Bending Over Backwards

Young Yogi backbends with ease. Grrr.

See this kid? I used to be this kid. When I was little, doing a backbend was as easy as breathing. I'd push straight up from the ground, my belly arcing towards the sky, creating a tunnel for my friends to crawl through, laughing as they went through. Or I'd lean backwards, my hands stretching towards the ground as I folded myself in half.

Ah, youth.

What happened? Life happened. Although I had plenty of opportunity to flip and twist as a collegiate diver, practicing backbends was an increasingly uncommon occurrence the deeper into adulthood I ventured. When I practiced yoga — and even when I taught — the backbends that were visited and revisited were less extreme bends: Cobra. Upward Dog. Fish. Standing Backbend. The very infrequent Bow. The even rarer Camel. And that was it. Good thing that, in all the years I've taught yoga, my students have been Gentle and Restorative students for whom Bow and Camel were cause for quaking.

Except for that kid up there, known in the Instagram circuit as Young Yogi. He's my son, and his ease with backbends make me a) proud of his abilities b) jealous of his flexibility c) reminisce about the way I used to be d) all of the above.

As the years went by, even these backbends took a back seat to other yogic postures. The only backbending poses I practiced regularly were Fish and Standing Backbend. In fact, I soon devised what for years I called my Big Three: the three yoga poses I truly disliked practicing. I might even say hate, if I believed in using such a strong term. My Big Three asanas were Cobra, Bow, and Upward Bow, aka Full Backbend. It took me until this past summer to realize what these three poses held in common: they were all backbends.

Kino MacGregor backbending. Grrr.

I truly do not know why I developed such an antipathy towards backbends. It certainly didn't have anything to do with adulthood, because there are adults with amazing back flexibility such as Kino MacGregor, who travels the world sharing her love for and experience in yoga. It's not that I was sedentary. I've always been been athletic, and work didn't call for me to sit at a cubicle all day for years, slowly killing my flexibility. I just grew disinterested. It didn't help that a severe car accident (my VW and I were sandwiched between a tractor trailer and a Dept. of Transportation snowplow on a blizzardy Iowa highway) shattered my left wrist and damaged several of my thoracic vertebrae. Two surgeries and a heap of physical therapy followed and, as a result, I could no longer push up into a backbend. It simply hurt my wrist too much and, after having it reconstructed with screws and pins, I was too afraid to risk damaging it. And, with my injured back, bending deeply into anything was now out of the question.

Still, because I had yoga students and because I had visions of elderly women with kyphotic backs, I started doing the gentle backbends again. These were difficult and stressful at first -- I could definitely feel the strain in my thoracic spine -- and Camel and Bow were still intensely disliked. Upward Bow stayed off my radar... at least until one year ago.

In February 2014, I evaluated my personal yoga practice and came to the conclusion that I had cut myself short, limiting myself to what I'd taught my students over the years instead of taking into account my own personal abilities. In effect, I'd become a Gentle/Restorative practitioner. Despite my injuries -- both from the car accident and from assorted misfortunes as a competitive runner and triathlete -- it was time to kick it up a notch.

Upward Bow Pose, February 2014

My lack of practice over the years had indeed taken a tremendous toll on my backbending ability. I was most definitely not about to have any kids happily clamboring in and out of that tunnel! I found myself gingerly pushing up into position, afraid to further hurt my left wrist (which, at this point, had now been broken or fractured five times) and I was just generally inflexible. Lack of practice had made my back non bendy.

I decided to focus on improving my Camel Pose, which I viewed as the least stressful of my Big Three. I wasn't upside down. I wasn't fighting gravity from the floor up. I was on my knees, just bending backwards. I could handle that!

Camel Pose, February 2014

Well, not really. I had completely forgotten the Rule of Interconnectivity. In short, it's not just my back that does a backbend. It's my whole body. My hip flexors had to work eccentrically and isometrically to bring my hips into proper alignment directly over or just in front of my knees) and keep them there. My obliques and rectus abdominis had to kick in to control the extension of my back, and my scapulae had to maintain my shoulders in position as well, while my quads just cried quietly to themselves.

Camel Pose, 05/14 and 10/14

Once I set my sights on a goal, however, I'm almost unshakeable. I'm driven to achieve, and I was going to achieve Camel or else! I targeted my problem areas with Pilates, I consulted with running and triathlon coaches, and I practiced asanas that worked the muscle groups needed for Camel. I recorded my practice so that I could see how my alignment measured up, what weaknesses I had to address, and what, if any, improvement was evident. The day I was finally able to fix my gaze on the wall behind me was cause for celebration. Now I just needed to fix my hip alignment; compromising the position of my hips in order to get a deeper backbend is a very common habit in yoga and not one I wished to embrace.

Upward Bow Pose, August 2014

In August 2014, I participated in an Instagram Challenge. To be honest, I don't even recall the name of the challenge. I just remember that I was driving home from visiting my husband at his Army base when the notification of the day's pose scrolled by on my phone. At the next rest stop, I paused to check in and discovered, to my dread, that it was Urdhva Dhanurasana, Upward Bow or Full Backbend. Eeeep. I chose a grassy spot somewhat away from prying eyes, set up the camera, and hoped for the best. To my shock, I pushed up with ease... and, more importantly, without pain! I couldn't believe it. I was so stunned by this that I stopped at the next rest area to try again. I was backbending without issue again! Sure, I still wasn't anywhere near what I'd been in my youth, but I was strides ahead of where I had been in February and without the struggle I'd gone through to hold the pose. It was the Rule of Interconnectivity again: all the work I'd done to improve my Camel had improved my Upward Bow as well.

