Warriors - come out to play!

Warrior Dash, 2012, is a fait accompli.  Check out the deets here.

Normanskill Run

Come on over and follow DelSo at my new WordPress site!  Here's the latest.

Shorter of breath and one day closer to death

The last in my series of posts inspired by Pink Floyd.

Read it over here, my new(ish) WordPress site.

Hot Yoga

post-Bikram

Seems like everyone knows about my passion for running, but did you know I have another activity that challenges and strengthens me?  Yep, it even provides balance for the physical demands of pounding the pavement as well as an opportunity to tune in mentally to my body in a manner that running, due to the necessity of remaining aware of what is going on in my surroundings,  does not offer.  May I present one of my favorite four-letter words - yoga!

I first experienced yoga as a sixth grader.  There was an after school program at my elementary building and I enjoyed it as much as a self conscious prepubescent girl could.  I was a very active kid and remarkably flexible, so it appealed to me immediately.  I think that 12 was a little young for me to grasp the mental component, though.  Actually, that probably remains my biggest challenge.

Over the years I've practiced yoga with varying degrees of commitment. When my older boys were young, I took a class at the JCC in Albany taught by Cameron Thomas. (Ironically enough, she mediated my divorce last year - small world, huh?) Cameron was the perfect yogi - she was meticulous about form and taught me a lot about the poses and breathing.

I've told you before how much I enjoy the Sunday morning class at the Yoga Loft, but I've been expanding my horizons, particularly while on vacation.  For the third summer, I've taken yoga classes taught by Patty Renaud in Wellfleet. The classes aren't incredibly physically challenging, but they do provide an excellent opportunity for me to mentally release.  I've been really close to dozing at the end of class - a true vacation.

Last winter when I was in Palm Springs (yeah, I like saying that) I found a studio that offered a variety of classes.  I managed to squeeze 4 classes in during my 5 days, two of which were modified Bikram classes.  I don't know much about Bikram, or "hot" yoga, other than it is an ass-kicking workout, even when it is abbreviated to 70 minutes and 102 degrees.

Last week on Martha's Vineyard I took two legit Bikram classes - 90 minutes, 104 degrees in the studio.  I wisely paid for two classes ($16 plus $2 to rent a mat) guaranteeing that I would return a second time.  Seeing as how during the initial class I was afraid that I was either going to die, pass out or puke, it was a good move.

If you are interested in a workout that stretches your muscles and relaxes your brain, I heartily recommend finding a Bikram studio.  I've heard good things about this place, but haven't yet made it there myself.  This type of yoga is not for the faint of heart - bring plenty of water and move into the poses with caution if you're inexperienced with practicing.  And be prepared to literally drip sweat from virtually every pore.  And speaking of that - apologies to those unfortunate enough to have set their mats up next to mine on Friday.  Hope I didn't sweat any of Thursday night's tequila on you.  I was on vacation, after all.

Treetops to Rooftops - 5K

image: Bob Kopac

Last Saturday, on what may have been the most beautiful morning of June, a couple of friends and I ran the 4th edition of the Treetops to Rooftops 5K in the lower Hudson Valley.  Or, to be more precise, over the Hudson River via the Walkway over the Hudson.  In 2011, this race was my first 5K since I had fallen in love with running, and revisiting the course a year later, gave me an experience beyond that inaugural race - and a time 2 minutes faster.

If you're looking for a stunningly beautiful, essentially flat run, this course is for you.  It begins on the west side of the Hudson in Highland.  Runners line up according to anticipated mile speed and traverse up a small incline and then onto the walkway.  If you haven't taken the time to visit this state park - what are you waiting for?  On a clear day, the views are unparalleled and on this particular morning, I swear visibility was crazy clear.  The east side of the river (Poughkeepsie) is lovely and wooded and the turn around to head west comes remarkably fast.  There was a single water station on the Poughkeepsie side, which seemed appropriate for the time of the race (8:00 a.m.).  

