Yoga for Grieving

Last Friday night, I attended a free 'Yoga for Grieving' class at Pittsburgh's Keystone Health Club.  It has a really cool industrial vibe, being located in an old Westinghouse Plant.  From the parking garage, the walkway into the club overlooks the vast expanse of a long-vacated manufacturing plant that once was part of the area's economic backbone.  Now it's just a lot of emptiness except for this jewel of a health club, tucked into a corner of this big open space.  Last June, I saw an ad from a local funeral home (Patrick T. Lanigan) announcing its sponsorship of this class as part of its grief support outreach.  I tucked it away, thinking that some day I would like to attend.  Since the class is only every other Friday night at 7:00 p.m., I kept missing it due to other schedule commitments. 
As part of our yoga teacher training, we are supposed to attend two classes a week.  It helps to observe different instructors and styles of yoga and to see how other studios are organized. 
With nothing better to do, I set off for East Pittsburgh directly from work.  It was not until I put the address into my smartphone that I suddenly realized that the route would take me through Braddock PA.  My parents and maternal grandparents are all buried in the Braddock Catholic Cemetery.   Probably almost a century ago, my maternal grandfather and his two brothers purchased cemetery plots on the same hillside overlooking this old industrial town.  My mother's family included talented stonemasons -- there were family monument businesses in Dravosburg and New Kensington.  The three family headstones are beautiful examples of their work.  My grandparents' is an artful representation of the Agony in the Garden.  My cousin tells a funny story that her mother did not want to be buried in Braddock, but she loved the design of the headstone.  They graciously accommodated her desire to be located in a more upscale city location, Calvary Cemetery, and replicated the exact design in what is now her final resting place. 
Thinking that visiting the cemetery was the thing to do, seeing as I was on my way to a yoga class designed to help grieving people, I arrived at the family gravesite as the sun was nearly setting in the sky. 

I always cry when visiting this place and arrived at the Keystone Commons in an appropriately grieving state of mind.  There are other blog posts on this site where I have reflected on how yoga has helped me occupy my time, mind and body at times of loss.  The class was very gentle, much of it done in a chair.   There was no conversation about loss or grief or mourning.  Just dim lights, calming music and soothing postures. 
Teaching yoga is not something I am sure I can do.  But I could do this kind of class. 

You Really Should (Visit Pittsburgh)

One of my many vices is compulsively searching travel websites.  A recent post on nbcnews.com (which used to be msnbc.com, but MS and NBC have apparently divorced, at least online) was taken from www.independenttraveler.com.  Titled, "9 places you haven't visited, but should", the article by Elissa Leibowitz Poma http://www.independenttraveler.com/slideshow/9-places-you-havent-visited-but-should, listed countries (Zambia, Oman, Singapore, South Korea, Colombia and Armenia), a state park (Valley of Fire) in Nevada and two cities, Chan Chan, Peru and Pittsburgh, PA (no I am not kidding).   
I am truly unlikely to be visiting any of the aforementioned sites soon, except for the one where I make my home, Pittsburgh.
The article, like many of these travel briefs that appear in magazines and websites, provides just a few sentences on each of the nine recommendations.  And for Pittsburgh, after reminding the reader that it is no longer gritty and smoky, thanks to the demise of the steel industry, she highlights the Warhol Museum, Phipps Conservatory and the "historical funicular called the Monongahela Incline".
So, what are the other sites I would add to her list?   On a long trip back from a weekend wedding we attended in Charleston, West Virginia I came up with the following "9 places you should visit in Pittsburgh, if you haven't":

1. The Maxo Vanka murals at St. Nicholas Croatian Church in Millvale.
2. PNC Park for a Skyblast after a Pirate Game.
3. The Nationality Rooms at the Cathedral of Learning.
4. Wild Rosemary Restaurant.
5. Pamelas, preferably in Millvale.
6. The city view from the West End Bridge.
7. The fountain at Point State Park.
8. The parking lots before a home Steeler game for an introduction to 'Steeler Nation'.
9. The River Walk from the Convention Center, across the Seventh Street Bridge and along the river past both PNC Park and Heinz Field.

What's on your list of best places in the 'Burgh?  

Yoga Classes and Catholic Masses

It's been a loooooong summer vacation from this blog.    And I truly want to get back to blogging, to thinking and writing about health and wellness and to doing more about health and wellness.  This summer has been bookended by two awesome vacations, one in early summer that took me to both coasts (Maine and Northern California) with Montana in between and a late summer trek by car to the Smoky Mountains in Tennessee. 