Camel Pose, January 2015

By September, I had removed both Upward Bow and Camel from my Big Three (Bow is still there, but that's another story!). Camel has become one of my favorite poses to play around with, changing arm positions, binding a leg, and working to deepen the bend. I even included a photo of myself doing Camel in a desk calendar I gave my husband for Christmas. I've brought my hips into proper alignment and I am now working on getting my hip flexors to release even more so that I can drop fully backwards into the pose known as Kapotasana, or Pigeon Pose.

As for Upward Bow, I continue to work on deepening the arch and bringing my arms into better alignment... a rather

Upward Bow Pose, January 2015

lofty goal, as rotator-cuff surgery has left my shoulders with a limited range of motion. I can walk my hands backwards down a wall to achieve Upward Bow, and I can lift one arm, one leg, and even one arm and one leg simultaeneously without losing my balance. I am also working on slowly inching my hands and feet together, with the hope of someday achieving Chakrasana, or Wheel Pose, in which the hands grasp the ankles to complete a full backbending circle. That's in the distant future. Then again, I have registered to attend a Backbends Workshop taught by Kino MacGregor this April, so who knows what I'll be able to achieve in just a few months!

Splitsville

Life has a nasty habit of getting in the way sometimes. In my case, the arrival of spring meant the arrival of racing season. As a competitive runner and triathlete, my attention turned to training at the track, on the trail, in the pool and lake, and on the bike. My yoga practice never faltered — there hasn't been a day since I started my yoga journey that I did not practice yoga in some form — and I of course continued to teach my yoga classes, but my blogging practice certainly took a nose dive. I'm sure everyone who took the time to read this blog thought I was gone for good.

But just as life sometimes throws obstacles in our path, it also offers surprises. My return to this yoga blog can be considered one of these! I would love to say that I will blog faithfully each week from hereon in, but I also know that I simply cannot predict what life will bring. I will, however, make a conscious effort to post here as regularly as I can.

That being said, Splitsville also refers to one of my chief focuses of 2014: achieving Hanumansana, or full side splits. As flexible as I may be, I had never been able to do a split. Let me amend that: I was able to do a full slide split once, when I was nine months pregnant with my son Jaeson (aka Young Yogi on Instagram) and had his added weight to help drive my pelvis downward. Other than that one occasion, doing the splits was a pipe dream.

My Hanumanasana attempt for the June 2014 challenge.

In June 2014, I participated in a yoga challenge on Instagram. For the month's final post, one of the hosts, Nick, instructed us to post our impossible pose: the asana that we could only dream of achieving. It took me a nanosecond to realize that, for me, this was Hanumanasana. I posted my best attempt at this posture, as sad as it might be. At the end of the day, Nick further challenged us to continue working on our impossible pose and to post a progress photo at the end of July. The heat was now on, since I sometimes cannot back down from a challenge. Thank heavens we don't live in the age of thrown gauntlets.

My split at the end of July (top) and August (bottom).

Every single day in July, I faithfully practiced Hanumanasana. Oftentimes I thought my efforts were futile. I didn't see how on earth I was going to ever get myself any closer to the ground than I already was — which was hovering about a foot off the floor. Still, I refused to give up (I'm stubborn like that). At the end of July, I posted a follow-up photo: the top photo in this collage (I'm wearing black). I was amazed to discover that I had indeed made progress! No, I was nowhere near a full split, but at least now I was an inch or so closer to the ground. I continued my daily practice for another month and, at the end of August, I was hovering just inches off the ground (bottom photo in the collage).

I unfortunately suffered a huge setback in August: I severely pulled my left hamstring in a 5K swim race. Weeks of physical therapy ensued, which helped somewhat, but I could not escape that strained, pulling feeling at the back of my left thigh when I practiced Hanumanasana. From my running and triathlon networks, I knew full well that a hamstring injury could not only be painful but career ending. I had too much invested in upcoming races to risk further injurying that muscle. I cut back drastically on my workouts. I completely eliminated biking from my training regimen as well as swimming, since that is how I injured myself in the first place, although I did swim, bike, and run in the season's last triathlon (in which I won my age division and placed 5th overall... go figure). As for Hanumanasana, I no longer practiced it daily, and I knew — I KNEW — that I was losing the ground I'd worked so hard to gain.

Holding pattern: my split in October, still hovering by inches.

In late October, at my follow-up with my sports medicine specialist/orthopedist, he asked how I was doing with the injury. I told him the truth: that I didn't feel it was healing well, despite the therapist's note that I had regained some strength and range of motion. He asked me what made the hamstring hurt. I replied by dropping into Hanumanasana. The look on his face was priceless! He went on to comment that 95 percent of his patients don't drop into splits or run marathons yet continue to complain about their hamstrings. He set a follow-up appointment for December and told me to continue with the home exercises the therapist had given me.

Still concerned about sidelining myself completely by pushing the hamstring, I still avoided biking and swimming and just ran gentle 5K and 10K distances to keep myself fit. I focused more on my arm balances and inversions, practicing Hanumanasana perhaps once a week. To my surprise, the effort I was putting into my leg positions in other poses was actually helping me with Hanumanasana. Not only had I maintained what flexibility I had achieved, I was now in full contact with the floor with my left leg!

01/24/15: As far as I've gone in Hanumanasana.