I don't know if you can tell from the photo, but I was absolutely joyful to be running this race.  At one point, maybe a mile or so in, I had to refrain from releasing a big 'ol "Yippee!!!" as I looked south along the river at the sheer beauty as far as the eye could see.  Magnificent!  There were 420 finishers this year and I was 11th out of 51 in my age group, 162nd overall.  Not bad, but there's always opportunity for improvement. 

This race is held mid-June each year, so keep your eyes open for the registration and plan to be there next year.  You won't regret it. 

Observations from a sunny day run

image: http://pics.livejournal.com

• There are way too many smallish silver sedans in this town.

• Folks continue to think that stopping their cars for pedestrians in a crosswalk is optional.  It isn't a choice, people.

• The sweat only gets in my eyes when I stop.  Keep running = non burning eyes.

• It was hotter than I thought and really sunny.  I should have used sunscreen.  But, damn, I think I have a tan!

Thoughts from a rainy day run...

image: http://cdnimg.visualizeus.com

• Interesting isn't it, the way "letting go" and "holding on" are continually swapping positions on the difficulty scale of life? Some days I just can't decide which is harder to do - or the right thing thing to do, for that matter. 

•  While I used to imagine my having less brains and more butt in my next life, I'm a bit surprised that the trade actually turned out to be an exchange of boobs for butt. Goodbye 36C, hello 32B. And that small almost curve in my tush? Thank you, hills of Albany Muni, for that.
  
• Exchanging today for tomorrow is not a good deal.  Nor is now for then, then being either in the past or in the future. Today is much more valuable. Even when it's raining.

Are you my mother? And who's my daddy?

image: http://blog.schoollibraryjournal.com

It's been a weird weekend...I kind of hit the wall on a number of levels, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say, hit the wall  with numerous body parts.  Truth be told, I probably used my head the most.  I had so many options available to me; concerts, and old friends, and art and strawberries, yet I kind of shrugged it all off.  Unlike many decisions in life, I didn't get that immediate tingling sensation that confirms many of my choices.  I'm thinking maybe I'm a bit numb.  Summer vacation can't come soon enough.

Despite feeling less than great (I'm about to pop my 3rd Aleve in 2 days!) I've maintained my commitment to running 20 miles this week and it has been a struggle.  The music hasn't been quite right, and even if it were perfect, my right glute is screaming louder than any song playing.  Not tremendously fun or satisfying.

On my run Friday, I passed two elder(ly?) women walking.  They were on the opposite side of the street and I was wearing contacts, which don't do all they should to improve my vision.  I was taken aback by one of the women - she looked like my mother.  I think.  The last time I spoke to my mother in person was when she attempted a "scar-off" to prove that her heart surgery was way worse than my cancer surgery could have ever been.  Ok, you win and what have we proven?  That you have a heart and I can cut malignant things from my life and prosper? Fine.

Well, it is a little disconcerting to not be certain whether a person is, or is not, your parent. You'd think this would be a familiar sensation for me, growing up as I did wondering if every single man with a brogue was my father, but it was still weird.  I had a familiar train of thought ride through my head.  What will it be like when she's gone?  Will I stop seeing her everywhere the way I stopped imagining every Irishman to be my father once I knew he was gone?

I'm getting ready to be a stay at home mom for 10 weeks and I plan to slow down, enjoy my boys and try really hard to make sure that they always know who their parents are, two people who love them dearly.

Rock & Run recap

SPAC ~ May 20, 2012

Can I blame my less than stellar time (28:27) on Max London?  No, probably not, but I can thank Capriccio Saratoga for the excellent Pasta Puttanesca carb load we enjoyed Saturday night.  I can also say,  that it was a hot morning and a hillier than expected course.  And a lot of fun!  I wish I had taken more photos but I learned during this event that it is really difficult to participate in and photograph the same event.  There were so many shots I didn't get, including of the bands scattered along the course, that I left feeling a tad disappointed.  Really though, how down can a girl feel after running on a beautiful day with a couple of great friends?

