A Conclusion of Sorts, and Oprah

27 Aug 2013 5 Comments

by Hannah in Vinyasa Yoga Tags: , , , , , ,

My yoga friends, the summer has officially come to an end. Well, maybe not officially- I haven’t checked with the farmers’ almanac or the elite group of calendar creators who have the power to declare things like summer has officially ended or let’s have the groundhog decide! But my full-time yoga adventure has (sadly) come to a close.

I write to you from my spectacular penthouse of a college dorm room, where we have air conditioning, enormous windows, and enough space for a futon plus three beds. (My bed is bunked so high I might actually be in space, but the ever-present possibility of falling to my death just makes things that much more exciting.) And being back at school is no excuse to stop practicing yoga!

There’s a Vinyasa studio down the street that I dragged Julie to tonight, and we both bought 3-month unlimited memberships. It isn’t sweaty, we use props, and the instructors don’t tell us our foreheads should be touching our toes, but we’re finding a way to love it all the same.

All in all, this summer has been a most magical adventure: challenging, eye-opening, sweaty. If you get the chance, check out the tab above that says A Grand Yoga Adventure; it’s my final piece for the project and I would just love if you took a gander.

This is where I’m tempted to get cheesy and say I learned a lot about myself, the world is good at its core, you can do anything if you put your mind to it, and other cliche things that are best left on posters in elementary school classrooms. But I’ll just leave you readers with a heartfelt thank you. (I do it all for the fans. Taylor Swift and I are similar that way.)

To avoid boring you with an average corny conclusion, I would like you to imagine that I’m a celebrity on a well-viewed talk show; maybe Ellen, or one of those happy Oprah episodes. (I don’t care that she’s not on the air anymore, O is still the queen of daytime TV.) So I’m discussing my project, and Oprah asks me enthusiastic questions about the sweat, the obstacles, the marvelous blog posts. The studio audience (populated mostly by women ages 35-65) is groaning miserably at the mention of the whole thing being over. Oprah shows a delightful little photo montage of me being sweaty in a variety of places, and viewers across the country are smiling and chuckling and saying to each other I’d really like to meet that yoga blogger girl, she’s just so cool/witty/stunning. And then Oprah asks the question everyone’s been waiting for.

O: So Hannah, tell me. What’s next? Where do you go after this wild yoga blogging success?

(The studio audience falls silent, collectively fidgeting with anticipation.)

H: Well, the project really helped me grow as a person, and I’m just so thankful to have been given such a wonderful opportunity. (Dramatic pause.) But, I’m not sure I’m ready to give up this whole blogging thing just yet.

(The studio audience releases one giant strangled cheer, giant because they know what’s coming next, strangled because Oprah has held up her hands for them to quiet down so she can ask me her next question.)

O: Hannah, does… does this mean you’re going to keep blogging?

H: Yes, I am going to keep blogging.

(The studio audience erupts into wild applause so the viewers at home can barely hear what I said past yes, but no one cares, people across the country are laughing, jumping from their couches, exchanging hugs and friendly slaps on the back. It’s like the Americans just won gold in Miracle.)

So yes, my friends, the news is true- I plan to keep blogging. Possibly about college, possibly about other things. I’ve seriously considered devoting an entire website to elephant puns. But no matter the topic, I’ve decided to continue this adventure- sharing my thoughts and my writing with you, you lucky sons of bitches.

(Thunderous applause from the studio audience, despite the few mothers who exchange offended  looks like did she really just say sons of bitches?)

Same time, same place, next week I’ll be posting a link to my new blog. Come check it out if you want, or don’t. (But yes please do, and if you like it send it to your friend/dad/grandmother/cat. That’d be really awesome.)

Namaste,
Hannah

Downward Facing Bog?

06 Aug 2013 Leave a comment

by Hannah in Family, Vinyasa Yoga Tags: , , , , , ,

I’m currently on vacation with my family; between naps on the beach and tonight’s riveting finale of The Bachelorette, I’ve been hard pressed to find time to concoct a masterfully witty blog post. But before I completely fall into a chocolate/reality TV-induced coma, I’ll leave you friends with a few tidbits.

  • My cousin Kristina and I decided to go on a run together yesterday. As we set out on our jog, she turned to me and said- and this is a direct quote- “yeah, I usually run pretty slow.” I rejoiced. She then proceeded to set a pace that made me painfully aware of my own mortality, and we kept this pace for about 3 miles. (Damn you, Kristina.)
  •  To celebrate my survival of this run, I decided to do a few sun salutations in our backyard after we finished stretching. Just as I was coming out of my first downward dog, there came a surprising yell from our bedroom window on the second floor. “Look straight into the eyes of God!” Kristina shouted like she was announcing the name of a new Pope. We laughed so hard I almost peed.
  •  We just watched the sun set over the ocean.IMG_0064
  • If you haven’t seen this commercial yet, it’s pure gold. In case you can’t hear the dialogue over the cameraman’s hysterical laughter, Younger Ocean Spray Guy is doing yoga in the cranberry bog as part of his morning routine. Old And Wise Ocean Spray Guy asks Younger Guy what he calls his last pose, to which he responds, “That’s, uh, downward facing bog?” (Genius.)

