AfricanKelli

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This week I’m being stretched in a variety of new ways; the yoga has gone well. I feel like I’ve got a rhythm to it now, but the first few back-to-back days weren’t easy. Then, I took a class and noticed we were almost done. We were getting out of camel pose and had 10 minutes left; I wondered how that had happened. I was present; I simply wasn’t in pain.

Bikram apparently tells a tale that when you are in pain during his class, it is a reminder that nothing can take away your happiness. One silly 1 minute pose standing on your toes with all your weight pushing forward? It is still just one silly minute. Breathe and before you know it, you won’t remember the pain.

If you are interested in reading more about Bikram yoga, Oprah Magazine has been featuring it for the last two months. My studio sent out these links and I thought her story was sad and empowering. Month 1. Month 2.

My Bikram tip for the week is to remember to always wash your face before class. There is nothing more frustrating than being in a pose and fully concentrating when you have to stop because mascara has run into your eyes and is screaming for attention. My studio provides face wash in the bathroom and I’m sure to use it now before each session.

There wasn’t a whopping weight change on the scale this morning, and to be honest — that’s okay. I know I am stronger this week with 8 classes under my belt so far than I was last. Plus, the sleeping issues have me over-compensating with food, as I’m prone to do when I can’t figure out why I feel gross. Granted, mint chocolate chip doesn’t give me extra rest, but it certainly does give me a smile.

The stretching professionally and personally continues too; it’s in these times, when I feel a bit uncomfortable, that I know I’m learning something.

Sometimes I’m learning I need another scoop.

~K

Life is exciting and hectic this week; I’m not crafting, cooking or gardening. Rather, I am sweating like a maniac in Bikram each morning, eating gobs of good food I’m not preparing for the rest of the day, and trying to maintain sanity. Today: lunch at one of my local faves — Pita Jungle.

Their gazpacho is as fantastic as the hummus trio. (I may go there often enough to know several of the servers by name.)

The new job is going very well, although I’m on the farthest left-hand side of the learning bell curve. There is so much to understand and accomplish; I am very much in my element working at a university. A bit premature to make sweeping statements, but truly I like this position thus far.

Tomorrow morning is the Bikram weigh in! Are you nervous? I am. I have taken this week by the horns professionally and just barely made it through physically. Apparently one of the side effects they don’t mention about regular Bikram practice is “not needing to sleep as much.” Read: insomnia. I’ve been getting 3-4 per night, which is far from my normal — feel free to roll your eyes at my infantile sleeping needs — 9-10 hours. I love sleep. I like Bikram. We’ll see how long these two decide to bicker.

Hasta,

~K

If there is a theme to my closest circle of childhood friends, it’s that we all attended United Methodist churches as youth. We were a part of Methodist Youth Fellowship.  This means we spent our summers playing late-night, sweaty, parking lot volleyball tournaments against each other. We passed our winters curled up in drafty cabins or hunting jackalope on Mingus Mountain. We danced far too close wearing far too much Jovan/Sand and Sable to Boyz II Men at countless dances and lock-ins. We adventured for weeks in vans trekking across the western United States volunteering  in forests, sleeping on hard church floors and eating copious amounts of Taco Bell until we thought we would eventually ring.

And at some point, we became adults and scattered.

It’s funny to think of it now — the Yas — all in this group. As are many of my closest male friends. I spent so much of my teenage awkward years in a church fellowship hall flirting, eating pizza and rolling my jeans, it is amazing I learned anything from my pastor. Most of my friends don’t attend church today. Just as I can’t imagine my life without it, they cannot image theirs with it. To each is own.

On top of a few of the other changes happening around here this week, I’ve accepted a part-time gig at my church to help with children’s ministries. I am really looking forward to creating a MYF group, strengthening Sunday school curriculum, getting more kids and parents involved and making church a fun place for little ones to come spend time.

So — this is where you come in. Do you have any happy memories of church as a child? What and how did you learn that you still remember today? If you are a parent, what types of activities do you like to see your children involved in with church? What seems to work?

I am completely new to this type of ministry and would love any suggestions of books, activities, etc you may have. So, please delurk and leave a comment.

~K

P.S. Get the girls in the car and we’ll still sing any Boyz II Men song at the top of our lungs. Also, we’ve been known recently to still enjoy copious amounts of Taco Bell.

I’ve had a headache for the last three days centered behind my left eye. Little has provided relief — much less the hot, sweaty yoga I made such a public commitment to keep. I didn’t get a thing done this weekend other than attend yoga and watch hours of movies with squinted vision.

They say it is the darkest before the dawn. Perhaps my body is preparing for the change my heart and head have already accepted. I suspect I’m fighting caffeine withdrawal and the yoga may be doing a thing or two to my lymphatic system. Also, I’d guess I’m dehydrated;  it is going to take some time to figure out the Bikram/water/feel great ratio. I don’t have it down yet. Tomorrow, I suspect, will be far kinder.

Tomorrow, after all, is a new job. A new outfit. A new routine. A new way of life. A new set of challenges. A new beginning.

These, I believe, are just what the doctor ordered.

~K

This morning I started a 60-day challenge at my Bikram studio. I’ve got 1 class down and 59 days to complete the remainder. I also weighed myself for the first time in months: 168.3.

How’s that for transparency? To be honest, I’ve been staring at these blurry photos, shot in my bathroom this morning bleery eyed before class, and debating whether or not this post crosses some silly line of over-sharing. It probably does. If my white belly bothers you, look away. I’m sure we’ll be back to crafts and baked goods soon.

Like most women, I’ve long had a love-hate affair with my figure. Lately, we are on good terms. I don’t mind that my weight is in the 160s or that my belly jiggles a bit when I fold in half like a “japanese ham sandwich.” My legs are strong from running. My shoulders still carry muscle from a dozen years of competitive swimming. My feet are the same gigantic size 11 they were when they stopped growing in 5th grade.

I’d love to tell you I’m doing this challenge because I expect to lose 20 pounds and have some sort of miraculous six pack to emerge from the pasty white mid-section above. I’d also like to have a 5-acre garden to feed unicorns on rainbow-filled days. The unicorns are scheduled to arrive far sooner, carrying George Clooney and a winning lottery ticket.

I will be posting how things are going once a week or so — including weight and flexibility changes. More than anything I want to conquer that ever-so-frustrating tree  toe stand pose and show myself this is a challenge I am strong and dedicated enough to rock.

~K