Caution: Dreamboat Crossing

What's Mr. Bates up to? Just sweeping you off your feet is all.

Figuratively, of course. Watch out, Baby Goose, you've got some competition for this girl's heart.

I Work Out.

Four weeks ago I started running.

I'll say it again: Four weeks ago I started running. Me. And no taco trucks have been involved. Yet.

Today marks the halfway point of 5k 101, a little running app I downloaded to get my ass to run (jog?) three point whatever miles without stopping, and I gotta tell ya, I'm. Fucking. Loving it.

It all started when K from the chocolate shop started talking about a beginning jogging program. She started doing intervals of walking and running, and then would lenghten the jogging times while shortening the walking times as the weeks progressed.

Now I'd been thinking about running for a while. That's what I do with things that take my interest: I think about it a whole lot, read about it, information-gather. Then I start preparing the accouterments, cause I gotta do it right. Then, finally, I might give it a go. This process ensued with running; figuring out which program I wanted to follow, downloading the app, acquiring some sweet kicks, a little moisture-wicking running shirt, some good earbuds. Only then did I take my first tentative steps.

The human body endlessly fascinates me. How magnificent, how adaptive and plastic. And soft and hard and scruffy and smooth. And the bones! The sweet, protruding hip and wrist and shoulder bones. (I mean, ASIS, ulnar styloid process and acromion.) Daren says that bones love to be touched--they're remarkable sensitive and don't get touched often (Really, how often do we touch our bones? Stifled laughter here.)--but he never mentions how lovely it is to touch bones.

I've seen yoga change bodies, and I've seen my own body transform through yoga; the whittling of my thighs and tummy, the development of my arms to allow me to hold a killer chaturanga, the muscles in my back form lovely, toned curves and valleys to make it my now-favorite part of my physical self.

Running has created similar changes, though not so visible. It came easier to me than it ever has before; I've rarely been out of breath--breathing hard, yes, but never panting or gasping for air. Around Week 2 I began running through the walk/rest intervals. Then in Week 3 I ran 20 minutes and it felt amazing!  I felt alive and empowered and indestructible, until my knees began to ache something craycray the next morning. I read that one of the mistakes beginning runners make is training too hard, too quickly. The respiratory adapts faster than the musculature of the body, so it's easy to push yourself too hard when you're gauging how you feel by how heavy you're breathing. As a yogi whose exercise was done barefoot on a mat for the past 3 years, my joints were not having the impact. So I took a week off, visited Fleet Feet to get some shoes that fit my stride (My name is Raquel, and I'm a moderate over-pronator.) and hit the pavement once more, stronger than ever.

Now for what it does for my mind: Running clears my head like yoga, and gives me that juicy, hard workout that my body craves. Now yoga can deliver a hard workout, no doubt. Gimmie five sun salutes and tell me otherwise, I dare you. But the simplicity--one foot in front of the other--the rhythm of my steps, my heartbeat, the music, it all creates something glorious and conducive to the moving meditation that I love so much about vinyasa flow. When you simultaniously lose yourself and connect with clarity. Ahhh, beautiful.

So that's how running is going: meow, unstoppable.

In other beautiful news, I just received a message containing these words:
"You seem like a supernova, so gorgeous and strong and amazing."
Sometimes we forget who we are until someone reminds us. I will remind someone of their true nature today.