They really are smoky!

What is a vacation?   The word shares Latin roots with the words vacancy and vacate, so it has something to do with space, emptiness and openness.   While there has been frantic activity to be sure, especially in Maine and California with kids, moves and San Francisco sightseeing and visiting, there has been much quiet and solitude.   Quiet and solitude as in not doing much of anything.  In both Montana and Tennessee, there was no access to cell phones, newspapers or the Internet.  In Montana, there was no television.  So, lots of reading, thinking and sitting. 

Yet always from my childhood up to today, there is never a vacation from the obligation to attend Sunday (and post Vatican II, Saturday) Mass.  No matter where we were, we found a Catholic Church.  There was no discussion, no debating, no break.  And as a adult with a family of my own, this tradition has continued.   It has made for some challenges.  Try finding a Catholic Church in Salt Lake City or the Cayman Islands.  Since the advent of the Internet and a great website, www.masstimes.org,  the task has been made much easier.   But what wonderful memories of grand and tiny churches, in places ranging from the Brompton Oratory to Hilton Head.  And on the most recent vacation in Tennessee, the absolute luxury of two Masses (on Sunday and one for the August 15 Feast of the Assumption) that were celebrated right in our rented vacation villa, thanks to two priests who were with our group and vacationing too.   While vacations bring adventure and new places, there is something comforting about finding the universal Church wherever I go.

Lately I have added a new vacation tradition, with taking yoga classes whenever possible while on vacation.  Not as predictably found as Catholic masses and with content not nearly as consistent, I have done yoga in Puerta Vallarta, Puerto Rico, on a cruise ship and on a dude ranch in Montana. 

The photo doesn't do justice to the view from the yoga studio, but you get the idea.

(Note to fellow Yoga Teacher trainees -- the Gatlinburg Tennessee location appears to be woefully underserved.  Wedding chapels abound, but no yoga studios).  I have travel yoga memories now etched in my head, including arising from Savasana this Memorial Day weekend to gently falling snow outside in the Absaroka Mountains in Montana and to rocking on a cruise ship in choppy waters in Alaska trying to keep my balance. 
On vacation, we still eat -- we need to keep those prayer and exercise routines going too! 

Changing Course

One of the axioms in the quality management world is that if you do what you've always done, you get what you've always gotten.  So in an effort to get something different, I am doing something different.  Yoga has become a part of my life and I continue to be drawn to it -- but still not really understanding what "it" is. 
Teaching was part of my professional life for over two decades.  It helped me to understand what I was doing professionally, because I had to explain it to others.  So, I have enrolled in yoga teacher training so that I can add the credential RYT after my name -- and learn.
We are a group of about 20 people with incredibly diverse backgrounds.  I hope to be able to write about this experience as a way of reinforcing it.  We are required to keep a journal and I wrote the following at the end of the first class on January 15.
'Me, a yogi?  And I don't mean bear or Berra!   In the midst of a roomful of beginner students, I feel like a true beginner.  There are people here who are already teachers -- lots of lanky bodies -- no pot bellies the size of mine. 
I paid in full, not just to save the higher cost of installment payments, but to make a commitment. Time to leave today.   Time to start." 

EMM's 10-10-10 Plan

I seem to respond better to words than pictures.  When Dr. Natalie wrote the words "Exercise 30-60 minutes each day" and then spoke the words "Exercise is not optional", I internalized those orders.   Trying to deal with the eating and minding part has been much more challenging than the moving part.   A previous blog post described the first anniversary of my exercise log; and there are already 52 entries since  beginning the second year on August 15.  
One of my favorite wake up TV shows is Morning Joe on MSNBC.  I think of it as a thinking person's show because it is funny but thought provoking (and I like Mika Brzezinski too).  Anyway, they talk sports (baseball mostly) and politics, tracking the Republican candidates and the debates.  Lately, they have been having some fun at Herman Cain's expense.  It seems that when he was in single digit popularity numbers, he did not actually have well thought out policy proposals.  So 9-9-9 was his mantra for awhile until people actually began to seriously examine its impact.  And when he tried to explain the 9% sales tax added onto already existing state and local sales taxes as apples and oranges, the resulting reaction forced him to rethink the whole 9-9-9 concept in pretty short order.
But my 10-10-10 concept has been working pretty well when I cannot get a continuous 30 minutes of exercise on some days.  It means breaking up the exercise into three 10 minute blocks.  Or it can be 10-20 or 15-15.  Today was 10-20.  Upon arriving home, I still had 20 minutes to go.  That's four times around the circle that is our neighborhood.  Done. 

