Update & Highlights!

Hey guys! It’s been a minute, I know. But now that mercury is out of retrograde and I’m able to string together a sentence again without busting a blood vessel (hey, I’m a Gemini! Mercury retrograde affects us a lot! Google it!), I’m back, and I have SO MUCH TO SAY! So get ready for a whirlwind, whiplash-inducing tour of The Highlights from the past few weeks, everything from mundane to momentous, both cute and brutal! Enjoy.

THE HIGHLIGHTS!

Let’s start with a simple one…

I got the weirdest correction ever! It happened in a class last week. We were doing Eagle. It went like this…

Teacher: Alison, you’ve got a little forward bend… Just so you know…

Huh? My face wrinkled up and I had to stifle a giggle. “Just so I know?” How… umm… polite? I guess? And weird! Usually when teachers correct me it’s in a tone more reminiscent of “Git ‘r dun and do it now, bi-atch!” rather than “Just so you know…”. I mean, the “just so you know” tone doesn’t usually indicate a command, or even a suggestion! It’s the way you would talk about the weather!

“Oh hey, I heard it’s going to rain today, JUST SO YOU KNOW…”

Regardless, I am working on eliminating my little forward bend in Eagle. Just so YOU know.

Maddie hair! Unless you’ve been living under a rock for the last two seasons, you are probably at least vaguely familiar with the amazeballs reality television phenomenon known as “Dance Moms”. If you read this blog often, you are DEFINITELY familiar with it. If you are NOT familiar with it, I suggest you visit Hulu right now and get to watchin’! I MEAN, IT IS ONLY LIFE-CHANGING PEOPLE.

So assuming you watch the show all the time like I do, you know who Maddie is: the adorable little nine year old super talented dancer kid who wins everything all the time and is the rockstar of her studio? Yes? Well. Maddie wears her hair in a fancy little up and over french braid that she—or rather, her Dance Mom (like the name of the show, GET IT?!) weaves into her ponytail.

Like so.

Now since I am super cool and watch reality programs on Lifetime for fun, I thought it would be SUPER fun to copy Maddie’s hair—yes, I am taking hairstyling tips from a nine year old and her mom, SUE ME—and wear it to Bikram. And I have been! And I love it! It gives me something fun to look at in the mirror besides the sweat dripping off my earlobes and the asymmetry of my eyebrows. Now I have a fancy FRENCH BRAID EMBELLISHED ponytail! Oooh la la! 

It’s gone over quite well. And apparently there is NOTHING more impressive to people than a girl who can braid her own hair. Everyone seems astonished that I do it myself. (Hey, I have to! I don’t have a Dance Mom to do it for me!) I’ve been asked to make a how-to video and post it on YouTube, but there is no way in god’s green earth I’m going to do that. Sorry guys, I just hate how I look on cam-e-ra (pronounced in three syllables with a Jenna Maroney from “30 Rock” accent).

And while I’m pretty good at doing my own brain when no one’s watching, I’m certain that if a camera were pointed at me I would get nervous and freeze up and not be able to do it and slowly lose my mind and you would find my dead lifeless body weeks later with a flip video mounted firmly in one hand and a can of Aqua Net in the death grip of the other. And really guys, I’m too young to die.

I kind of agreed to compete next year but it was totally an accident! So one day a couple of weeks ago I was in class, like normal, struggling to continue breathing, like normal. The teacher was being a little tougher with me than usual, but whatever, I kind of like that so it was all good.

We get to Wind Removing Pose, and I’m at the crisis point where I have to start reciting all the lyrics to “Cooling” in my head just to keep from having a panic attack, and the teacher comes over and stands right over my face and whispers something so loudly yet so unclearly that I can only respond with “WHAT”.

She repeats herself. I hear the following: “Yusshhucupppuppnxxxxtyrrrrr.”  I respond with a VERY convincing: “Ok…” You guys, I didn’t know what she was saying! And I was just a LITTLE busy at the time trying to pull my knee into my shoulder whilst still remaining conscious!

She walks away, apparently pleased with that answer. I assume maybe she’s said “You should think about training next year.” Like, you know, going to teacher training. I kind of shrug it off. But then I realize that’s not what she said at all. She actually said, “YOU SHOULD COMPETE NEXT YEAR.” And… OhSHIIIITTTT, what was my response? The very flat, very convincing “OKAY”.