It's late January now and, yes, I am still in therapy for that pulled hamstring. I have started swimming and biking again, since my new therapist explained that strengthening the injured leg would help with the healing process. My expectations for Hanumanasana have been modified, however, thanks to a series of MRIs that reminded me not only that I have a bone tumor in my right hip but that the hip is shifted downward and outward, preventing a full split alignment, and that there are definite signs of osteoarthritis and labral degeneration. There isn't much I can do about the turned-out hip or the tumor, but I am not going to let arthritis and muscle degeneration hamper me... too much! My focus is now on gently stretching and extending the right leg -- my back leg -- while in Hanumanasana. I may never be able to get both legs fully down, but I can do the best I can with what I have. And given that, for all intents and purposes, I've achieved something I thought was impossible a half year ago, I can only just start to imagine what else I am capable of achieving if I set my mind to it and work towards that goal.

Accepting the Challenge

In his book, They Accepted the Challenge, Charles T. Kuntzleman shared the stories of 18 athletes who overcame great obstacles and physical hardships —  leukemia, cerebral palsy, and more — to continue practicing the sport they loved. A professor of kinesiology at the University of Michigan, Kuntzleman has been recognized by the National Fitness Hall of Fame for his work in promoting physical fitness for everyone. He served as chairman for the Michigan Fitness Foundation and one of the Governor's Council on Physical Fitness Awards, the Charles T. Kuntzleman Accepting the Challenge Award, was named in his honor.

On Thursday, April 24, I had the privilege of attending the recognition ceremony for the 2014 Governor's Fitness Awards finalists, 62 individuals from various corners of Michigan who were nominated for the annual awards. From hundreds of nominees, these 62 finalists were selected by the Governor's Council for their perseverance, determination, and contributions to fitness. The Michigan legislature recognized these honorees at the Capitol in Lansing. That evening, at Detroit's Ford Field (home to the Detroit Lions), the winners of the awards were announced. In truth, while only one honoree could win each award, all of the nominees were winners.

Among the finalists — which included sports-equipment companies, a Team USA Paralympian, several individuals who'd lost hundreds of pounds in their fight against obesity, and a blogger who promotes outdoor activities for children — was one child, a 7-year-old boy who survived resuscitation at birth, congenital heart and urogenital defects, multiple
early-childhood surgeries, and developmental delays and partial deafness that left him unable to talk until past the age of 3. Gross motor skill issues prevent him from coordinating his arms and legs in unity very well; he struggles to use a bicycle or swim. He suffers from asthma and severe allergies and must always travel with both inhaler and Epi-Pen. Yet this determined child does not let any of this prevent him from being physically active. He trains in Tae Kwon Do, is a competitive runner, and attends yoga classes twice a week. Last month, he participated in his first triathlon, the only triathlete to use both a kickboard and training wheels. I have the honor of having this young man in my martial arts and yoga classes. His indomitable spirit leaves me in awe, and his enthusiasm is never dampened by the many physical challenges he has tackled and continues to face. Ultimately, he did not win the Charles T. Kuntzleman Award for which he was nominated by the director of one of the races in which he competes. However, this did not dampen his spirits. Instead, he applauded and cheered happily for his new "friends" when they were called up to accept their awards. I have the honor and privilege to call this young man my son.

I can only hope to follow in his footsteps as I find obstacles of my own cropping up in the paths to fitness which I follow. While I've never been one to back down from a challenge, some hurdles seemed almost unpassable. Due to head trauma suffered as an infant (long story; suffice it to say that my skull has a three-inch dent on one side), I have always shied away from Sirsasana (Headstand) and its many variations. Applying pressure to my skull often results in terrible headaches, so why risk that discomfort? It took me decades (literally!) to convince myself to just try the pose. I didn't have to succeed, but I would never know if I could do it or not if I refused to give it a shot. Over these past two weeks, I made Sirsasana my goal, and not just any Sirsasana: I had to be able to get into the pose away from the wall and hold it for at least eight breaths, if not longer.

Some may say I set myself up for failure, or that I demand too much of myself. Perhaps, but at least I was going to try.

Sirsasana (Variation)

I started some place safe: on the plush carpeting in my bedroom, with my husband's cushy recliner serving as my wall. Once I could raise my legs from tripod (the one variation of Sirsasana I've always been able to do), I started trying out variations. Could I put my feet into Baddha Konasana (Cobbler's Pose) while inverted? Could I try Padma Sirsasana (Lotus) while inverted? How about in Parivrtta Eka Padasirsasana (Front Split) ... umm, no. Once I was comfortable enough using the recliner as a crutch, it was time to take my headstand act into the studio.

Niralamba Padma Sirsasana

I had some spectacular falls (very glad my martial arts training kicks in instinctively). I had some realizations, including that I prefer Headstand 2 (hands on either side of my head, palms down) to Headstand 1 (hands cupped behind my head). I learned the hard way that I'm not quite ready to leave the wall for some poses, including Padma Sirsasana and a few of the more daring ones, such as Niralamba Padma Sirsasana (Hands-Free Lotus enjoy this asana. Headstand). But I also discovered that I could not only get into several variations of Sirsasana, but that I actually

Who knew?

Having overcome that obstacle, I now prepare to face an outcropping of new ones that have the capability to permanently derail me from the active life I have chosen to pursue. Not being a medical professional, I misread the signs and symptoms of one challenge that fortunately was caught before too much damage was done. My wrists are less than spectacular and have been for quite some time. I have fractured my left wrist four times over the years, once in a terrible car accident that shattered

Astavakrasana

it and required surgery and pins to restructure it. My right wrist (and my right shoulder, for that matter) were victims of an assault in a public parking lot several years ago. Despite these setbacks, I actively practiced my absolute favorite category of asana: arm balances. There's just something about the strength, grace, and balance of arm balances that captures my heart. I don't think a day goes by that I do not do at least one arm balance.