No Vacation from Too Many Choices

If you are looking for a quick getaway from Pittsburgh, Philadelphia or the DC area, consider  Bedford Springs.  It's got a lot to recommend it, especially as fall begins to re-color the landscape.  The resort is chock full of historical documents, photographs and artifacts, from the era when Bedford Springs was the edge of the frontier up through its magnificent restoration and reopening in 2007.  The spa, with its mineral baths and European trained aestheticians (I could only understand about half of what my Polish facialist said) is exquisitely appointed.  And for those of you who are golfers, they have that too. 
It was the summer White House for the only President from Pennsylvania (and the only bachelor one), James Buchanan.   Two other Presidents visited there, John Tyler and Ronald Reagan. 

Desk used by James Buchanan during his years of summering at Bedford Springs



I thought that perhaps by sitting at James Buchanan's desk, I could break my current writers block (or more specifically, a blogging block).  It's been tough to blog about my current state, which can best be described as erratically compliant and frequently off-track in the eating part of this journey.  I am moving just fine, keeping up with my exercise routine (and the fitness center at Bedford Springs is small, but adequate).  There are several blog posts in the queue, in various stages of progress.  One fact that keeps swirling in my head since I first read about it in the Canyon Ranch Magazine is that we make 200 different food decisions a day.  This comes courtesy of the Cornell Food and Brand Lab and its Director, Brian Wansink.  Yes, people actually research this stuff -- and the results are actually helpful to understanding why making lasting change is so challenging.  
I understand that stopping smoking is difficult and that the urge to smoke is one of the strongest addictions to break.   But the decision is easy and it is only one decision.  Making it stick means repeating the same decision over and over again. 
But decisions about not just what to eat but about portion size come at me from all directions.  First I was skeptical about the 200 number.  Then I got to thinking.  The opportunity to make good and bad choices related to food starts from the moment I wake up until the moment I fall asleep (and occasionally in the middle of the night).   And the barrage of conflicting and confusing dietary advice compounded by vagaries of blood sugar readings added to the unpredictable nature of when and how food decisions present themselves adds up to the exhausting reality that it is possible to make 180 good decisions, and another 20 or 10 or even one that totally screw up the best laid plans.  I have learned that planning is best and that pre-controlled portion size works for me.   And beginning again and again. 

Destination Walking



It's about a mile and a half from the parking lot in the Strip to Heinz Field.  One of the strategies I have been trying to use to get in exercise is destination walking -- not movement for movement's sake, but getting from point A to point B.   That's JB walking along the river.   One hour a day seems overwhelming when it's on a treadmill.   But checking out the scenery with a destination in mind and a companion sure makes it go faster.  







Is Yoga a Religion?