OH. NO.

Well. I didn’t bring this up again. And neither did she. Until last weekend…

So I’m on my mat, getting ready for class, adjusting my towels and admiring my Maddie hair, and the teacher comes walking over with a friend of hers. She introduces me to the friend in the following way: “This is my student Alison, she has an amazing practice AND SHE’S GOING TO COMPETE NEXT YEAR!”

I didn’t correct her, unless you count stammering “Uhhhhhhh ummmmm errrrr,” as a correction, but I’m pretty sure the horrified look on my face said it all.

Anyway guys, I’m not REALLY planning to compete, I mean I can barely hit my Standing Head To Knee in class nevermind on a stage in front of people while WEARING A LEOTARD, good god NO! But I haven’t broken the news to my teacher yet. Eh, I’ve got a year to fix this situation… I can put it off for a while. And who knows, maybe I’ll change my mind. Or maybe hell will freeze over. You never know.

My cover got blown in class! I was in class one Saturday, just doing my thing—ahhh, which would be sweating, grunting, and muscling my way through the Standing Series—when the teacher suddenly turns to me and says in a SLIGHTLY amused way, “Alison, relax your forehead!”

I try to, not really thinking about it.

The teacher goes on, “I have a better internal dialogue with you now; I’VE READ YOUR BLOG!”

Ohhhhh snap! BUSTED!

My left hamstring is a jerk! Ugggggh you guys, being injured is the biggest crapfest EVER. And a hamstring injury is one of the worst! You don’t even realize how many things you use your hamstring for (HINT: EVERYTHING) until you can’t use it anymore!

See, I have this kind of perma-injury at the very top (the “semitendinosus”, far right in the very fancy graphic below) of my left hammy.

I got it in college when I was dancing all the time and running marathons. I initially pulled it in a dance class, no big deal. But being SUPER SMART, I never stopped to rest it and let it heal. Nope! I just kept on taking dance classes, and competing, and running 100 miles a week.

I MAKE SUCH MATURE DECISIONS! I AM AWESOME AT LIFE!

Well, needless to say, after about a week of that I had made it soooo much worse that one day while I was running it kind of popped and well, that was the end of that. I couldn’t run for FOUR MONTHS. Bummer. And still to this day, over 10 years later, my left hamstring is still so sensitive that it pulls if you look at it funny. UGH.

So last week someone must have looked at it funny, because WHOA it was giving me a HELL of a time. I mean, it was bad. BAD bad. Like, I was almost in tears in class BAD. Not as much from pain, although it hurt plenty, but more because it is SO FREAKING FRUSTRATING to be MODIFYING your practice when you really want to be IMPROVING your practice! And it was really at the point where my brain was starting to panic and I was getting all OMMIGOD IT HURTS SO MUCH AND IT’S BEEN INJURED SO LONG AND IT’S NEVER GOING TO HEAL AND I’M NEVER GOING TO BE ABLE TO DO A SIT UP WITHOUT BENDING MY KNEES AND I’M GOING TO HAVE TO MODIFY FOREVER AND JESUS CHRIST I WOULD RATHER JUST BE DEAD THAN HAVE TO LIVE WITH THIS STUPID HURTING INJURED DUMB HAMSTRING ANYMORE!

And then the world’s smallest violin started playing an angsty bit of Beethoven—you know, one of those pieces he wrote after he realized he was going deaf—and I wept bitter, bitter, salty tears.

But wait! This story actually has a silver lining—nay, a Happy Ending! My hamstring has finally started to heal and is feeling so much stronger! At least in part because…

I took this AMAZING ‘Flexibility And Contortion’ class at a pole dancing studio in Chelsea! Wait—WHAT?! Pole dancing?!

Yes, pole dancing. I am obsessed. But we’ll get to that another time. For now, the least you need to know is that the studio I go to—which happens to be run by a bunch of US and world champion pole dancers (NOT kidding)—doesn’t just have pole classes, they have tons of other aerial/acrobatic class offerings too. One of which was this “Flexibility & Contortion” one that I took last weekend.

I was a little nervous, given the severity of my hamstring situation and also the use of the word “contortion” in the title, but HOLY HELL you guys, it was freaking AWESOME! It was like all the good, fun parts of a yoga class, all smooshed together. It was NOT easy. Not at all. It was definitely WORK. But the awesome thing is that the teacher really focused on HOW to work, and how to work SAFELY. My hamstring actually felt STRONGER when I left than when I went in! WOW!

