Tag: exercise

Bellies on Vacation

I’ve fallen off the yoga wagon. Hard.

bikini belly
not my belly

Our summer schedule doesn’t allow time for the mom to make it to yoga class. I bike and swim with my son, but yoga quest is officially suspended.

I can hear my instructor. “I see some bellies that look like they’re on vacation,” she’d say when we weren’t properly engaging the core in class.

She’d be mortified to see that now my belly really is on vacation. It’s on a Mediterranean cruise, complete with an endless antipasto bar and a Big Gulp Coke. Sip on that, Mayor Bloomberg.

It’s gone to Disneyland where dreams really do come true whether you exercise or not. You’ve never seen Snow White on a StairMaster, have you? All you need is a little Tinkerbell, a pumpkin, and a pair of glass slippers.

My belly unfolds like a beached whale on the sand. It spreads out like a jellyfish washed ashore. I took it to Vermont, home of Ben & Jerry’s for crying out loud. Can you say Vermonster?

Enough! It’s not that bad. It’s not yoga-belly either. My pilates paunch has gone kaput. The core is no more.

My wellness coach friend Lisa Hautly wrote an uplifting, common-sense post: A Health Centered Approach to Living Well.

ben & jerry's chocolate chip cookie dough
Ben & Jerry look strangely familiar

“Love your body,” she writes.

“Move.”

“Listen to your belly.”

“Sleep.”

“Reduce stress.”

I’m sleeping. I’m listening. I’m moving. I’m loving my body. Incredible, expanding belly and all.

Summer is flying by. School begins in six short weeks. The normal schedule will resume. I will drag back to yoga class.

My instructor may not recognize me sporting my new abdominal baggage, but she won’t turn me away. It’s the Y after all.

The core will engage. The belly will flatten. Equilibrium will return.

In the meantime, I’m not missing a moment of summer. And neither is my belly.

Wise words satisfy like a good meal;
the right words bring satisfaction. Proverbs 18:20 NLT

Something’s Gotta Give by Ella Fitzgerald.

So how’s your summer been?

Posted on by Aimee 10

Vikings and Temple Dancers

A good week finds me at the Y two mornings for yoga and two for pilates.

I have four different instructors affectionately nicknamed to protect their identities: the Boomer, the Ballerina, the Brit, and Grace whom you may remember from Namaste.

buffalo as seen on Manchester

The Boomer is my intelligent, sandwich generation yoga instructor. In true Boomer fashion, she delivers a hefty dose of unsolicited, often humorous, expert advice every week.

Tells us how we should put our handbags in our grocery carts when shopping to preserve our shoulders. How we must strengthen our quads so we don’t end up in nursing homes, unable to take care of our own bathroom duties.

It’s a fun class. Really.

One morning, she said, “There are two kinds of people in the world: Vikings and temple dancers.”

We giggled. “Vikings are the people we hear above us in the weight room grunting and dropping dumbbells on the floor,” she said. “They like the taste of adrenaline. They want to lift, sweat, and pump iron.”

“Then there are those of us who are temple dancers,” she said. “We like to bend, stretch, and feel the gentle flood of endorphins.”

“It would be good for the Vikings to dance and the temple dancers to lift weights,” she said. “But we have our preferences. We start with our strengths.”

what a feeling as seen at Sears

My Y-appointed trainer wants me to go to the Body Blitz class. Add the Muscle Pump hour. Do something called CORE in all caps.

Says it will help me “burn” faster. Speed up my metabolism. Thinks yoga is all cardio and no resistance. I’m avoiding her for the time being.

I pine for chiseled arms like Linda Hamilton’s in Terminator, so I may add weights. Vanity, oh vanity. But my metabolism is fast enough already.

And there’s a lot of resistance in yoga and pilates. It’s nuanced. You push against your own body rather than a free weight or machine.

It’s like a dance with yourself. A temple dance of bending, stretching, and wonderful, glorious endorphins.

You did it: You changed wild lament
into whirling dance;
You ripped off my black mourning band
and decked me with wildflowers.
I’m about to burst with song;
I can’t keep quiet about You.
God, my God,
I can’t thank you enough. Psalm 30:11-12 The Message

Dancing with Myself by Nouvelle Vague. If you’re used to the Billy Idol version of this song, you’re in for a treat with Nouvelle Vague’s cover. Fantastique!

Disclaimer: In case it isn’t blatantly obvious to you, I’m not an authority in health or fitness. I write of my own experiences and impressions. Nothing here should be construed as health, fitness, or medical advice.

Posted on by Aimee 7