Once at the end of a Sunday morning yoga class, a woman blurted out, "This is sooo much better than church!". That memory has stuck with me. Churches struggle with how to attract young people. Young people, especially young women, flock to yoga. 
After more than three years and hundreds of classes, I remain perplexed about what yoga really is.  One thing for sure, any type of exercise that can be done lying down is inherently appealing to me.
It seems there are yoga studios popping up everywhere.  As a business opportunity, it has a pretty low barrier to entry.  Not a lot of capital investment.  Two hundred hours of training and one can become a yoga instructor.  All it takes is an empty room and some mats, blocks and blankets.  Poof, it's a yoga business.
Since anyone with some training can become an instructor, there is wide variation in the quality and content of a yoga class.  Some include chanting and esoteric discussions about yoga sutras, in studios decorated with statues of Buddha and Buddhist flags.    Others would make Jane Fonda feel right at home, with lots of  lunges, twists and aerobic level routines.  Some include meditation, with readings.  Some conclude with physical relaxation techniques, of the relax your head, relax your neck, etc, working their way through the body.  One of my oldest and funniest yoga class memories happened on a family vacation at a dude ranch in Montana.  The instructor was going through the parts of the body to relax, including a request that we relax our kidneys.
Afterwards, a physician in the class observed wryly that, "if I relaxed my kidneys, I'd pee on the floor!" 
Then there are the gurus.  While the vast majority of yoga instructors in this community are women, the 'names' in yoga are more typically men.  Rodney Yee, John Friend, Max Strom and Bikram Choudhury are just a few of those who have followings.  And Choudhury has copyrighted and franchised his approach, hence, 'Bikram' yoga was born.  
Some people claim that those who practice yoga and claim to be Christians are on the path to spiritual ruin.  The Catholic newspaper of our diocese ran an article about a local 'PraiseMoves' instructor.  I tried a couple of her classes.  The poses were given new names and the routines are liberally sprinkled with biblical passages.  She was very kind, very sincere and very convinced of the value of PM as the Christian alternative to yoga.  But PraiseMoves is a franchise too, requiring its own teacher training and certification. 
Catholic bishops and pastors have been known to ban yoga classes.  But Catholic retreat centers also offer yoga classes and yoga retreats.  I know, I attended one earlier this year taught by a Paulist priest, Father Thomas Ryan who is a Kripalu trained yoga instructor. 
In the Introduction to his book, "Prayer of Heart and Body: Meditation and Yoga as Christian Spiritual Practice", he explains that Kripalu was, until 1985, a Jesuit novitiate.   But the Jesuits had to downsize due to the lack of recruits.  Now, Father Ryan points out, hundreds of people reside in a celibate community, and accept a simple lifestyle under the direction of a guru.  In a further bit of irony, he notes that a mosaic of St. Ignatius Loyola looks down upon people who are largely in the 20-45 age range, a population coveted by church pastors, who largely minister to a significantly older group. 
His writings and retreats are based on integration of yoga with Christian spirituality.  He heads a Center dedicated to interfaith understanding and has apparently not been kicked out of the priesthood or  summoned to Rome for retraining.
This morning I went to Mass and then to Gentle Yoga. I'm sticking with both. 

Happy Anniversary

On August 15, 2010, I started logging my exercise, nothing fancy, just using the 'notes' on my IPhone. Most experts in lifestyle change advocate writing things down, and the Weight Watchers program incorporates 'tracking'.   Tracking, either on paper or on WW etools, has never been my strong suit.  But today, I celebrate the first anniversary of my exercise log.  Back when I was first diagnosed, Dr. Natalie, in discussing exercise, said it was not optional.  Or rather, not exercising is not an option.  And so I do. 
The advantage of recording is that you have a record.. duh!   Reviewing it tells a story.  Lapses?  Sure.   But a review of the log shows 65 yoga classes and 184 walking entries.  Perfect?  No.
I am no longer seeking perfection, only consistency. 
BTW, my A1C went from 7.9 to 6.5.
Dr. Natalie is happy and so am I. 
Heading to Yoga tonight. 

Running Away From Rome (Part One)

Looking forward to leaving the sweltering heat and humidity of the 'Burgh and traveling to Maine later this week.  My friend Dolly hosts an annual lobster fest at her family home that I have been wanting to attend for years.  This year it looks like the stars have finally aligned and JB and I will get to go and eat lobster and sit on Dolly's front porch.  She grew up literally across the street from where the lobster fishermen keep their boats (or whatever the correct nautical term is) with a view of the Atlantic Ocean.  She once showed me a coffee table book by Walter Cronkite that had an aerial view of the house and her quaint Maine village.  How idyllic. 
The place I grew up in was a suburb of a steel mill town;  my childhood memories are of hearing slag trucks drive by as they carried the remnants of steel making to another suburb to form the foundation for a new shopping mall.  There was not a lot of physical beauty.  We would take occasional trips to county or state parks and vacations to Boston, where my dad lived just after he immigrated to the US.   On those trips, I caught a glimpse of what people who grow up in coastal areas experience. 
St. Augustine is quoted as saying -- "The world is a book and those who do not travel read only a page."   I want to read many pages.  The book, "1,000 Places to See Before You Die: A Traveler's Life List" sits on a table in our family room. 
This week I get to go somewhere new that is listed there, Acadia National Park.  Since Clare is spending the summer in Maine, we will get to spend time with her too.  She suggested places to stay, and encouraged us to look beyond the Marriotts, at least for a few nights.  And so we have compromised and I have B&B reservations for three nights.  She further recommended Camden, Maine as a place to stay.  B & B reservations can be a little diffcult to come by for three people during Maine's high season.  After some online searching and phone calling, I found myself in conversation with a woman speaking with an accent I could not easily identify.  At first I thought it odd, since I expected to hear that distinctive Maine pronunciation that Dolly first introduced me to and that I have since come to recognize on trips to Maine with Clare. 
The B&B reservations person who happens to be the owner apologized for her difficulties and mentioned that she is Italian.  Italian??  How would an Italian end up running a B&B on the coast of Maine?  Through the joys of the Internet, I was able to read the story of an Italian couple's life in Rome, interest in US travel and decision to move to Maine.
It's pretty hard for me to understand how someone would want to leave Rome and relocate to a beautiful, yet seasonally challenging place like Maine (think sub-zero and snowed in for months on end).   
I am looking forward to meeting her and hope to post more soon about their travels and ours too. 