And the backbending segment of class? AWESOME. I had NO idea I could backbend like that, and it felt soooo good!

And then we worked on piking into handstands… which was… somewhat less successful for me. But you know, there were girls in there that were totally doing it! Granted, they were full on acrobats, but it made it seem attainable! Like it could actually be a realistic goal! And that was exciting.

Equally exciting? I’ve been applying the ideas in Bikram all week and my hamstring feels AWESOME. If you live in or near NYC you should totally try this class, at least once! Contact me, I’ll give you the info! And prepare to be AMAZED. Also, sore. You will be SO sore. But in a GOOD way.

I’m still not locking out my Standing Bow! I know this is hardly news. But I swear to jesus, I’m at least a millimeter closer than I was a month ago! And while that achievement may be almost imperceptibly small, I think it’s still something to celebrate.

NAMASTE, Y’ALL!

Taking Corrections

Before we even begin, let me be clear: I love corrections. I do! The more specific  and individual, the better. I eat them up, and I try to apply them right away, as if to say LOOK! SEE? I AM A GOOD STUDENT! I AM LISTENING! I AM SKILLED AT THE ART OF FOLLOWING INSTRUCTIONS! I AM GOOD AT YOGA! YAY ME!

And I have no problem with aggressive teachers; they’re usually my favorites. My theory is that if your teacher isn’t pissing you off at least SOME of the time, you’re probably not practicing with the right teacher.

And I’m totally fine with aggressively given notes/corrections. PLEASE. I used to be a singer/dancer/actor. So believe me, I’ve gotten some HARSH notes.

Like, Abbey Lee Miller on Dance Moms harsh.

Like, Zach to the poor girl in the yellow trunks in the opening montage of A Chorus Line (“YOU! In the yellow trunks! DON’T DANCE!!!!”) harsh.

Like, you want to go off into the corner and cry about how awful and untalented you are and how sad your life is and how you will probably never ever EVER be ANY good for ANYTHING and you should probably just leave this advanced contemporary dance class and go down to Crumbs and get a cake—no, not a CUPCAKE, a whole freaking CAKE!—and eat the whole damn thing—I mean WHO CARES if you get fat, you will never be a dancer anyway!—while you look on Craigslist for a new job as a (GASP!) administrative professional!!!

Yes THAT kind of HARSH.

And it was all ok and everything was fine because, you know, that’s just how that world works. It’s results driven. You need to produce a certain quantity and quality of work in a certain amount of time. Usually there’s money involved. And careers at stake. And lots and lots of big fat egos. It’s a high-intensity, high-adrenaline, high-stress working environment, and the prominent style of teaching/directing reflects that. But whaddya gonna do? If you can’t take the heat, etc, etc.

In yoga though? Well… it’s NOT results driven. There is no end-of-year performance. It’s not a competition (unless you are competing, which is a whole different ballgame). It’s just about YOU doing the best you can on any given day. And mostly, teachers get that. They still push you of course, but not in a creepy, Black Swan, OMMIGOD YOUR ENTIRE CAREER DEPENDS ON YOU TAKING THIS ONE SINGLE CORRECTION IMMEDIATELY RIGHT NOW SO FREAKING DO IT, YOU LAZY IDIOT, OR YOU HAD BETTER BRUSH UP ON YOUR MICROSOFT OFFICE SKILLS AND GET A JOB IN A (GASP!) OFFICE, BECAUSE YOU WILL NEVER WORK IN THIS FIELD AGAIN! kind of way.

I think this is a good thing. Otherwise there would be a way longer line at Crumbs.

Anyway.

This weekend, I got my ass(ana) handed to me, in the form of specific individual corrections that, despite my best efforts, I just couldn’t manage to take. It wasn’t exactly a mania-inducing Black Swan situation, but let’s just say, if yoga was a subject in school, I would have failed.

EMBARRASSING, HUMILIATING, MORTIFYING, AMMIRIGHT?! Yes. Let’s review…

FRIDAY. Friday is my favorite class of the week, but also my toughest. It’s a hot room and a demanding teacher. (Of course, that’s why I love it.)