My wrists, however, started protesting a few months ago. They'd ache, and my fingers would tingle and go slightly numb, and even turn different (occasionally alarming) colors. When this happened, I'd ease up on my practice. Instead of doing, say, Astavakrasana (8 Angle Pose), I would do Lolasana (Pendant Pose) or Tolasana (Scale Pose) to give my wrists a break. And then came the Ann Arbor Marathon, a race I'd been anticipating for months. I was proceeding at a great pace, enjoying the scenery and having a great time, looking forward to my husband at the finish line and a possible personal record. Then, at Mile 11, I suddenly could not feel my feet. I felt as though I were running on stumps with floppy things tied around the ankles. I went from confusion to concern to fury as I realized that there was no way that I would be able to run 15 more miles without any sensation in my feet. With the organizer's approval (thank you, cell phones), I stopped at 13.1 miles, completing the half marathon but crying tears of anger for the abrupt end to my full marathon run.

My neurologist (remember that head trauma?) fortunately had a cancellation and, two days later, ordered a full work up of lab tests, including an EMG (a lovely test involving sticking 13 2-inch-long needles into m arms and legs and sending electrical charges into me to test my nerves' reactions). Prior to testing day, I ran a half marathon (adding 10 minutes to my time due to continually stopping to let the feeling return to my feet) and a 5K (no issues other than a poorly measured course). When the tests were concluded, my doctor told me to make a follow-up  to go over the results. His first available opening was July, and I dutifully scheduled the appointment.

Pincha Mayurasana

His office called the next day. They needed to go over the results with me immediately. Apparently, the tests showed "more than expected evidence of nerve illness/pathology in (my) right hand. Some of this is related to pressure on her ulnar nerve at the elbow and I'd rec she avoid using arm rests."

I don't use arm rests, unless you consider elbow balances arm rests.

The results also noted that the "sensory nerves are a little unhealthy" and that the "neuropathy makes it easier to injure her nerves and develop numbness with trauma to the nerves (such as her long distance running). I'd rec she run shorter races."

Two days later, I ran the Lansing Marathon. I ran it conservatively, so as not to cause trauma to my feet with my long-distance running. Every time I felt the telltale tingling, I'd slow to a powerwalk for a quarter mile or so until the sensation went away, and then I'd continue running. This only happened three times, and I was actually on pace to finish under four hours, until I hit mile 17. Or rather, until I stepped in a pothole near the mile 17 aid station and turned out my left ankle. Oh, yes, I thought some very colorful thoughts. I continued at a jog for the next two miles but, feeling the pain in my ankle, chose the slow but smart path and powerwalked for the remaining six miles. Except for the final 0.2 miles, which I sprinted, as is my custom. Right through the finish line, high-fived a friend who was waiting there, and ran right into the first aid tent. The paramedics there sat me down, iced and elevated my foot, then handed me an ice pack for my hands. I had failed to notice that my fingers had swollen to the size of Italian sausages during the course of the run. Yes, those were my nerves at work, being overactive and sending the wrong signal to my blood vessels.

I consulted with my neurologist again, who diagnosed me with Raynaud's Syndrome but noted that this was minor in light of the polyneuropathy I was experiencing. He scheduled me for a cervical MRI to see if any of this might be related to spinal-cord damage since "no possible reversible causes" had been found. Two days ago, I spent quite a bit of time in the MRI tube, because I was not only being imaged for my spinal cord but also for a bone tumor my orthopedist found in my right hip, one large enough to only leave a centimeter of healthy hip bone surrounding one side of the growth. Speaking plainly, continuing arm balances and competitive running can cause me to permanently damage the nerves in my hands, arms, and feet, while running might cause me to fracture that precious bit of healthy bone in my hip. At least, this is how I have interpreted my doctors' concerns. I will find out more when I have my MRI follow-ups with them.

If this is the case, I will truly have to rethink my approach to fitness. Running and yoga are not just exercise for me. They aren't just a means of losing weight. They're a lifestyle, yoga especially, as I have been practicing for more than 40 years. I don't intend to stop. I intend to find a way to continue somehow. The challenge has been issued, and I fully accept it.

Yoga for Runners

An increasing number of running events — road races, trail runs, triathlons — are starting to feature a free yoga session following the event for any participants wishing to stretch out after their run. As a yoga enthusiast, I was thrilled to see these offerings. As a runner, I was left sorely disappointed... literally. Running takes its toll on very specific muscles, and a series of Sun Salutations ending in Savasana simply doesn't target my aching body correctly. It may be that the yogis leading these sessions are keeping their instruction gentle in order to include not just the runners but also the walking participants and spectators. The vast majority of us hanging around a race venue immediately after the event, however, have pushed our quadriceps, hamstrings, glutes, and calf muscles to the limit of their endurance (and beyond!), and the gentle yoga being offered afterward is about as effective in stretching out our legs, hips, and buttocks as a pillow and blanket.

To assist my fellow runners and to commemorate today's 2014 Boston Marathon, I am sharing part of my post-run yoga routine. Call them "13 Yoga Poses for Runners." I used to go by the rule of thumb of "two minutes of stretching for every mile run," but now I go by "stretch until you're done." Which might be an hour, since I enjoy it so.

1. Mountain Pose (Tadasana): Runners often lean forward, their backs curved, their shoulders hunched. Standing in Tadasana, feet parallel, arms overhead directly over the shoulders, palms facing in, helps realign posture by stacking the head, shoulders, hips, and feet. Firmly press your feet into the ground, activate the glutes and hams, and stretch your arms upward, lengthening your spine. Be careful not to raise your shoulders; instead, draw them back down away from your ears. Eyes can look upward or straight ahead. Hold this position for five to eight cycles of breath.