A Letter from Canyon Ranch

A letter arrived,  postmarked June 14, return address Canyon Ranch, tag line "The Power of Possibility (r)"  It was addressed to me in my own handwriting.  I had no recall of having written it -- kind of like those postcards you fill out to yourself at the dentist office and they mail to you to remind you of your next appointment.  Whatever had I written to myself?  I procrastinated about opening it -- mostly because I thought it would contain some letter reminding me that there are things I planned to do that I have not done--you know the lose 15 pounds in 15 days types of promises to oneself.  After about a week, I peeked in the envelope and pulled out a one page document, titled, 'Commitment to Myself' and dated March 23, 2011.  On it I had written a total of 38 words.  Three statements of commitment to a healthier style and three changes that would be apparent three months out. 
I was pleasantly surprised.  Perhaps I did learn something new there about behavior change.  The commitments I made were modest -- to incorporate the recommendations for diet change and exercise and to apply my personal values.  The changes I hoped to realize have been.  They were modest also, having to do with how my clothes fit, my ability to do more challenging yoga and having lower blood sugar levels.
Every day brings challenges and there have been setbacks.  Three things I have learned so far in this journey that I talk to myself about consistently.

1. Stay in Today (forget yesterday and don't worry about tomorrow).  There is a reason why the Lord's Prayer speaks of 'our daily bread'.  I only make positive progress when I keep myself firmly planted in the present moment.
2. Small Changes.  Things like taking the stairs, walking to local destinations (church, coffee shop), parking a longer distance from entrances and remembering to move instead of sit when I can.
3. Simple Pleasures.  Farmers markets and more real food (I ask myself -- "Who made this and What's in it?")  I'm beginning to prefer a more basic diet of fruits, vegetables and meats.  And wine, in very small amounts has really helped.  

Other results?  Went to Weight Watchers this morning.  Down a total of 15 pounds since the beginning of the year, nine since Canyon Ranch (and 27 since my all time high).  Not earth shattering, but my goal has always been to get 50 pounds off -- 23 more to go and eight months to go. 

Airplane Yoga

If you have noticed a paucity of posts lately, it's because I have been traveling this month.  I love to travel; and I know that it's not just the destination that matters, but the journey. But seriously, traveling coach on US Airways is no fun. My usual m.o. is to bury myself in a book and a couple of trashy magazines.  I read "The End of Overeating" by David Kessler M.D. and found it a fascinating read about how our appetites have been manipulated by the culture, the media and food manufacturers so that our bodies and our brains are totally misguided and confused; and a great profile of the newlyweds William and Catherine in Vanity Fair and a wonderfully decadent Spa magazine that made me want to immediately plan my next getaway.   But since "moving" is part of my new m.o.,  I talked myself into experimenting with airplane seat yoga.  I have taken enough gentle yoga, including chair yoga, over the past three years that I figured I could come up with some poses that would incorporate stretching, breathing and relaxation to help me tolerate two cross-country flights.
My yoga teachers, Jen in particular, focuses always and fundamentally on the breath.  She teaches four-count breathing, although I like a five-count.  In and out, rhythmically, it is calming and creates a certain mindfulness.  These are some of the poses I came up with that created more of a relaxing physical experience to complement the escapist and sometimes mindless reading I do in flight.  (OK, the lawyer in me comes out.  I am not an expert and not a yoga teacher.  Do these at your own risk!)
While breathing,

1. Chin to Chest
2. Chin to Ceiling
3. Lower Ear towards the shoulder and use your arm and your head to help with the stretch.
4. Wrist Circles
5. Point and Flex the Feet
6. Spread the Toes
7. Seated Twists, putting one arm behind your back and and looking over your shoulder, with your other arm on your knee or your armrest
8. Mini Hip Circles
9. Open the Tray Table, rest your head on your arms and lean forward as you exhale to get a deeper stretch
10. Mini Cat and Cows, rolling your shoulders forward and backward
11. Eagle arms
12. Raise your arms overhead and stretch
13. Slide your arms forward down your legs as you bend forward, getting a deeper stretch as you exhale
14. Pull your bellly into your spine and your spine into your belly.
15. And for final relaxation, put your seat back and breathe. 

