teacher began to talk, my hope began to fade.  Because my teacher began to COMPLAIN about the girls who tried out - specifically the girls  who couldn't serve. 

What were they thinking trying out for volleyball?  How could you possibly try out for a sport if you had no ability to play it?  What was she supposed to do?  Reject them.  She couldn't let them play, it would ruin the team! 

Their conversation continues in this vein.  I don't think she was being mean, I think she just didn't pay attention to my audition because it was so bad.  But, I sit in the back seat feeling smaller and smaller.  This is when most people would keep their mouths shut.  But, unlike serving a volleyball over the net, making a potentially horrible situation awkward for everyone is one of my God given talents.

I pipe up, "None of my serves made it over the net."

Silence.

I think the teacher mumbles something about practice and trying next year - she has to have some way to decide who gets on the team and who doesn't.  And being able to serve the ball over the net is a pretty good indication of whether or not you're going to be any good.

Interesting.

My friend was quiet.  I don't think we hung out much after that.  She played volleyball in Jr. High and all four years of High School.

Until Wii volleyball and that simulated volleyball bump - I'd forgotten all about trying to be an athlete in Jr. High.  And, frankly, much of my friendship with my neighbor. 

The good news is -- I watched a lot of television and that worked out well for me! 

*  There are a few female adolescent athletes in TV writing, but they are outnumbered so they don't talk about it very much.

STRONGER THAN YOU THINK

#1 New Sport I'm Trying -- Pilates

You may argue that pilates isn't a sport.  Sure, there are no pilates competitions.  But, I would argue what it lacks in sport-ness it makes up for with an unparalleled fitness contribution.  Pilates gives you a rockin' bod, improves core strength and helps you overcome injuries.  But, most importantly...

I like pilates.  It relaxes me.  It soothes me.  It feeds my soul.

Many of the activities I'm participating in are not so kind...

Such as... The crazy step aerobics/weight training/torture class I went to at my gym which had...MIRRORS so while I experienced my complete and total shaming I could also visually witness it.

Seriously, I'm not being hyperbolic.  It was terrible and there were mirrors.

First off, I really didn't understand what I was getting myself into.  I thought that I would just be able to do the aerobic part, sweat and be on my way.  

WRONG.  It was brutal and I was in way over my head.

 Women with rock hard bodies were packed into this room like sardines in a can.  The floor was a quilt of steps, mats, bar weights and hand weights.  Everyone there clearly goes to this class every week.  They all know each other and have made a pact to suffer.  In the first minute it was obvious I wasn't going to be able to hang in for the entire class.  It was also clear that since I was - literally - in the space farthest from the door and the room was crowded, if I left it was going to be humiliating

So, I tried with all my might to hang in there. Fifteen minutes of crunching and squatting and stepping on and off, grapevineing left and right.  Until I turned purple and my arms and legs were shaking and it was time for me to either sit down on the floor before I passed out or leave.

And since the room was one giant mirror leaving was really the only option because I did not want to sit and stare at my own failure while watching other people observe my failure.  Woman in workout clothing -- we pay attention to one and other's successes and failures.

At that point I hop scotched across the floor, trying not to make eye contact or bump into anyone, trip over the weights or put my gym shoe on an exercise matt.  No easy task.  The few times I did catch someone's eye she looked...annoyed.

Or maybe just resentful I was breaking free.  Not that they looked like they wanted to escape -- but, that's half the battle when you're an athlete, faking it, hiding your suffering, putting on a game face.

Did I mention there were mirrors AND other woman?  I had no game face and didn't have the fitness to back up my participation in that class.  We've all been there.  Right?

I did another 20 minutes on the recumbent bike and then headed home. 

After workouts like this, I need pilates. 

Pilates is brutal in some ways.  You work muscles foreign to anatomy professors.  Did you know we had abdominal muscles under our abdominal muscles?  'Cause I didn't... until I started doing pilates.  Now, I not only know about them, I've USED them.

 Last week, my usual instructor wasn't available so, another woman substituted.  We were working on a move that is for all intents and purposes a straight legged sit up.  I try to sweep up in a graceful movement, but my abs aren't strong enough.  When I get halfway up I tell my instructor, I can't go any further.  She puts her hand on my back and says, "That's why I'm helping you.  You aren't doing this alone."  

We do a few more.  She keeps her hand on my back, until the third or fourth one, I go up and her hand does not.  At which point she says to me, "I was never helping.  You're stronger than you think."

Which is probably why I was able to do the the hop scotch of shame, because I am stronger than I think.  Yay me!  And ouch.

FIT in 2010

Happy New Year! 

 Hellllooooo TWENTY-TEN!  I'm glad you're here.

2009 was one of those really high-high years (became a full time writer).  And super low-lows (one of my beloved cats passed away).  So, I am truly ready and excited that 2010 is here!

People who know me well, know for me, excitement is a subtle thing.  I tend to be calm and understated.  Perhaps a little dry.  But, I don't feel understated about 2010.  Or fitness or health in general.  I feel MOTIVATED AND ENERGIZED.

Even though I have a cold and my bosses won't let me go to work, which also means that I'm not working out today, because apparently part of health is giving your body time to actually heal itself.  So, here's your time, body.  Heal yourself.  Because we have some ass kicking to do this year!

Specifically, my own ass.  

I've got goals:

1.  Move 1,000 miles this year.  Bike, swim, walk, run, whatever, for 1,000 miles.  Log the miles.

2.  Experience 12 new sports.  One a month.

3.  Publish an entry to The Unfit Athlete blog once a week.  (On Wednesdays).

4.  Discover what fitness means to me, mind, body and soul.

5.  Cook 24 new healthy dishes this year.

Those look like good doable goals for 2010.

Do you have fitness goals for the year?  What are they?