2. Standing Forward Bend (Uttanasana): From Mountain Pose, swoop your arms down, hinge your body forward from your hips, and fold yourself so that your chest meets your legs. Depending on your level of flexibility and how much of a calf and hamstring stretch you'd like, your hands may reach your shins, the tops of your ankles, or the floor. If you are very flexible, wrap your arms around your calves and draw your torso closer to your legs. If not, let gravity assist you by allowing your head and torso to hang downward heavily. Folding your arms in so that your hands cup the opposite elbows will help deepen the stretch without adding stress to your hamstrings. If your legs have tightened up after your run, do your best to stretch your fingertips towards the ground. Your eyes should be on your shins. Hold this position for five to eight cycles of breath.

3. Wide Angle Standing Forward Bend (Prasarita Padottanasana): From Standing Forward Bend, return to Mountain Pose (Tadasana) by swooping your arms upward at your sides and gently lifting your torso back up. Next, step your legs approximately three to four feet apart, feet pointing forward. The farther apart your legs are from each other, the more intense the stretch. Inhale and lift your arms out to your sides in a letter T, palms facing down. Lengthen your spine upward, keeping your shoulders down. Exhale, then hinge your body forward from your hips as you did in Uttanasana, placing your hands on the ground in line with your feet if you can. If not, cup your elbows and let gravity draw your head and torso downward into the stretch. If you are flexible, heel-toe walk your feet a little further apart and place the back of your head on the ground, either cupped by your interlaced fingers or with your hands on either side. Again, the depth of this calf and hamstring stretch will depend on what position you choose for your arms and head. Your eyes should look back, through the inverted V of your legs. Hold this position for five to eight cycles of breath.

4. Easy Dancer Pose (Sukha Natarajasana): From Wide Angle Standing Forward Bend (Prasarita Padottanasana), heel-toe walk your feet closer together. If your head is on the ground, gently push up on your hands to straighten your arms and lift your head up. Exhale and place your hands on your hips, flattening your back as if it were a table, and look forward. Inhale and, shifting your hips slightly forward, raise your head and torso back to an upright position. Exhale and jump or walk your feet back to Mountain Pose (Tadasana), lengthening your spine up to the sky. Ground your feet firmly so that the entire ball and heel are pressing into the floor, then shift your weight over to the left leg. Bend your right leg so that the knee points to the ground, the thigh is parallel with your left leg, and your lower leg raises upward towards your buttocks. Reach your right hand down to clasp your right ankle. Gently draw your right heel towards your buttocks; the closer your draw your foot in, the deeper the quadriceps stretch. Keep your torso upright and centered over your hips, which are squared forward. Your spine lengthens upward and your shoulders draw back downward. Activate your left leg more by pressing more firmly into the ground. To add balance to this position, slowly lift your left arm skyward. If your flexibility allows, and for a deeper quad stretch, rotate your right leg backward so that the thigh is parallel to the ground. Push your right foot into your hand to straighten the right leg, if possible. Be sure to maintain your hips in a forward aspect; do not open your hips to the right. Your eyes are forward or look upward at your raised hand. Hold this position for five to eight cycles of breath. Release back to Mountain Pose (Tadasana), then repeat on the other side.

5. Triangle Pose (Utthita Trikonasana): From Mountain Pose, step your feet so that they are
approximately three feet apart and pointing forward. Turn your right foot 90 degrees so that it points to the right. Turn your left foot 45 degrees so that it slightly angles to the right. Raise your arms out to the sides, palms down, so that they form a T. Lengthen your spine skyward. Inhale, then shift your hips slightly sideways to the left while leaning your right arm and torso slightly to the right. Exhale and, from the hips, bend laterally to your right as if you are trying to touch your right outer thigh with the right side of your ribs. Depending on your level of flexibility and how deep a glute and hamstring stretch you want, reach the right arm down so that your hand rests either on your shin, ankle, or the ground beside your right foot. Ground your right hand against its surface to activate the arm. Root your left foot firmly into the ground to activate your left leg's muscles. Keep your hips squared forward; do not rotate your hips to the right as this will compromise the pose. You want to be tilted sideway, as this will also help release and stretch your left obliques. To open up your chest and add a shoulder stretch, raise your left arm skyward until it is vertically stacked above the right arm, forming a single line. Reach with the left arm as you ground the right arm. Your gaze is either on your grounded right hand, directly in front of you, or up at your left hand. Hold this position for five to eight cycles of breath. To release, lower your left arm, stretching it to the left, firmly ground your left leg, then raise your torso back upright. Repeat on the other side.

6. Lightning (or Thunderbolt) Pose (Bhujrasana): From Mountain Pose (Tadasana), gently lower yourself to kneeling, then sit back on your heels, feet flat against the ground, legs parallel. Place your hands on your thighs and press down, lengthening your spine. Pull your shoulder blades down and back, and lift your chin. Your gaze is forward. Lightning Pose is a wonderful resting pose that allows you to gently stretch your quadriceps. Rest here for five to eight cycles of breath. Lightning Pose is often mistakenly called Hero Pose (Virasana), which is a similar posture except that the lower legs rotate outwardly so that the feet are positioned on either side of their corresponding hips and the pelvic girdle lowers so the buttocks rest on the ground in the space between the feet. Hero Pose is a more intense quadriceps stretch; it is not recommended for those who have knee issues.