The photo above is of the Napa Valley and was taken from the Wine Train.  A relaxing dinner and ride that included a memorable sunset.  Makes the coach travel worthwhile. 

One Cigarette Butt at a Time

I confess to not understanding smokers at all.  I can relate to smoking as an addiction and appreciate that it is a compulsive behavior.   My workplace is smoke free, including buildings and grounds.  But the sidewalks and driveways approaching the front entrance are littered with cigarette butts from smokers who discard their butts on the ground.  You've surely seen smokers toss their butts indiscriminately out windows of cars or while strolling down streets.  While working last weekend and crossing the driveway from the Emergency Department to my office, I passed a newly planted flower garden littered with cigarette butts.  I've passed this particular spot dozens of times before when it was bare dirt.   A burst of anger and energy came over me, and I marched to my office, put on latex gloves that are kept there for housekeeping, and stormed back to the flower garden.  I then spent the next few minutes picking up butts that had been planted like seeds next to the flowers, in the rock beds nearby and on the sidewalk.  Today, three days later, I passed by again and no new butts!  I feel like the young man in the starfish story, making a difference, one cigarette butt at a time.  If you don't know the story, here it is. 

The Starfish

Strolling along the beach, a woman catches sight of a young man who appears to be dancing at the water's edge. The young man bends down, straightens to his full height and then casts his arm out in an arc. Drawing closer, she sees that the sand is littered with starfish and he is throwing them, one by one, back into the sea.

She says, ‘There are stranded starfish as far as the eye can see. What difference can saving a few of them possibly make?’

Smiling, he stoops down and tosses another starfish out over the water, saying, ‘It made a difference to that one.’

Those Who Fail To Plan

… plan to fail.  Isn’t that how the saying goes?  I have not written a lot of posts lately about the ‘Eat’-focused portion of this blog.  But the last few weeks have been a struggle.  This is party-time, with lots of social stuff going on related to work and personal life, including retirement dinners, nurses and hospital week celebrations, graduation parties and reunions.  I’ve been avoiding the scale and when I checked this morning, it showed an increase of 2.3 pounds since my last Weight Watchers weigh-in on April 26.  Yikes!  It’s kind of freaking me out.  Now, overall I am still down 22 pounds from my peak weight and 11 since January.  But still, it’s going in the wrong direction. 

But let me digress.  I am not a very organized person – I don’t typically make lists; my desk is cluttered; I’d have a hard time finding my social security card if I had to; and right now, have been unable to locate the parking pass that opens the gate to the hospital garage for several days.  The only good thing about not knowing where the parking pass is?  I have to walk from one of the outlying lots so I get more exercise.

This disorganization is itself a source of stress.  I truly am in awe of those who are blessed with the organization gene.   You know, they’re the ones who send thank you notes promptly, keep track of birthdays, can locate the family mailing list, the ones you call when you need an address or phone number and who don’t have to move stuff out of the front seat of the car when driving you somewhere. 

What I have noticed in the last few weeks is that I get into trouble when I do not meticulously and consciously plan meals and snacks or when a meeting involving a meal or at mealtime interrupts my typical schedule. 

So next week, I have a three-day business trip with a group from work.  I have started thinking about how I will take food with me to help me get through it.  It’s at a world-famous healthcare institution known for a focus on wellness, but I am not going to take any chances.  Mentally, I have begun packing an insulated tote bag with some low-carb staples like cut vegetables, Greek yogurt, Mary’s Gone Crackers, Yumnuts, etc.

Not willing to wing this one.  Not willing to skip another Weight Watchers weigh-in either. 

