balance

Sometimes, when life gets too busy or unpredictable, you need to slow yourself down and rebalance. Some people self destruct, others become introspective. Some go for long walks or take a canoe out into the wilderness to think about life. Some people do yoga to relax and find an inner peace. Others may get creative with knitting or painting to calm their nerves.

Some get right into the middle of a river and start balancing stones.
I had heard about these sculptures before, in different parts of the city over the years, mostly in the east or west beaches

last weekend, these stone sculptures appeared in the Humber River in Toronto.

Artist Peter Riedel likes the impermanence of his sculptures.

"Just like people in life, my creations can easily be knocked down. Like so many things in life, the balance isn’t always up to us. We think things are perfect and balanced, but sometimes life has surprises for us too" He said. He likes that even through the stone creations may fall apart, they become a clean slate from which to create again.

woman in pink

There were only two of us in the gym, on an afternoon during +3oC temperatures.

I have decided that my new regimen will include spending a certain amount of time every day using the treadmill or elliptical, especially since walking in this heat just drains me of the will to live move.

I settled onto the more taxing of the machines with my water bottle and a newspaper section. Because the only way I can manage the elliptical is to be distracted from the fact that I am on an elliptical. I politely say hello to the woman in pink on the machine far off to my right. She is watching the television with subtitles for All My Children. I ask if I am blocking her view, because if I was I would gladly have used that excuse to move to the easier machine. But, no, she was fine. I notice that she is standing tall and elegant and I want to emulate this instead of gripping the bar for dear life.

I spend a fair bit of time programming the machine, organizing my water bottle on the little shelf and holding my newspaper as I pedal. I stare out the window, I read for a bit, I glance at the television, I read a bit more. I wipe off the sweat that is pouring down my forehead. I slow for a drink, but the water bottle is one of those with a wide mouth, and I have not slowed enough so it sploshes on my t-shirt. I check the time. 4 minutes. I realize I am panting. I furiously read a book review about a book I will never read by an author I have never heard of. Keep moving.

I decide I need a towel at the 6 minute mark and as I get off the machine I glance at the woman in pink. She is steadily doing what you do on her elliptical machine. Very fast. She has long, straight blonde hair. Not a strand seemed to be frizzed. I see no beads of perspiration. I am fascinated.

My hair is uncomfortably damp. My face, I know, is flushed (one reason I NEVER wear pink when I exercise). Keep moving. My legs are shaking, but to slow down is actually more difficult so I keep pedalling. I stop to drink some water. And rest. I cannot keep moving. It has been 16 minutes. Oh wait, plus the original 6 minutes. Yay, I actually went over the 20 minute level! I smile in pride. I wipe the sweat from my brow, my arms, my chest, my neck, my head... I try to stand upright as get off the machine. I try to breathe more slowly and less obviously. The woman in pink is still steadily pedalling. I feel a bit intimidated.

I move to the treadmill...

I move to the steam bath...

I move to the shower....

As I am drying my hair, the woman in pink comes into the change room. Still no beads of sweat, no frizzy hair. Still standing tall and elegant. She changes into street clothes and leaves, looking for all the world refreshed. I wonder if she was an illusion.

I think about another woman in pink, Pinklea.

She may or may not be an illusion, but she has bestowed upon me an award, so I like to think she must be real. And she lives in Vancouver where I hope to visit again some day....

A Prolific Blogger Award.

I'm not always particularly prolific, but now I have a responsibility to try harder.

And, of course, there are rules.

A Prolific Blogger must link back to the person who awarded them. That would be Pinklea. Done.

A Prolific Blogger must link to the original blog where the award is explained and add your blogname to Mr Linky so everyone else can read your prolificness. Done. I am #347.

Then, a Prolific Blogger must pass this award on to 7 other Prolific Bloggers.

Hmm. Well, if you think you are a prolific blogger and would like this award, it is yours. Take from me with my blessing. And keep blogging. Keep moving. And stand tall and elegant. And proud of your accomplishment.

Thank you Pinklea!

where I lean off centre

The last time I attended a yoga class, it did not go well. I was in a bad mood when I went (I think it conflicted with something I wanted to watch on tv - I am so shallow sometimes) and I found I was much less flexible and centred than everyone else (not really to my surprise, but I hated having it proven) and left in an even more bad temper, plus feeling very upset at my inadequacies. An after yoga treat of coffee and a scrumptious, freshly baked heated croissant dispelled any more bad thoughts and feelings. I vowed to return for more coffee and croissants after each yoga class. Unfortunately, the class and I did not belong together, the instructor tactlessly truthfully informed me and suggested I attend her beginner's class. This did not conflict with my tv show, but proved to be less 'beginner' and more of a 'let's lay out the mats and stretch'. She also spent a good 15 minutes at the start of each class nattering on about something irrelevant in her life about which I cared not a whit. Not what I had in mind. Which put me in a bad mood. Eventually, I decided I would rather pay to not go to class than pay to be in a bad mood. I just went out for coffee and croissants instead. Coffee and baked goods really help with my moodiness.

For several years though, I did attend a class with a great instructor. It was difficult getting up and being present by 11am - and even more so when she moved the class to 10am - but I faithfully went every Tuesday for at least one 10-week series each year for about 4 years. Which makes you wonder about the other class doesn't it? She later moved out of town and I've never found another good fit. At the end of each session, after having our little nap, relaxation on a mat time, people would often spontaneously describe how they felt, how something that morning was "so powerful". I must admit, I never ever felt the 'power' of yoga. Though I did feel the energy afterwards. And I remember the time (about the 3rd round of the 10-week sessions - so class #33 or thereabouts) when I realized I had been able to stay in position for the entire prescribed time without having to come out of the posture and lower my arms and shake everything up ever so unobtrusively and get back into the posture. Usually, I would focus on a tree outside the huge, loft window and count furiously to take my mind off the at first stinging, then searing, pain in various muscle groups.Sometimes I would fall over. This time, I couldn't even wait for the spontaneous outpouring of gratitude and reflection at the end of the class - I cheered and patted myself on the back immediately, I was so excited. Everyone smiled indulgently and gave me such encouragement. That was 'powerful', I guess.

I've been thinking about returning to yoga. Finding another class and trying once again to regain my balance and centredness.

First I need a pedicure.

where I make a plan

Right. So the other part of the story of the marathon on Sunday, the part you don't see in the photos, goes rather poorly. I couldn't find Sylvie in that silly looking running gear with the crowds at the finish line (we have only met in person once, but still email and talk on the phone since she temporarily gave up blogging [as Urban Animal]). But, I forgot to put her phone number into my cell phone, so instead of wasting more time, I thought I'd run home and get it. It was only 3 blocks. I used the time I needed to look up the number by catching my breath. Once the panting stopped and my heart rate returned to something a little less hectic, we connected and I sprinted back to our new meeting spot. I ever so gently steered her towards the nearest bench. My legs needed to sit. I can still feel a slight stitch in my side.

How sad is that?

Yesterday, I wandered over to the Y. Just to visit a friend, have a coffee, while I thought, again, about joining.

This morning, after work, I went inside.
Monthly payments will come off my credit card.
I had a 10 minute ride on the bike and a slightly shorter time on the treadmill.
I surveyed the other machines.
I wrote down the schedule of classes I want to take.
Yoga this afternoon.
Made a beeline to the steam room.

Now, I must rest.

Feel free to quiz me on my attendance record.