7. Cobbler's Pose (Baddha Konasana): From Lightning Pose (Bhujrasana), cross your ankles and carefully roll your buttocks backwards over your feet to come to Simple Cross-Legged Pose (Sukhasana). Place the soles of your feet together, positioning your heels as close to your groin as possible. Slowly lower your knees towards the ground. Do not force your knees down as this can cause muscle and ligament damage. Outwardly rotate your hips to assist with the grounding of your knees. This position will stretch your adductor muscles as well as work on your hip joints. Hold onto your ankles and raise your rib cage upwards, lengthening your spine. Lift your chin and gaze forward. Hold this position for five to eight cycles of breath.

8. Cobbler's Pose Forward Bend (Adho Mukha Baddha Konasana): From Cobbler's Pose (Baddha Konasana), inhale, and lengthen your spine skyward. Exhale and, hinging from your hips, fold forward towards your feet. Try to keep from rounding your back. Depending on your flexibility or how deeply you wish to stretch your adductors and your glutes, you may hover your face over your feet, touch your forehead lightly to your feet, or fold deeply enough that your forehead rests on the ground in front of your feet. Your arms can remain on your ankles, if this is comfortable. If not, slide your arms forward along the ground to help deepen the stretch. Keep your hips rotated outwardly and your knees and thighs grounded. If this pose is uncomfortable or causes too much strain, slide your feet forward approximately 12 inches into Star Pose (Tarasana) and rest your head in the arches of your feet. Your gaze is downward or keep your eyes closed. Hold for five to eight cycles of breath, then return to Cobbler's Pose.

9. Wide Angle Forward Bend (Upavistha Konasana): From Cobbler's Pose (Baddha Konasana), straighten your legs into Staff Pose (Dandasana), hands grounded by your hips, fingers facing forward. Spread your legs into a wide V; do not force the width of your V! Inhale, then press your hands into the ground, lifting your torso and your spine towards the sky. Exhale, then hinge forward from your hips, lowering your torso towards the ground. Try to maintain a straight versus rounded spine. Do not force your torso down, as this can injure your back and hips. Depending on your flexibility and how deeply you wish to stretch your hamstrings and calves, you may place your hands on the ground in front of you, directly under your hips, to support your torso; fold your arms so that the forearms are stacked and place them on the ground, resting your forehead on them like a pillow; or hold onto the outside edges of your feet or onto your big toes and lower your torso all the way down to the ground. Flex your feet and keep them active, pressing the heels forward. Activate your legs and press downward into the ground with them. Your eyes gaze downward or remain closed. Hold this position for five to eight cycles of breath, then slowly raise your torso up to seated and return to Staff Pose (Dandasana).


10. One-Legged Seated Forward Bend (Janusirsasana): From Staff Pose (Dandasana), draw your right knee towards your chest, keeping the right foot flat on the ground. Outwardly rotate the right knee so that it and the right thigh rest on the ground. Firm your right foot against your inner left thigh as close to the groin as possible. Ground your extended left leg, making sure both the knee and the foot point skyward. Inhale and lengthen your spine skyward. Exhale and, hinging from the hip, lower your torso towards your left leg, maintaining a straight back. Resist the urge to round your back. Depending on your flexibility and how deeply you wish to stretch your calves, hamstrings, and glutes, you may place your hands to either side of your left shin, grasp the outer edges of your left foot, or reach past your foot, clasping your hands around it. Your gaze is downward. Press into the ground with your right hip, thigh, and knee. Maintain this position for five to eight cycles of breath, then return to seated position and repeat on the other side, then return to Dandasana.


11. Heron Pose (Krounchasana): From Staff Pose (Dandasana), bend your knees into your chest, keeping the feet flat and as close to your groin as possible. Grasp your right foot so that your thumbs encircle the top of your foot and the fingers grasp the underside. Raise your right knee towards your right shoulder, then unfold your lower right leg, lifting it upward as you straighten your arms. Hold your leg in this position with your right arm. With your left hand, grasp your left ankle and gently rotate it and your lower left leg outwardly, so that your left foot is grounded alongside your left hip, foot flat, in a half Hero Pose (Virasana Pose). Return your left hand to grasping your extended right foot. Drop your shoulders down, press your buttocks, lower left leg, and left foot firmly into the ground, and look up at your foot. For a deeper calf stretch, draw your right leg as close to your torso and head as possible. Hold for five to eight breaths, then release your legs back to Staff Pose (Dandasana). Breathe for a few cycles, then repeat on the other side. Note: Heron Pose should not be attempted by those with weak or injured knees.

12. Seated Forward Bend (Paschimottadasana): From Staff Pose (Dandasana), inhale and lengthen your spine and arms skyward as you ground your glutes firmly.  Exhale and, hinging from your hips, lower your torso down towards your legs. Depending on your flexibility and how deeply you wish to stretch your calves, hamstrings, and glutes, you may place your hands to either side of your shins, grasp the outer edges of your feet, or reach past your feet, clasping your hands around them. Try to maintain a straight spine. Your gaze is downward. Activate the stretch further by pushing forward with your heels and pressing down with your legs. Hold for five to eight cycles of breath.

13. Cow Pose (Bitilasana): From Staff Pose (Dandasana), fold your legs back to Simple Cross-Legged Pose (Sukhasana), then lean your torso slightly forward and rotate your lower legs into Lightning Pose (Bhujrasana). Place your hands on the ground in front of you and lean forward to come up to your knees. Adjust your limbs so that your hands are directly beneath your shoulders and your knees are hip distance apart, your neck and head aligned with your spine, your gaze downward. This is Table Pose (Svanasana, not to be confused with Adho Mukha Svanasana, Downward Facing Dog Pose). Inhale and tilt your pelvic floor down and back, lifting your glutes upwards while dropping your belly down. Continue this gentle backbend by lifting your head upward and slightly tipping it backward. Draw your shoulder blades down and look up. Hold this position for five to eight cycles of breath, then return to Table Pose.