This was the third year for this event and I'm already looking forward to running it again in 2013.  And besting my time, of course.

Light(en) up

image: edia.treehugger.com

After a day booked so full of errands and chores that the only thing I didn't schedule was time to breath, I took a long run tonight.  There were moments when I knew I needed to take a break and walk, but I didn't.  The route I took was  a new one to me and I mentally dubbed it the "big girl route."

The run was the perfect, late spring evening run - absolutely sublime.  There were only good smells, and the moisture in the air which felt like dampness this morning, now only added to my glisten.  My mind let go and provided a good example to my muscles which released as the miles ticked off.  I began considering all the meanings of the word "light" and realized that I had been using it pretty exclusively as a measurement of illumination.  But, didn't it describe so many other actions?

I ran past gatherings of people on porches and decks and stoops.  One group of second floor porch dwellers taunted their buddy in his convertible to "Light 'em up!!" I hadn't heard that particular phrase in so long that it caused me to remember another phrase of the same era - "Light up." I smiled a bit broader. 

I approached a corner and continued straight instead of making my usual left turn.  I was unfamiliar with the traffic light I now faced - new territory, more exhilarating than scary.  I saw a beautiful grassy lawn behind a romantic brick wall and the most meticulously maintained home I had never noticed.  

I continued and thought about how important it is to lighten up sometimes.  Stop carrying that which weighs us down.  Or maybe share the burden with someone.  Consciously release to something new.  

You remember the steps - Stomp hard on the gas.   
                                          Inhale deeply.        
                                          Let go.                                                    

Rock n Run

Delmar Dash Day

I haven't really written too much about running lately...because I've been too damn busy running!  I ran a couple of races in March, including the Running of the Green (4 mi., 37:10) and the Ice Breaker Challenge 5k (26:25), while April's focus was the Delmar Dash (5 mi, 43:50).  You should know that I never imagined being able to bang out a 5k like it's nothing - when did that happen?  As far as running 5 MILES - well, I certainly didn't ever think I would be able to do that in my lifetime.  So, you know what that means, right?  Time to start pushing to 10k distances! 

I've been running with a couple of girlfriends and we're exploring the Normanskill, as well as the Pine Bush.  I love running down by the 'kill and would love to organize a couple of moonlit runs during the warmer months.  I think we could do a sweet 5 or 6 mile loop through the Normanskill area to the back nine at Capital Hills and then across New Scotland to Whitehall and back to the DelSo.  If you're interested let me know.  We'll probably have to be semi-stealth about it - shhhh.  As far as running in the Pine Bush - wow!  It is challenging and beautiful and kind of scary (ticks!), but it is also the perfect spot to meet my Niskayuna running friend, Chrissy.  And did I mention that it is stunningly beautiful?

May promises to be fun with the Rock and Run 5K, especially fun, in fact, if you're hitting Saratoga Saturday afternoon for a quick spin through the park's trails followed by a nice dinner and perhaps a cocktail.  Or two.  The run doesn't start until 10:30 Sunday morning so there are definite opportunities for fun!  Why don't you sign up, too?  Let's make it a real party.

Ice Breaker Challenge

I ran today for a loved one.  Actually, for the loved one of a loved one, which I guess is loved-one-once-removed, but these particular loved ones aren't going anywhere.  They will not be removed.  

The run today was a benefit for the Albany Rowing Center, ARC.  This club promotes and supports rowing and  I have some familiarity with it as a once-upon-a-time recreational rower and a spectator to those who were bitten by the rowing bug.   A million years ago, I was a rowing widow and I got to know some of those hardy rowing types. (If I ever witnessed my-then husband checking out girls it was in admiration of their potential to row.  True story.) One of the men I met through ARC died yesterday from cancer.  And today I ran.