Goodbye, Race for the Cure

For the last several Mothers Days, my cousin and I have attended the Race for the Cure in Pittsburgh. I have no plans to attend next year. The first year I was inspired. This year I have a level of disappointment that must reflect a change in me, because the Race seems pretty much the same. What has changed in me? Well, the event that triggered the creation of this blog, a diagnosis of diabetes. Today's Race for the Cure provided an opportunity to show support for my cousin, who is a survivor, but she, like me, has diabetes. At the Race, there is lots of commercial promotion tied to breast cancer awareness, involving megasponsors like Ford and New Balance. I get the marketing connection and the need of advertisers to connect with the female demographic. What I don't get is the prevalence of food that is at worst, bad and at best, inappropriate to be associated with this event. I thought, and I am by no means an expert, that our Western diet is known to contribute to lifestyle related diseases and certainly obesity, which is a risk factor for breast cancer. So does it seem weird to you that they were serving donuts, bagels, ice cream, custard and birthday cake at 9 o'clock this morning? Next year, I plan to Sleep-In for the Cure -- by the time I registered this year, the Sleep-In pillowcases were all gone. Maybe those people have the right idea: avoiding temptation for a good cause.

Grief, Yoga and Irish Wakes, Part 2

Going to a yoga class after Anne Mullaney's wake reminded me that I had done so the day of my mother's funeral in 2009.  This is the reflection I wrote:

My M(OM)

Since beginning a yoga practice over a year ago, I stand taller, breathe more consciously, and have gained in strength, balance and flexibility.  Then in June 2009, my mom died and yoga gave me something much more – a place and a way to grieve.     

Dementia had invaded her mind.  When she spoke it was as if the keyboard that spelled out words in her head had shifted, and out of her mouth came unintelligible syllables in a language only she understood.  She also had diabetes, osteoporosis and arthritis and was confined to bed.   She could barely move. 

My brother and I were with her when she died, in the nursing home where she spent the last 17 months of her life.  I got a call at work that her condition had deteriorated, and within five minutes of arriving, she died.  My brother Frank and I touched her forehead, told her we loved her and kissed her.  She took several labored breaths and then …stopped.

My rote response, when someone would express their sympathy or support, was:  “That’s OK, my mom was sick for a long time”.   Or, “I said my goodbyes to my mom years ago”.   Tears did not come easily because frankly, I was relieved that her suffering was over.

On the day of my mom’s funeral, after everyone went their separate ways, I took a yoga class.  I could not think of any other constructive way to cope or anything I would rather do.  A pregnant woman, apparently taking her first class, was two mats away.  Kris, the instructor, was particularly solicitous in adjusting her postures and assured her that they could be different after the baby was born.  Something about my awareness of her full body and impending motherhood and the intensity of the day’s events became overwhelming. 

During final relaxation, tears trickled from the corners of my eyes and fell to the mat.   

I got into yoga to benefit my health.  At first it was primarily an interest in my physical health.  Then it became more about mental and spiritual health.  One of the more disconcerting (to me, anyway) aspects of yoga that is part of some classes is chanting ‘Om’; it feels too Hindu or Buddhist for my Catholic sensibilities.   

I don’t usually chant.  But that day, at the end of class, I did, three times…“Mom…Mom…Mom”. 

Grief, Yoga and Irish Wakes

After the last two funerals I have been to for someone significant to me, I did the only constructive thing I could thing of to do -- go to a yoga class.  Yesterday I learned what the term 'Irish Wake' means.  I left after five hours and it was still going strong.  It was everything I would have imagined -- beer, stories, laughter, tears, kids, old people, lots of good food, flowers and something unexpected, what appeared to be a professional photographer. The Mass was SRO, the eulogy superbly crafted and delivered -- what a send off.
Since I don't drink beer (yes, I was a friend of Anne Mullaney's and have never had a beer in my life), I started to eat -- lots.  One of the life experiences Anne and I shared was Weight Watchers and I imagine her making some witty yet pointed comment about how many points were in all that stuff I consumed while others were drinking beer.  I recall a few conversations with Anne about yoga, including a particular one about 'legs up the wall' pose and also about our on again, off again relationship with Weight Watchers points. 
Anne's obituary requested memorial contributions to two of her favorite charities (and yes, that school Anne wanted to build in Haiti will be built); many people and organizations sent flowers also.  How many people get flowers from Guinness at their funerals? 
The photograph above is one of the most beautiful arrangements I have ever seen (free plug for Toadflax in Shadyside). 
Anyway, back to yoga.  The evening of my mom's funeral in 2009, I went to a yoga class because I had nothing else to do.  The Irish have it all over the Italians in that respect since they apparently surround the family with activity and love in a marathon-like experience, making the need to find something to do the evening of the funeral a non-issue. 
In 2009, I wrote a reflection on that yoga class that I will add to this post later if I can find it. 