Follow up with your own favorite stretches and yoga poses to allow your body to fully recover and relax after your run ... and be sure to hydrate! Namaste.

Yoga Every Day

When people learn that I practice yoga, they don't ask where or with whom or what style. For reasons I can't begin to fathom, the question has always been, "How often do you practice?"

My response is "Every day."

I get a few skeptical looks, some quirked eyebrows, and a comment akin to "Suuuuuuure you do" every now and then. But it's the truth: yoga is a part of my everyday life.

This doesn't mean that I structure my schedule so I can attend a 60- or 90-minute class every day. It doesn't even mean that, at some point during my waking hours, I spend an hour or so each day on my studio's mats doing my own personal practice or in front of our television following along with one of my favorite yoga DVDs (although my husband undoubtedly begs to differ). Then how is yoga part of my daily existence?

Simple: yoga is much, much more than a series of poses (asana).

Poses are what immediately come to mind when the general populace thinks of yoga. Even a vast multitude of yoga practitioners believe that yoga is an hour of flexing and stretching the body in a variety of contortionistic poses. After 40 years of practicing yoga, my body naturally settles on an asana while doing the mundane: Vrksasana (tree pose) in the kitchen while preparing a meal, Sukhasana (simple cross-legged pose) while at the dinner table, Virasana (hero pose) while at my desk (such as right now, as I type this). So, yes, in a sense, I incorporate the physical aspects of yoga into my everyday life this way, sometimes for hours as I work at my computer, shifting from Virasana to Bhujrasana (lightning pose) to Sukhasana and back.

Writing this blog entry in Virasana.

But I also practice yoga when someone wrongs me and I let it go. The teenager that swooped into the parking spot for which I'd been signaling? The woman talking nonstop on her cell phone who cut ahead of me at the check-out line? While I might be sorely tempted to react negatively to their negativity, I do my best to practice the Yama (behavioral restraint) of Ahimsa, non violence. Often, I find myself practicing the Niyama (behavioral observance) of Svadhyaya (self study) soon afterwards ("Why did their actions anger me so much? Was that parking spot that important?").

There are five Yamas and five Niyamas that guide a yogi towards both living more ethically and molding a better social community. These may very well be the most difficult aspect of yoga to incorporate into one's life, especially in this day of modern conveniences, overflowing supermarket choices, and technological breakthroughs (which make practicing Aparigraha, the Yama of non attachment, Brahmacharya, the Yama of moderation, and Tapas, the Niyama of austerity, quite a challenge). Others, such as Satya, the Yama of truthfulness, and Santosha, the Niyama of contentment, come as naturally as breathing. Take a look around you. Yes, you might have dusty furniture, dishes that need washing, baskets of laundry to fold, and a toy or two underfoot, but this also means you have a roof over your head, food on your table, clothing on your back, and family around you. That is the truth of your life, and you are fortunate to have so much when others do not. Be content.

Pratyahara is another branch of yoga that I try to incorporate into my daily life. In Pratyahara, one allows the mind to settle instead of being jangled to alertness by sensory distractions. The neighbor's dog that barks all night long? Ignore it. The music blaring from a colleague's cubicle while you're trying to complete an assignment? Shut it out. The TV show your spouse is watching in bed while you're trying to fall asleep? Be blind to it. Seventeen people are waiting for your next move in Words with Friends? Let them wait. Don't allow these disturbances to derail you from reaching your goal, whether it's getting a project done before lunch or getting a good night's sleep.

But Pratyahara is more than closing your senses. It's also closing your mind to other people's perceptions, beliefs, and ideas, especially the negative. Your coach tells you you're never going to make it out of junior varsity? Do your best to prove him or her wrong. Your mother criticizes you yet again for the way you're raising your children? Believe in yourself and let her disapproval bounce off you. You overhear your supervisor comment unfavorably about your work performance, attributing it to your gender, your religious beliefs, your age, your ethnicity or race, or some other personal characteristic? Let the comment go in one ear and out the other (and contact your workplace's EEOC officer... and practice Ahimsa, the Yama of non violence). It has taken years for me to develop my Pratyahara practice, training myself to smile, nod, and not take to heart comments from elder family members about my employment choices (yes, I have a Master's degree and yes, I do write numerous freelance articles each year, but I am happy not being confined to an editorial office and I am content (there is that Santosha again!) working as a fitness instructor and managing a farm full of chickens).

Pratyahara goes hand in hand with Dharana, the practice of concentration. One would think that this comes easily once the distractions have disappeared, and often, it does. Sometimes, though, one has to really work on focus. One of my current projects is color coding asana according to level of difficulty (green for beginners, yellow for intermediate, red for advanced) and type (pink for prone, red for supine, neon yellow for inversions, orange for standing, blue for twists, etc.). With true focus, I would have had this done in a day or two. But no, I find myself hitting the mat to try every twist, inversion, and arm balance as soon as I have written up its card. I've obviously got some work to do with Dharana.

Dhyana refreshes you mentally.