 

Have a wonderful week, yogis and yoginis.

Namaste,
Hannah

“SUP?” (Road Trip Part IV)

20 Jul 2013 4 Comments

by Hannah in Meditation, Road Trip, Stand-Up Paddleboard Yoga, Vinyasa Yoga Tags: , , , , ,

“Life is limitless, and knowing this is what the spirit is.” -Macklemore

My mom, Mary and I arrived at the beach for paddle board yoga just before 7AM. I was ecstatic, pee-your-pants, Deathly-Hallows-midnight-premiere levels of excited. (Most pivotal moments of my life thus far, in descending order: birth of my sister, receiving my pre-ordered copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, moving into college. So this was pretty damn exciting.) The sun had just begun to rise over the expanse of green trees at the other side of the pond; a gentle breeze made tiny ripples in the stunningly blue water; a neat row of colorful boards awaited us at the pond’s edge, complete with anchors, paddles, and optional life vests. I was pretty sure we’d just found heaven.

“SUP,” or Stand-Up Paddleboard Yoga, had been a source of intrigue for my mom and me ever since we subscribed to the Athleta catalogue. Not to mention the second I found out about the catchy acronym I wanted to find a paddle board yoga instructor and ask, “hey, what’s SUP?” (Anyone? Anyone?) The aura of mystery and grace surrounding SUP yoga was both intimidating and attractive. My mom, Mary and I felt absolutely confident in two things: 1) the practice would be magical, and 2) we were going to suck at it.

An impressively athletic-looking woman pulled up to the beach a few minutes after we did. We all openly stared at her as she got out of her car and started walking over to the pond.

“Yup, she’s toned,” Mary observed. “We’re done for, ladies.” My mom and I nodded in grim agreement. It was clear we were out of our league.

But the sun was shining, the pond beckoned, and our awesome instructor Amy assured us that most of her clientele signed up for class with no prior paddle boarding experience. So when she said the word, we grabbed our boards, sat squarely on our knees, and began to paddle out on the water.

The board was far more stable than I had imagined it would be; after just a few minutes of practice on my feet I could comfortably rock from side to side, shifting weight from one foot to the other. I paddled like Amy had instructed us to, driving the blade straight down into the water and smoothly pushing it back to propel myself forward. The landscape sprawled out in front of me like a painting, calm and unassuming in the quiet morning air. I listened to the lapping of the water against my board. I hummed a little tune. I imagined hitting pause on the world outside the pond, stretching out that gorgeous, peaceful moment so I could live in it for a few eternities. A few minutes later we dropped our anchors to begin practice.

To our complete surprise, we really didn’t suck that badly. The yoga practice itself was relatively mellow, with your basic sun salutations and victorious breath through the nose. My personal favorite was downward facing dog; I let my head hang and looked back between my legs to find the same stunning beauty of the picturesque pond, but upside down. The water became the sky. The trees along the opposite bank were growing downward. My first thought was that the view was breathtaking; my second thought was that Mary’s board was floating directly behind my mom’s, and with the kind of hip-raising that the pose called for, her head was probably painfully close to my mom’s butt. I chuckled to myself and really hoped that was the case.

There were a few points at which I could’ve easily tumbled off the board and into the cool blue water, but somehow, I didn’t.  The instructor laughed at my mom as she kept wheeling her head around to look at Mary.

“I can’t see you back there!” my mom exclaimed.

“That’s the point!” Mary answered contentedly. All three of us somehow managed to stay comfortably upright all the way through practice and the leisurely journey back to shore. And, as if that wasn’t enough, the wonderfully toned woman turned out to be one of the friendliest people we’d met all week. (On the car ride home, my mom still noted with a smile, “you know, she was strong, but she really wasn’t that flexible. Definitely not as flexible as us.”)

We decided SUP yoga was by far our favorite practice of the trip; our favorite practice of our entire lives, really. Mary admitted that yes, she had been uncomfortably close to my mom’s backside, and despite whatever trauma that might’ve caused, she had enjoyed the practice so much that she planned to sign up again for next week. Somehow SUP yoga had managed to live up to our gargantuan expectations. Short of finally receiving my letter from Hogwarts, I can’t think of many experiences more magical than a morning of yoga on the water.