New Easter Traditions

"I am the resurrection and the life".   Aren't those seven words what Easter's all about?  Not bonnets and buffets.  I did manage to eat, mind and move this Easter Sunday.  JB and I went to Mass at St. Mary's in Sharpsburg. (JB is the name I've decided to use when referring to my husband in this blog -- i.e. my Javier Bardem.)  The Church was beautifully decorated and full; the Mass was joyful.  After Mass, I took a quick 30-minute walk around the neighborhood with my neighbor. Then we went with friends Priscilla and Tom to the Westmoreland Museum of Art.  Priscilla was interested in a special landscape exhibit.  WMOA is lovely and small; it has a collection of local landscapes in addition to the special one Priscilla wanted to see. The painting pictured above by William Coventry Wall (1811-1886) is part of their permanent collection and is titled 'View Along the Allegheny Near Aspinwall, PA, 1867'.  The post next to the painting reads, "Painted from the outskirts of Sharpsburg, the view looks upriver toward what is today the town of Aspinwall.  Shown is a stretch of the Allegheny River with Six Mile Island as it looked in the 1860s.  Today the Highland Park Bridge and adjacent highway would obstruct much of this view."  Then we ate (at a buffet), but not too much.  I missed my kids since they are both in the middle of a college term and did not come home.  But having a holiday not be totally food centered was a welcome change. 

"I'm a dancer, I'm not a football player...I'm a dancer, I'm not a football player..

That phrase was reported by the Pittsburgh Post Gazette to be the self-talk of Hines Ward "to get in the right frame of mind to compete on Dancing With the Stars".  People at work are always talking about DWTS; until last night, I had never seen it. That man can dance! 
There has been a lot of local coverage about Hines Ward's participation, because well, this is Steeler nation and in the off season, we yearn for any newsworthy tidbits about players and the team.  Hines was in town last week on Steeler-related business and it was also reported that he was practicing his routine at the Steelers South Side facility so he did not miss a beat on his preparation schedule. He apparently charts out his dance steps on paper so he can study just like he would a football playbook.
This is the mind and work ethic of a champion.
Some people think that the concept of self-talk is "meaningless psychobabble"; you know who you are.  Well, if it's good enough for world champion, MVP, DWTS phenom Hines Ward, it's good enough for me!

Connecting the Dots at Canyon Ranch

Clare just drove off to return to Boston; Spring Break is officially over.  Four days, 11 lectures, nine exercise sessions, four consults (naturopathic doctor, diabetes educator, nutritionist and exercise physiologist) and three cooking classes (the last one just about an hour from now) -- this constitutes the educational portion -- there will be more later on the eating part, particularly portion size -- of my Canyon Ranch experience.  And, off the program, I asked to meet with the Human Resources Director here to see what I could learn about how they recruit, train, feed, promote wellness and reward their employees.  I am well aware that most people could not do this experience and I am grateful (one of the lectures was on gratitude) to be able to do it, share it with Clare, and develop an even better plan to put flesh on the bones of my initial plan to Eat, Mind and Move. 

Don't you love stories?  This is from the lecture on 'Taking It Home'. 

Tapping Story
"Ever heard the story of the giant ship engine that failed?  The ship's owners tried one expert after another, but none of them could figure out how to fix the engine.  Then they brought in an old man who had been fixing ships since he was a youngster.  He carried a large bag of tools with him and when he arrived, he immediately went to work.  He inspected the engine very carefully, top to bottom. 

Two of the ship's owners were there, watching this man, hoping he would know what to do.  After looking things over, the old man reached into his bag and pulled out a small hammer.  He gently tapped something.  Instantly the engine lurched back to life.  He carefully put his hammer away.  The engine was fixed.  A week later, the owners received a bill from the old man for $10,000.  "What, the owners exclaimed, "he hardly did anything."   So they wrote back and asked for an itemized bill. 

The man sent a bill that read:  "Tapping with a hammer -- $2.00;  Knowing where to tap -- $9,998. 

Moral of the story?  Efforts are indeed important, but knowing where to make efforts in your life makes all the difference"