Although I only knew Rex Babin casually on a personal level, his professional work said a lot about who he was.  Smart, daring, and strong.  He came, on my request, to a school I worked in many years ago,  to speak to the students about his work.  It was a pretty far drive, about 40 miles round trip, which is a lot to ask, but he was agreeable and did a wonderful job sharing his perspective and talent with a bunch of teenagers in Greene County.  I think I sent him a thank you letter.

And back to the run this morning.  I ran a path that would have been familiar to Rex Babin from his ARC days, surrounded by determined people stretching their muscles. There was a pink ribbon pinned to my UnderArmor for protection and inspiration.  My head was filled with thoughts of cancer and soft tissue and bones and being a warrior.  I improved my personal record today on this ice breaker, heartbreaker course.  

And then I came home and ate these waffles, with my boys.  FU, cancer.

                    

Incredibly well adjusted

The first time I went to a chiropractor I was in a bad way.  Although I can't recall the exact nature of my complaint, I'm sure it originated in my lower back because that was where things used to hurt.  I remember being a bit hesitant about having my back "cracked" and feeling awkward about the process. I was skeptical about what the results would be, too. I mean, after all, it wasn't real medicine, right?

Lee Masterson, at Delmar Chiropractic at 204 Delaware Avenue, has been my go to guy since the practice opened in 1999, the year my middle son was born.  I was committed to having a natural childbirth experience and felt that it was important that my body be in alignment to facilitate this process. What I hadn't correctly anticipated was my need for regular adjusting post-birth.  I can't imagine I was alone in "bumping" my hip out to provide the perfect straddle spot to support my infant, yet my body took it personally.  And revolted.  

One of the things I most appreciate about Lee is his respect for the integrity of the body.  He works in concert with my spine, my muscles and my lifestyle to help me maintain my good health.  During the years when I struggled with back discomfort, he taught me to recognize and address my body's complaints and I feel much more confident in my ability to assess my state of wellness.  I make it a habit, particularly these days as I approach 20 miles of running per week, to check my posture and eyeball the levelness of my shoulder and hips.  When things don't feel or look right, I call Lee's office and arrange for a maintenance appointment.

I'm really fortunate to have health insurance which covers chiropractic care and a visit costs only a co-pay.  My oldest son as a toddler had an issue with a slightly inverted foot and Lee saw him for $3 a visit, his age at the time.  How's that for commitment to your practice?  On occasion over the years, I've seen other providers in the DC office and I have been consistently impressed by the care I've received. I certainly can't claim to be completely balanced in a life filled with boys, work and exercise, but I can say with complete confidence that my skeleton at least is very well adjusted.

The luck of the Irish

What a day I had on St. Patrick's Day! I mean how can a colleen complain about a day that included a flat 4 mile run, a creamy pint of Guinness and a vivid voice from the past reminding me who I am?

My day started with The Running of the Green (Island). I remember signing up for the race shortly after I participated in a 3.5 mile New Year's Day run and thinking that 4 miles seemed an awfully long way to run without stopping. Yesterday, though, between the camaraderie of a contingent of green-clad runners, the mild temperature, and the sun breaking through the clouds, it really wasn't too far to go. And that was before Karen and I had decided to celebrate our efforts with a pint.

On a day which typically means excess, particularly in Albany, Karen and I knew we were only having one. Seriously, it wasn't even noon - who the hell did we think we were? Our car pool rendezvous point had been the Corning Preserve parking lot so we headed over to the nearby Olde English thinking (correctly) that we would beat the overindulgent crowd. This was the maiden visit for both of us and we couldn't have been happier. Well, maybe if Matt had been there, but, that aside, it was the ideal spot and I very much look forward to returning on an occasion when I can sample a few more of the offerings.