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Athleta, call me

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posin’ with Amy and paddle boards

4 days, 4 yoga practices, 3 beaches, new opportunities and old friends. Thank you so much to all our hosts who let us mooch so shamelessly, we couldn’t have done any of this without you. Thank you devoted readers, all twelve of you, for following along with our yoga adventure. And Mom, thanks for not killing me in my sleep even though I made fun of you on the Internet for four days in a row; goodness knows you had plenty of opportunities. You’re my favorite lunatic.

See you back here next Monday, my friends.

Namaste,
Hannah

Pick Your Wedgies With Pride (Road Trip Part I)

17 Jul 2013 2 Comments

by Hannah in Anusara Yoga, Bikram Yoga, Kripalu Yoga, Road Trip, Vinyasa Yoga Tags: , , , , , , ,

My apologies for the late post, we’re just getting in from our first day of yoga adventuring. It started with several hours in the car as we dropped my marvelous sister off at a 4-day scholar athlete leadership camp, and we hit some heinous traffic on a Massachusetts highway (totally unheard of, right?). My mom swore far more than necessary and received several middle fingers through closed car windows as we swerved into Panera for lunch, but other than that, our journey to Rhode Island went relatively smoothly.

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Tonight we practiced at Bristol Yoga Studio, an adorable hole-in-the-wall kind of place on a cozy street corner in the town of Bristol, RI. The studio had wooden floors, offered a modest view of neighboring street shops outside its front windows, and smelled faintly of incense; the atmosphere was more serene than any studio I’ve visited thus far. We quickly introduced ourselves to Tracy, the studio owner, and explained that this was our first stop on a most heroic yoga quest. Obviously, she was impressed.

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(My mom should’ve taken a photography class in high school, but Tracy rocks!)

The class we were attending was simply labeled “All Levels Yoga,” so my mom and I had no idea what kind of practice we were walking into. I figured there would quite a few dogs involved (at least upward and downward facing), and probably a couple warriors (namely, one and two). When I asked, Tracy told me that her yoga teachings had been heavily influenced by the Kripalu and Anusara practices. I nodded like I knew what that meant and followed my mom into the studio to set up our mats.

First and foremost, this yoga was not sweaty. The studio was a mere 78 degrees (I snuck a peek at the thermostat on our way in) which seemed downright chilly in comparison to the oppressively hot air outside. I barely broke a sweat once throughout the practice, which was equal parts refreshing and off-putting. It was similar to Bikram in the sense that we held difficult positions for long amounts of time, but also similar to Vinyasa in the sense that we flowed through series of movements. Very, very slowly.

“This practice isn’t about what you think, it’s about what you feel. Stop thinking, and just feel where your body is, what it needs, right now.” Tracy’s voice was gentle and encouraging. Maybe it was her insightful dialogue, or maybe it was the ultra-soothing shade of blue they had chosen to paint the walls, but the whole thing had a meditative quality that I’d never before experienced in a yoga practice. The sun was setting outside and casting fire-orange shadows across the studio floor. My breath sounded like the ocean waves that I knew were crashing just a few blocks from where we stood. Feel, don’t think; feel, don’t think. My muscles felt strong as we settled into Warrior Two. I am inhaling, I am exhaling. I am inhaling, I am ex-

I snuck a glance to the left at my mom just in time to see her covertly pick a wedgie. She might kill me for posting this, which would kind of put a damper on our whole little trip here, but seeing that wedgie-adjustment was an integral part of my practice. An integral part of my growth as a human being, really. A perfect juxtaposition of the poetic and the priceless. I mean, everybody’s gotta adjust their underwear every now and again, especially in the middle of a challenging yoga position that requires extended lunging. But it felt like the divine yoga gods were sending me a message: even in your most spectacular, beautiful, lyrical moments, you must never forget that somewhere, someone is picking their wedgie.

Life is mysterious, life is silly. All you can do is try to take it all in.

And so we finished practice, feeling refreshed and balanced and inspired and hungry. Our friends who are so graciously providing us with shelter on this fine night, Sarah, Brian, and their daughter Ellie, met us for dinner at a spectacular seaside grill.

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Ellie and I hammin’ it up on the restaurant pier

We finished the night with a trip to the ice cream stand, and all seems right in the world. For now, anyways. I told myself I’m going back to Bristol Yoga (a 20 minute drive away) for 6:30AM tomorrow, and things may not feel so sparkly and wonderful when my alarm goes off at 5:45. But I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. Approximately six hours from now.

So mom, when you read this, I’m sorry for the wedgie comment, but you really led me to a little epiphany there. You’re the best, I love you a lot, and I promise I’ll come to bed in like ten minutes.

To all my other readers, I’ll talk to you tomorrow night. Pick your wedgies with pride, my friends.

