Facing Fears

October 17, 2011

At the top left of a Lululemon shopping bag it reads, “Do one thing a day that scares you.”  Today I did. 

A few years ago I got into mountain biking back home in Ketchum.  For that first season I was biking on trails way over my ablilty and doing great at them.  Call it beginners luck.  One day I had it handed to me and went head over handle bars on a switchback going down Bald Mountain.  The crash could have been much worse than it was.  I walked away with a badly cut open hip, elbow, and shoulder, but no broken bones.  Those injuries I could recover from.  The injury of the mind, however, would be another story. 

I haven’t been back on my mountain bike for a “real” ride since then.  Until today. 

We rolled into Moab last night just as the sun began to set over the glorious red sandstone landscapes.  The only other time I had been to Moab was a quick drive through on Main Street last winter.  I was fired up ready to explore!  Today, as I pumped up my tires and clipped my helmet, that fire burned down to a mere spark, just enough to keep me from saying ‘forget it’ and reading a book instead.  I stood at the helm of the SlickRock Practice Route and was shakin’ in my bike shoes.  It was time to get over my fears, or at least face them. 

The first mile I was less than happy.  It was stop and go, ride and walk, all the while fighting back tears of frustration and fear.  It is a great thing to have people in your life who care about you and push you to succeed in a gentle and loving way.  I was riding with Mat and our roommate Ian who came to meet up with us for the week.  They continued to encourage me to keep pushing through and to believe in myself.

It brought my back to my summer job as a counselor at Mountain Adventure Tours.  I spend every day working with kids to overcome their fears.  Fears of jumping off cliffs into the river, of climbing up a rock wall, of sleeping out under the stars, of holding a snake, or touching the trout they just caught.  And here I was now.  FULL of fear. 

The most frustrating thing about it was discovering the enormous difference between fear of the unfamiliar (often fear not worthy of our time and energy) and fear of the familiar.  Not only was this fear of something I was familiar with, but it was fear of something I used to be pretty darn good at! 

Mati is a great hockey goalie.  He took the time to tell me the story of the first time he was hit in the face with a puck that cracked his helmet and gave him 6 stitches.  “After that day” he said, “I flinched every time someone set up to take a shot on me, for a long time”.  I was glad to learn that he could relate on some level to the way I was feeling. 

I finished the practice loop unscathed and with a new level of confidence in my bike and my ability.  The fire had been stoked and I was ready for more.  We set up camp, had a snack, and hit the trails for one more ride before sundown.  This one was different.  It was longer, rocky and technical-and SO MUCH FUN!  We laughed, yelled into the canyons, and I fell twice.  While I was standing still. 

It felt amazing to succeed and take a step, or a pedal, in the right direction.  I am reminded of why I push our summer camp kids to at least make an attempt the things that scare them the most.  Because it feels SO good when we do!

It had to happen eventually...

October 15, 2011
"Nothing makes the great spirit laugh harder than a man's plan."-MiddleFork River Guide

It had to happen eventually...teaching my first class. In June of this year Mat and I each completed a six month yoga teacher training led by two of my favorite teachers in the valley, Cathie Caccia and Pilar Tumolo. I will be the first to admit that I've been fearful of leading my first class, of feeling confident enough in MY voice to stand in front of people and teach them what I know.

Last night at the world premier of Warren Miller's "Like There's No Tomorrow", we decided to bite the bullet and go for it. We placed a small sign outside of the Airstream that said "Free Yoga". It was late, and who knows how many eyes glanced over the sign, but it was done, and we were committed.

The next morning, as we prepared our playlist and worked on our sequencing, we pondered how the class would go. Would twenty people show up? Or maybe no one? Which did we prefer? And then, there she was. Our student. That's right, singular. We were then presented with one of the great lessons of teaching. You never know how many students you are going to get, and you will especially never know WHO those students will be. There we sat, waiting for her to finish her cigarette and find her comfortable seated position.

When confronted with the question of "is there anything we should be aware of going on in your body", she replied, "well...I might be pregnant. I have very bad ankles and knees, and I get very dizzy." It was time to throw away the plan and start from scratch. You can imagine how the rest of the hour class that we cut to 45 minutes went.

Mati and I took turns sharing our favorite parts of the practice, stories, theories, and ideas. We had a great time co-teaching, and learned that we make a really awesome team in yet another aspect of our life. As the time passed on my heart continued to open wider and wider to this woman and her challenges in this life. I found myself yearning to feed her more of what I have to offer. At the end of the class I asked for her feedback. She said to me, "I really enjoyed your class. You HAVE a voice, and I can feel that it will get stronger. Be confident in that voice! Your healing is in your touch. Continue to develop that and you will do great things." We hugged and she went on her way. A way that is so different than my way-but there we were for a short time, united in supta baddha konasana, connected at the touch of my thumb on her third eye, releasing the worry from her brow.

I learned more from this first teaching experience than I ever could have imagined. It was a lesson in remaining free from judgment. A lesson in acceptance and patience, and in opening the heart to all beings. As a teacher, you may go into a class with a plan only to find that you will throw it out the window. I learned that you may have twenty people show up to your class, and that you may only have one. And if it happens to be one, be grateful for that time you have to give them all you have got.

Road Warriors

October 13, 2011

"A change in scenery does not change one's character." -Aesop

     Life on the road is a good life, especially when you get to embark on the journey with the one you love.  Road warriors are what they call us.  What is a warrior?  Webster defines warrior as ' a person engaged in some struggle or conflict'.  In my mind, a warrior is one who, like Aesop said, maintains their character throughout an ever changing world.  

    Mati and I have been hired by Eddie Bauer's First Ascent to tour in their Airstream with the Warren Miller ski film, "Like There's No Tomorrow."  Two months on the road touring with some of the world's best athletes on snow.  Thousands of miles exploring some of the great cities of Utah, Oregon, and Colorado.  First stop, Salt Lake City, UT for the WORLD PREMIER.  

    Being a Lululemon Ambassador to my local shop in Ketchum, ID, my challenge to myself is to maintain a healthy practice each day that I am away.  To remain grounded while the ground beneath me changes daily.  Even if it means just squeezing in one single pose, or five minutes of sitting, on a day of covering 600 miles of pavement.  

    In yoga, Virabhadra means Warrior.  Break it down even more:  Vira=Hero and  Bhadra=Friend.  The pose itself is strong and steady, firm and confident.  So here I go on the road again, to discover the best ways to practice on the go, and maintain the integrity of mind, body, and soul.  To be a hero to myself, and to everyone who I surround myself with.  To be a friend to myself, and everyone I meet.