And - that voice from the past? As is often the case, it came from the most unexpected place. I was tossing some crap out of my basement as I work towards being fully responsible for the condition of my home. There was a box of books that had been residing in the dankness of the cellar for a decade and a half and it was time to "discard"* them. As I removed one, a green envelope slipped out from between the swollen pages. Oddly enough it was a St. Patrick's Day card I received in 1992, my senior year of college. I had spent the first three weeks of that particular year in Ireland getting to know my father's family and was feeling very connected to my heritage. I returned to Albany with a new sense of self and an inner peace that I have done my best to nourish in the 20 years which have passed. The man who gave me the card had included some thoughtful words about my roots and my new found identity. While his words continued to touch me despite all the years which have gone by, what made the largest impact was my forced recollection of who I was then and who I want to be now.

The relationship I shared with that long ago man was romantic and passionate and filled with intensity. And doomed. There was no future in it and an observer to it once characterized it as creating more heat than light. She was right. But, as is consistent with all the human interactions we have, I learned from it and wouldn't be the person I am today without that experience. On a day of firsts, a reminder from the past seemed oddly appropriate and I'll be considering the message far longer than that delicious pint lasted.

*librarian talk for get rid of

The sharing of the green

image: albanysigns.com

Spending winter skiing at Albany Muni Capital Hills has been one of my favorite outdoor activities for many years.  The quiet beauty of the Normanskill, the cardinals and bluebirds, the sense of isolation in the midst of a residential neighborhood in a small city...it is a special place.

This winter, there wasn't a single day's worth of skiing there, for me.  The right conditions never arrived this year to entice me out to ski those hills and paths, yet,  I probably spent more time on those greens than ever before.  Running.

The coincidental timing of lack of snow and my excess of interest in running was perfect. The consolation was an easy one to swallow during the most mild winter I can recall and, as the almost anticlimactic seasons shift, I am struggling with giving the course exclusively back to the golfers.  With the date of the course opening moved ahead to today, St. Patrick's Day, I'm wondering if there isn't a way runners and golfers could share this wonderful jewel.

From what I understand (total hearsay), runners are not permitted on the course during posted hours.  The rationale I've heard involves the perils of golf balls and the distraction of Lycra clad joggers.  I understand how these may be dangerous to both those with the clubs and those with the Nikes, but are the risks to a runner greater than the dangers of riding in one of those golf carts?  Wouldn't the odds of a rider being hit by an errant golf ball be similar to those of a runner?  Has this been studied?  Damn it, is there empirical evidence?!?

I don't play golf but imagine there is a certain focus required to be an exceptional golfer. Seems to me that professional golfers hit the ball with thousands of people surrounding them.  The only behavior of the crowd that I've seen (on television when absolutely nothing else was on or I couldn't find the remote) corrected was their volume.  I mean, I've seen some shushing.  When I run, I don't really talk, so that wouldn't be a concern at all.  Promise.

With some creativity, mutual respect and a wee bit of luck I am certain golfers and runners could share the green.  No malarkey.

Can't get no satisfaction

If only everything was as good as Yono's pork belly

Maybe this is the payback for eating a mess of pork belly and bakmi last night?  Despite the brilliant warm sunshine today, I seem to be having the most frustrating day I can remember.  Here's how it has gone down, dare I say, so far...

Woke up and recognized that with that hour being stolen from me (and you, too!), there was no way I could do the three things I had hoped to manage.  And still feel like I had a day off, that is.  Immediately cancelled my lunch plans via text and allowed myself to imagine an afternoon reading the paper and puttering.  Ate some breakfast and walked to yoga and found the parking lot surprisingly crowded.  Realized that today was a special workshop or something and there was no Sunday morning Sadhana.  Consoled myself with thoughts of leisurely reading the paper and perhaps doing some yoga at home.

Bought the paper, walked home and grabbed my scissors to clip coupons.  What?  No coupons?  Did some investigating and determined that none of the "good stuff" was in my paper - no coupons, no book reviews, no weekly restaurant skewering or "journalistic" ridiculousness to mock for the week.  Someone at Stewart's didn't do their job correctly.  Crap.  Hopped in my car to go to Lowe's for some moth traps so I can finally confirm that the closet moths are truly gone.  Guess what I found on the shelf?  Yep, nothing.  They're all out.  Merde.