On the other hand, I've rarely had any difficulty fitting Dhyana, the practice of meditation, into my life. I fondly remember my first meditation book, a little blue checkout-line special entitled "Transcendental Meditation" that I bought with my lunch money when I was 11. I set up a meditation space in my closet, complete with an altar (an empty shoebox draped with a white handkerchief), fruit, flowers, and stick incense I'd bought at Spencer's Gifts at the local strip mall. I'd sit in Sukhasana in that little space twice daily for a half hour, chanting Om over and over. I'm sure my mother would have thought I was nuts had she ever caught me. These days, I don't have an assigned meditation space and I certainly don't have offerings of flora or incense on an altar. I can meditate anywhere: on a mat, on the floor, in a chair, on my bed. I focus on one specific point of attention and let my mind start unraveling the puzzle I've presented: what could I have possibly done to make my lower back ache? What is the best way to phrase this thought for the article I'm writing? What vegetables should we plant in our garden this year? Before I know it, a half hour has passed — sometimes more — and I return to my regularly scheduled life much refreshed mentally.

Do I feel enlightened by any of these yogic practices? No, not really. There is quite a lot about myself that I have yet to uncover and discover and quite a way to go before I would even consider that I have reached the point of self realization or enlightenment (Samadhi). It's something I do strive for. There are days, however, when it seems fate just wants to throw chaos my way and when life seems to spin completely out of control. On days like these, just remembering to breathe, and breathe well, is about as much as I can manage. Pranayama (yogic breathing exercises) helps center me as I focus on breathing deeply, expanding my rib cage, drawing that breath into my upper back, then releasing it all back out. I often employ Pranayama when I run, both for exercise and competitively, as a means of stabilizing my breathing and expanding my energy throughout my body. Prana means life force and, when I am overwhelmed with assignments, chores, sick kids, and a never-ending to-do list, breathing deeply and focusing my life force is how I practice yoga that day.

If you take a minute to reflect, a moment for Dhyana, you'll find that yoga is a part of your everyday life as well.

And It Started Like This...

I don't remember her name, just that she had straight blonde hair that hung halfway down her back and that she wore little skirts instead of shorts or the track pants that were so very popular in the early 1970s. I suppose, in retrospect, that they were tennis skirts. At the time, though, I thought it was really weird for a gym teacher to wear little skirts. If she did jumping jacks, her underwear would show!

It was January of my third-grade year at Clark Mills Elementary School and, because we were in New Jersey, that meant indoor gym; the blacktop and playgrounds were, at that time of the year, thigh deep in snow. I distinctly remember nets being strung across the gymnasium for volleyball, a game I enjoyed immensely except for the fact that nobody wanted me on their team since my power plays were quite non-directional and often wound up in another part of the gym. I was bored in the back row of our side of the court, waiting for my turn to "rotate" closer to the front of the net. The tall girls, Linda and Patty, were there now, repeatedly smacking the ball back into our opponents' territory while the rest of us stood by in case the ball passed them by. Except for me, that is. I sat by, just outside of the boundary line, crossing and uncrossing my legs and waiting for the command to rotate.

"What are you doing?" an adult voice asked, startling the bejeezus out of me. It was Blonde Gym Teacher. Her silver gym-teacher whistle was in her hand, ready to be blown to signal the change in player positions. She had undoubtedly raised it to her lips when she noticed delinquent little me on the ground instead of on the court.

I quickly jumped up. "Sorry," I mumbled as I shuffled to my empty spot, ready to shift two feet to my left at the sound of her whistle.

"No, that's not what I meant," she told me. "What were you doing just now?"

I blinked. "Sitting," I finally replied.

Her look was unfathomable. "Do it again," she instructed me, gesturing to the linoleum floor.

I instinctly obeyed and sat down, looking up at her questioningly.

She shook her blonde mane. "No, no, not like that," she told me. "Do that thing with your legs again."

I immediately pretzeled my legs into a cross-legged position, my feet resting on top of my thighs, without the use of my hands.

Blonde Gym Teacher nodded, a slight smile on her face. She quickly blew her whistle. "Rotate!" she called out, and I unwound my legs and headed to my new position. "No, not you, Ana. Come over here." She led me to the corner of the gym, away from the rest of the kids. Slipping her whistle's lanyard over her head, she turned to face me and asked, "Can you do this?" Very slowly and carefully, she lifted her right leg, bent at the knee, and set the sole of her foot against the inner thigh of her left leg, her arms lifted straight overhead.

It looked like she had made a number 4 out of her legs. Perhaps she was inviting me to play some strange new leg game with her. After all, she'd seen me cross and uncross my legs just moments beforehand. I smiled and, with the supreme confidence only the young possess, swiftly lifted my left leg and plunked its foot against my right thigh, shooting my arms up straight in the air to mirror Blonde Gym Teacher's pose.

Her eyes widened slightly — I understand now that it was because of the speed in which I assumed this posture — and she lowered her arms and leg. "That's really good, Ana," she told me. "I want you to practice doing this position at home for the next couple of days, and then on Thursday you can show me how good you've gotten with it." Gym homework? Ack! At least it wasn't practicing digging a volleyball.

When it was time for PE on Thursday, we trooped into the gym, only to be directed away from the volleyball nets and towards the open floor area. Blonde Gym Teacher lined us up in rows, with me in the front row near her. She had everyone sit down, which I did, doing my handsless leg pretzel or, as I now know, Padmasana, or Lotus Pose.

Blonde Gym Teacher blew her whistle for attention. "Today we're doing something different. There's a new kind of exercise that has started to become popular not just in New Jersey, but in New York and as far away as California. Raise your hand if you've ever heard of Yoga."

That day, my classmates and I learned our first Sun Salutation... and I officially started on the yogic path I follow to this very day.