So we’re in the midst of the Standing Series, and I’m dying a little, per the usual. I’ve just fought a Hunger Games-style battle to the death with Standing Bow, and next up is Balancing Stick.

Now I struggle with Balancing Stick for many reasons. Mostly stemming from the fact that I used to be a dancer, and it is actually hell on earth for me to lift a leg—either in front of OR behind me—without turning out from the hip. This, to be clear, is a Bikram yoga no-no. I know that, and I TRY to fix it, but there’s only so fast you can un-do hours and hours and years and years of ballet. So needless to say, my progress has been laborious, minimal, and slow.

We begin the first set of the pose, and I’m struggling, as always, to keep my body up, leg up (but not too high), leg turned in, foot right behind my hip. Apparently, I am failing, and the teacher points it out.

“Alison, your leg is crossing over, get it right behind you.”

She steps behind me, grabs my lifted heel with her hand and manipulates it into the proper alignment. I whimper and wobble and nearly crumble into a pile of human parts at her feet. I swear I can hear her chuckle. Or maybe that’s just in my head…

We finish the first set, and the teacher stops class to demonstrate the pose, you know, since SOME of us (ahem) can’t seem to get our lifted leg in the right place. She gets herself into the pose.

“So I’m looking forward and I can see my lifted leg in the mirror…”

WHAT the…

“…so I can SEE if my leg is crossing over behind me or not.”

HUH? Wait. Ok. HOW is she seeing her LIFTED leg in the mirror?! She’s looking THAT FAR FORWARD? In BALANCING STICK?

“WHAT?” Pam asked when I explained it to her later, “HOW?! Does she have an eye on the top of her HEAD?!”

“Maybe…” I answered, only half kidding, wondering for a moment if the teacher was perhaps spiritually evolved enough to have developed a literal third eye.

But whatever, if she can do it, it must be possible! I’ll give it a go!

We start the second set, and I’m ready to see my lifted leg in the mirror. I get into the pose, I go to lift my head and look forward anddddd… NOTHING HAPPENS. My head doesn’t move. I can see about five feet on the floor in front of me, but there is no way in hell’s bells I’m gonna be able to see my foot in the mirror. Meanwhile, I’m mouth-breathing and panting and sweating like an animal trying to figure out HOW she managed to do it…

“ALISON! Your leg is crossing over!”

SHIT.

“You’d be able to SEE that IF YOU WERE LOOKING AT YOURSELF IN THE MIRROR.”

Uggggggh. Why why why. Now I look like a jerk! She probably thinks I’m not even trying. That I’m LAZY. That I DON’T CARE. UGH. I hate this. And I hate this feeling that I’m somehow letting the teacher down, that I’m not as strong as she thinks I should be, that she would think that I’m deliberately NOT taking a correction. I feel shamed, like I should be wearing a scarlet letter (L for Lazy, perhaps?). And I frown and bite my lip and stare the the floor. I am a disappointment to the world.

My insecurities are reaffirmed approximately 30 seconds later, when we’re in Standing Separate Leg Stretching.

Now you guys, sometimes it takes me a minute to get into this one. It seems easy and all, but there’s a lot going on! I’m trying to get my fingers WAY under my heels, and my elbows WAY behind my calf muscles, my toes turned in, my upper body stretched down, my weight forward, quads engaged, and on and on. AND I’m usually trying to catch my breath from the assault on my heart and lungs that IS the Balancing Series. It’s a lot and it takes a second or two to make it all happen!

So I’m working my way into the pose, and the teacher is pacing the room. As I’m going through my alignment checklist (see above), I remember the ever-popular “flashlight-in-the-butt” instruction that often accompanies this pose (“Pretend there’s a flashlight in your butt and you have to shine it up to the ceiling!”), and I widen my hips and stretch my body down further at JUST the moment she happens to turn and start walking toward my side of the room.

“OH, so NOW you’re doing it, because I’m walking toward you. Well, YOU HAVE TO DO IT ALL THE TIME.”

Jesus AGED. I swear on a stack of Bibles, if I could do it all the time, I would! Unfortunately for all of us, I am a HUMAN BEING and not an android, and trust me lady, I am JUST as disappointed about this as you are!

Now of course I don’t take anything personally. Her perception doesn’t determine my reality or self worth (it cost me approximately $2938592 in self-help books and 7823 hours of Oprah’s Life Class to be able to say that). But again, I HATE that she THINKS I’m being lazy. I furrow my eyebrows and bite my lip. Grrrrrr. Roar. Scream. WHY?!