Decided to stop in at Marshall's in the still optimistic mindset that perhaps I could find something green for next week's Running of the Green.  Nope, definitely not experiencing the luck of my people today, unless you're considering the Potato Famine era.  Drove to the pharmacy to pick up the two prescriptions I dropped off last week, fully prepared for them to be closed.  Was slightly gratified to see the Open sign illuminated.  Was completely nonplussed when the pharmacist said he didn't have enough synthroid to fill my order.  Of course, he doesn't.  Why would he on such a day? Scheisse.

So...what to do?  How about a load of laundry and hope the machine doesn't break down?  Maybe rake the front yard and release those crocus from the leaves and debris which have sheltered them all winter.  Rake the back yard, as well, because it is something I can do without relying upon anyone or anything else.  And go for a run.  Better make it a long one.

Personal Inventory

image: echrblog.blogspot.com

I recently admitted something to myself, which naturally means I need to share it with you... I've got a bit of a pre-running ritual. I won't divulge all the personal details, yet, but, basically it includes a lot of peeing, preparing my iProduct (music and running app) double knotting my laces, moisturizing... It is kind of involved. I am getting more efficient about it, though, and I've accepted that this what I really need to do to be in the best position to enjoy my run. I'm okay with it.

Once I finally get out there, the first mile of so of my run also involves an inventory of sorts. Typically this part of my run is what I would consider to be the most difficult piece. Or at least that is what I've always thought.* Something changed a bit recently, though,  and my perspective has shifted.  I now recognize that the first 8-10 minutes are when my body is simply saying hello. The twinges, aches, pains, sensations are all means of communication, and I'm learning to tune in and listen. Hips, quads, calves, feet, all checking in and informing me of their presence. My body is just waking up and wants some attention.  I'm working hard to respect and accept this process knowing full well that the hurt is temporary.  The ultimate reward, being fit and strong, and anything, please God, other than numb or unstimulated, is endless.

There was a moment recently when I considered an alternative to running and being physically active, wondering what it would be like if I opted to keep my body quiet instead. I'm sure there's something to be said for an existence of muted living, but that is not for me. Because, feeling alive is a prerequisite, in my mind, to being alive. When I place myself in a situation in which I am vulnerable or challenged, I do it with consciousness. Better to expose myself and risk feeling something, than to cloister myself and avoid the risk of exertion. I'm definitely more inclined to feel the pain knowing that my strength will only be stimulated by the threat to my comfort and, at this point in my life, I know one's strength, or lack thereof, becomes most evident when a situation demands it. That is when we truly show what we are made of, action by action, muscle by muscle.

*I've come to realize the worst part of any run would be not taking it..

How do you negotiate a mountain?

image gatetrails.com

Here.  You fill in the blank, as if you were me:  Today while I was _________ , I got to thinking about __________. Seriously, I'm getting predictable.  Anyway, this afternoon, I ran the back nine at Albany Muni Capital Hills, which has some monstrous hills, and I was mulling over how one gets to the top of the mountain - to the other side.  As I was making my way up the absolute biggest hill on my route, gasping and forcing my ever-so-heavy feeling legs up the hill, I took one peek at the top. Or at least what I perceived to be the top. Sometimes our minds play tricks on us, don't you think?  I locked in my goal mentally.

Once I knew where I was going, all I needed to do was focus on the next step. Again. Again. And again. My eyes carefully scanned the ground directly in front of me for obstacles, stumbling blocks. Sometimes it's like a regular steeple chase on the ungroomed trails, but it's never boring and my ultimate destination is motivation enough. My pace varied, the internal vision I have kept my drive strong.  Up I went.

But, I know there are other ways to scale a mountain. Some are devoted to a constant stare at the peak of that mountain. Gaze never wavering, a steady and consistent pace. Not eyeballing the ground immediately ahead, but visually projecting to some future place.  While I respect this other method of mountain climbing, it seems to me to lend itself to more frequent falters and falls. Because if you're not looking at what's next - if your focus is too distant, how do you leap the rocks in your path?  The piles of decaying leaves and the mud that sucks at your shoes?  How do you negotiate a mountain?