Namaste,
Hannah

The Moderately Warm Room

16 Jul 2013 6 Comments

by Hannah in Bikram Yoga, Vinyasa Yoga Tags: , , , , ,

Vinyasa yoga was supposed to be easy. The room is only heated to 85 degrees and the class is a mere 75 minutes, as compared to the 105 degree, 90 minute Bikram practice that I’ve become accustomed to. I wore tiny little Bikram clothes even though I was fully aware that in the Vinyasa world it’s more customary to don a capri legging or a yoga pant. (As a post 30-day challenge yoga aficionado, I’ve decided that I should give those around me ample opportunity to admire my spectacular yoga physique.) I brought a towel, but only as a formality really. I figured the Vinyasa practice would be a leisurely walk in the park, a light jog in comparison to the miles of sprints I’d been doing for the past month. And so I entered the hot room (or as I referred to it in my head, the moderately warm room) with far more confidence than I deserved to have.

You see, before this whole project, I dabbled in the art of Vinyasa yoga. More than dabbled, actually, I bought a 3-month membership at the yoga studio just down the street from my dorm ($25 a month for students, hello steal). I went 3-4 times a week for the better part of those three months, and by the end, I felt pretty confident in my yoga skills. (If I had known the term “yogini” then, I definitely would have worked it into casual conversation with new people I met at parties.) But then of course I took a month off, ran a lot so that my hips tightened up like nobody’s business, and threw myself into a Bikram hot room for thirty days in a row.

Bikram is completely different from Vinyasa, in everything from temperature to dialogue to the direction you’re supposed to face when you lay in shavasana. Vinyasa wasn’t anything like the practice that I had just devoted myself to for the better part of a month. But that didn’t stop me from feeling like I was still going to be effing terrific at it.

As you may have already guessed, that feeling wasn’t exactly spot-on.

You know how six year old girls perform in ballet recitals? A lot of them have the moves down for the most part, but there’s always that one in the back who’s completely clueless. Every now and then she kicks her leg out to the side (in the opposite direction as everyone else is kicking) or spastically shoots an arm up in the air (while everyone else is reaching gracefully towards the audience), and she spends the whole damn dance whipping her head around so that she can look at her friends and see what she’s supposed to be doing.

That was me in the Vinyasa studio.

The movements felt so fast in comparison to the slow, calculated postures of Bikram. My quads screamed in protest with each warrior pose and my arms shook by the third half push-up (the wonderfully named chattaronga). And another thing- I was sweaty.

Not light-jog sweaty. I was Bikram, distance-sprints, lacrosse-game-in-July-with-no-subs sweaty. It dripped from my arms, ran down my legs, stung my eyes and found its way up my nose. This also surprised me, as the room was a solid 20 degrees cooler than the sauna I usually practice in. But as I looked around, I noticed something even more surprising- not everyone was sweating like I was. In fact, it didn’t seem like anybody was sweating like I was. Even my darling friend Annabelle, who has a summer membership at the Vinyasa yoga studio and attended class with me twice this week, told me she had noticed that the tops of my feet had been sweating while hers had not. It appeared I had become something of a sweat anomaly.

This fascinated me. I went home and told my family, called a few friends, and considered sending out a tweet about how very, very sweaty I had gotten at my first post-Bikram yoga class. I googled something along the lines of does Bikram make you sweat a lot in other activities? and discovered a few possible explanations for my overzealous sweat glands:

  • I have a condition called Hyperhidrosis. (Nothing like a good look at WebMD to make you remember that death is imminent.)
  • I was born with more sweat glands than the average woman.
  • I am morbidly obese.
  • I am in good shape.

I chose to ignore the first three explanations and skip straight to the fourth. I’m in good shape! Those who are physically fit usually sweat more! All that Bikram and supplementary cardio have finally begun to pay off!

Well, kind of. 75 minutes in the Vinyasa studio and it hurt to lift my arms for three days, but I’m a fighter. The soreness was gone by my third class. By the end of the week I was noticing a lot of other people in the studio who seemed to be sweating as profusely as I was. To my delight, I also found that most of these especially sweaty people looked to be in terrific shape. (I was probably seeking out observational evidence to confirm my own theory, but I really just don’t want to have Hyperhidrosis.)

So all in all, Vinyasa was sweatier than expected and is well on its way to giving me biceps like Arnold Schwarzenegger.

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I forced my mom and Annabelle into a post-class photo op. (Very few people can look this good while this sweaty.)

In other news, we have a very special week coming up! Tomorrow morning my mom and I shall be embarking on a yoga road trip. Tuesday through Friday we’ll be driving from Rhode Island to Cape Cod, mooching off of friends, hitting the beach, and of course, practicing a lot of yoga along the way. Personally, I’m most excited for 7 am on Friday morning: paddleboard yoga. We’re going to be yoga-ing on a freaking paddleboard. There’s a good chance it’s just going to turn into a sophisticated swimming lesson, but still.

So feel free to check in tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that, because I’ll be posting every night of the trip. This is going to be a yoga adventure for the books, my friends.

Namaste,
Hannah