SATURDAY. It’s Standing Separate Leg Stretching again. Is this my new nemesis? Maybe.

“Alison! Get your elbows further back behind you, like the first set of Padahastasana!”

Ahhhh yes. Padahastasana. That OTHER pose I can’s seem to do properly. I try to manipulate my elbows around my considerable calf muscles annnnnd… NOTHING. Jeeeez, HOW am I supposed to get these elbows in when my DAMN LEGS ARE IN THE WAY?! Fail. Big fat correction-taking FAIL.

SUNDAY. More fun. We’re in Standing Head To Knee.

Like in Balancing Stick, I struggle to quash my turnout in this one. I’m balancing on my left foot, right foot extended, elbows down, and my right foot, like always, is pointing slightly out to the right rather than directly up.

“Alison! Turn your toes in more. Get your foot straight.”

I turn it in about 2 degrees, at which point my right hip lifts and throws my balance so far off I almost fall. GRRRRRRR this is getting old. The teacher is nice about it.

“So at first you’ll turn your foot in and it will throw your balance off and you’ll feel like you’re going to fall, but that means you have to press harder into the inside of your standing leg. I do the same thing.”

I nod in appreciation of our singular struggle against the oppression of ballet turnout. Second set, I try again. Toes in, hip down, weight on the inside of the foot… NOTHING is happening.

“GET YOUR FOOT TURNED IN!!!”

UGH.

You guys, what is WRONG with me?!?

Now, here’s the thing: though this is all a BIG HUGE deal in my mind, I’m sure the teachers aren’t exactly losing sleep over it. I’m sure their last thought before they go to bed each night isn’t “Now why can’t Alison manage to see her lifted leg in the mirror?”. I’m sure they don’t throw down their dinner plates in disgust, screaming “I simply CANNOT enjoy these organic macrobiotic vegan soba noodles until I know why Alison is being so lazy in class!” In other words, I AM SURE THEY HAVE LIVES OF THEIR OWN AND MY STRUGGLES IN THE HOT ROOM ARE NOT THE FOREMOST PROBLEMS ON THEIR MIND.

However.

I still feel BAD about it. Why? Because they are good teachers. And they work hard. And I respect them and I’m grateful for the corrections. And I don’t want them to think I’m lazy. I don’t want them to think I’m belligerent. Or deliberately not listening, or ignoring them, or ungrateful. I don’t want them to think I’m stupid and just don’t understand what they’re saying. I don’t want them to roll their eyes and sigh impatiently at me when I go in tomorrow and my leg is STILL crossing over and my toes are STILL turning out and I’m STILL not reaching far enough around the back of my considerable calf muscles. I don’t want them to get frustrated with me for not taking the correction.

I wonder sometimes—I mean, I REALLY wonder—if they get that these things are going to take some TIME. It took a long time for me to develop all these bizarre, mostly dance-related, physical habits and mis-alignments, and hasn’t research shown that it takes TWICE as long to break a habit as to make one? I think so. Which means I am in for a long, long journey.

So HEY TEACHERS! I don’t know if any of you read this. Actually, it’s probably better that you don’t. But IF you are (hey, it’s a free country), know that I’m working on it. ALL of it. Mmmmmkay? I’m listening to you, and I’m NOT being lazy, I swear! My brain totally understands you! It’s just that my body doesn’t. Not yet. But one day, with continued effort on my part which I am totally committed to providing, it will!

And on that day, though it may be far into the future, my lifted leg WON’T cross over in Balancing Stick. And I WILL get my arms back behind my calves as my forehead touches the floor in Standing Separate Leg Stretching. And I WILL get my top leg turned in in Standing Head To Knee.

And on that magical mystical day far into the future, the clouds will part and the sun will shine and all the forest animals will come out and play with big smiles on their cartoon faces and all the trees and flowers will giggle and clap, and then we will all go to Crumbs and get a full size cake and eat it all in one sitting, but not out of DESPAIR this time, out of CELEBRATION! For on this magical day, my body and brain will have finally understood each other. I will have proven that I am a good, strong, hard-working, NON-LAZY, student, and I will finally—FINALLY!—have shown that above all else, I KNOW HOW TO TAKE A GODDAM CORRECTION!

THE END.