Dreadmill Blues

image: benjamuna.files.wordpress.com

When I first began running after my shoulder surgery, it was winter and I made use of the treadmill at the gym. I really had no complaints about the experience. I could listen to music, watched muted Home and Garden television and people watch - all at the same time without tripping. I was motivated by the display screen and played around with the incline and speed, watching the calories count off. Actually, it was probably one of the few times I considered myself to be a numbers person. I never really understood the blanket dislike of running on a treadmill, I mean, what's so bad about running like a hamster in a cage?  For outdoors time, I had the golf course for cross-country skiing. Remember when it used to snow here in the winter?

In the past couple of months, though, I've found myself  beginning to understand the disdain for this type of exercise. Maybe it started at the Greenbush Area YMCA where they have televisions mounted from the ceiling rather than individual screens on each machine.  It might have been the incessant FOX "news" assaulting my eyes that first turned me off to running as fast as I can without creating any distance between myself and something I find repulsive.  And if it wasn't that, the episode of Paula Deen "cooking" with canned mushroom soup and multiple sticks of butter certainly was enough to make me uncomfortable.  Gross.  But, I believe my major issue with running on a treadmill comes from the basic fact that I simply enjoying being outside.  In recent months, I've actually had a couple of moments when I've been running and I thought to myself, "If it all ended right now, I'd be happy."  I've never replicated that emotion indoors on a treadmill, believe me.

Quinn and I are preparing for our epic train trip later in the month and I'm a bit stressed about getting my weekly miles in.  I'm hoping to cob together some sort of babysitting when we're on the road and I'll bring a swimsuit also, just in case.  Last week when I was in Boston, the hotel had a running concierge - have you ever heard of such a thing?!? Apparently it is a weather dependent service, but I thought it was a really cool amenity to offer guests.  The timing of it didn't work for me, but check this out:

Now, granted, it was Boston and I always get lost in Boston, but it was an awesome little map nonetheless.  As I try to push my weekly mileage closer to the 20 mile mark, my acceptance of a lack of snow, (and thus no cross-country skiing), feels far more natural than running indoors.  Let's hope D.C., Baltimore and NYC offer opportunities similar to Boston or else the only thing more dreadful than the dreadmill will be my mood.

Sunday Mornings in the DelSo

I've always loved Sundays - fat newspapers, leisurely breakfasts, a second cup of coffee... They're just relaxing. For the last couple of months, I've switched things up a bit, though, delaying my TU fix until a bit later in the morning to squeeze in a little yoga at the DelSo's own Yoga Loft. Although adding something to a day doesn't always equate with enhancing well being, yoga, perhaps exercise in general, scoffs at this notion. Making the time to stretch my body and calm down my brain is an addition to my schedule that starts the day off with balance and community - ommmmmmmmmmmm.

The Sunday morning Sadhana is more of a shared practice than a class designed to instruct. The mood is mellow with lots of constructive observations, countless adaptations, and a decidedly casual feel. If you're looking to be pushed, this is probably not going to be your thing. However, if you're interested in exploring and sharing your practice, as well as making a monetary donation to a local organization, you need to get yourself to 540 Delaware Avenue Sunday morning.

Here's the skinny: Sunday mornings from 9:30-11 (isn't that a nice civilized Sunday time?) the Yoga Loft offers a weekly class with a rotating schedule of teachers.  The price?  Pay what you will.  Now, don't be cheap because the money is donated, on a monthly basis, to charity.  January's recipient was the Humane Society.  See?  Feel good physically, spiritually, mentally and karmically.  And, yes, karmically is a word. It's in the free dictionary.

Sunday morning bliss is only going to get more...ah, blissful, when All Good Bakers hits the space right next door to the Yoga Loft.  Good thing I can walk there - that parking lot is going to be full!