Pilates Revelation

Since my last half marathon (Moab) , I haven't run very often. I've done a handful of different exercises, like walking, and spinning classes, a few strength training classes, and pilates. Just enough exercising to qualify for the spring-into-fitness thing at work. This sporadic-running stretch has to do with two things: those dratted 49 seconds I missed my last goal by, and the fact that my husband can't understand my need to train for races.  He tries to be supportive but I know, deep down, he views 5ks and 10ks and even half marathons as wastes of money. He doesn't understand the fact that if I don't have a race to train for, I don't have any running motivation. After several arguments over this topic, I've just dropped it—the topic of running and running itself. I haven't been able to let go of feeling guilty for what feels to me like a character flaw: my inability to exercise just for the sake of exercising. I can't figure out if the fact that I need a race to motivate me is a failure on my part, or if it's just a personality quirk.

 

So, the spinning classes, and the walking, the strength classes and the pilates. I have mixed feelings over the Pilates class I go to now. The one I used to attend, at a different gym, was intense. Really, not even pilates, but weights with a pilates-esque philosophy. I always left that class exhausted and was always sore the next day. But my membership to that gym expired and I started going to our town's rec center instead. Their pilates class is closer to Joseph Pilate's original theories: control; precise movements; strengthening the core; developing flexibility; connecting the mind and the body. I get all of that from my current class, but I don't feel pushed enough. On Friday, rather than doing the exercises with us, the instructor walked around the room, correcting positions, giving encouragement. She started talking about an instructor training class she had attended and told how graceful and fluid the ballerinas' (who modeled the exercises) movements were, all the way down to their toes.

 

This started my mind down a trail of memories. Ballet class, first of all, which I used to go to in an old museum. Our classes were on the second floor, which had wall-high windows opposite the wall-high mirrors, and a real piano with a pianist playing the music. I haven't forgotten my pink ballet slippers, watching my mom measure the elastic for the arch and then sewing it on. Slipping my feet into them and then wishing they were the more beautiful toe shoes the older dancers wore. This made me remember dance recitals, the interminible, six-hour-long marathons of dancing. One year, when I was very young, I got to have a special part—I danced Thumbelina, in a pink dress with a white pinafore I still have in a box somewhere. The months leading up to the performance, we practiced our dances until they were perfect (as perfect, of course, as six-year-olds can make them). The point of dancing was progress: moving towards those pink satin toe shoes. But it was also the performances. Why else learn a dance, if not to show someone?

 

Maybe my favorite part of pilates is the stretching at the end, although it also leaves me a little bit frustrated—I always want to hold the stretches longer. As we stretched, I remembered how flexible I used to be. I can still almost do the splits, and I can still fold down pretty well into a pike stretch, but I can't do the straddles anymore and my shoulder flexibility is horrible. At gymnastics, flexibility was almost as important as strength. We'd spend 45 minutes stretching before we started working out. Then we'd move into rotations, 45 minutes on each event.

 

Training as a gymnast wasn't only about random progress, either.  I didn't work so many hours to finally swing giants just so I could tell someone I could swing giants—I did it so I could improve my routine and get better scores in my meets. I didn't work out 4-6 hours a day so I could have a strong body (although that was one of the results) but so I could have strong routines—and perform well at meets. I pushed because I didn't like being the gymnast who placed tenth or twelfth. I liked the meets I won.

 

Of course, I also did gymnastics because I loved it—loved having the ability to fly, if only for a moment. Bars was my favorite event and I still, more than twenty years later, wake from dreams of swinging through my bar routine. But the sheer love of finally mastering a trick, of being able to land a full twist or perfect my switch leap or finally catch a release move, wasn't the only thing that kept me coming back to the gym in the face of the obstacles that could have (and eventually did) keep me away. It was training for the event itself, whatever meet was coming up next, even if it was another eight months away.

 

"Straighten your legs and flex your toes," the pilates instructor said. "But when I do that," one of the other students said, "my heels don't stay on the ground." Another student laughed. "That's what they want gymnasts' legs to do. Maybe you should do a floor routine instead." The class laughed, even me, but what I really wanted to do was stand up and do a cartwheel. (I still can, you know.) When that student said "gymnast," all my memories and thoughts tumbled into place. The weight of feeling guilty for needing a race to motivate me to run lifted. Of course I need a race—I grew up with the idea of pushing myself and preparing for a "race," only then it was a dance recital or a gymnastics meet. I've always had an event to work toward, and running races is, simply, the only meet I am able to train for anymore.

 

I'm not sure I'll be able to keep the guilt at bay. (If there were an Olympic event for feeling guilt, especially the carrying-around-the-unnecessary type, I would win gold.) I cannot say my little pilates-led epiphany won't be drowned by my critical inner voice reminding me I'm selfish or lazy for needing a race. I might never run a race again. But I do know this: there, in the pilates class, stretching forward to touch my (flexed!) toes, I felt overcome with joy. I felt my old, strong gymnast self still within me, giving me permission to run anyway, to race, to be strong and to never give up.

Comments

[becky]

We all need motivators. I have run for the past 5 years with absolutely no goal in mind and I told myself I was doing fine. Keep in mind that I still run a 10 minute mile. Who cares about a 10 minute mile? It's always been good enough. But now that I have 2 races in my very near future, I can sustain running at a 8:34 for a few minutes. I have never been able to do that.

My point is: running for running's sake only gets you so far. A goal at the end gets you a lot farther. So leave the guilt at home and go run and get ready for the next meet. Because without that drive, you really are just running in circles. :)

[Candace]

I hate to add to your guilt, and yes, I know I am being selfish, but I NEED an excersize partner. I need someone who will go with me. I can not stress to you how much I would love, Love, LOVE to go to the Rec. with you. I will even wake up at the butt crack of dawn to go with you.

I want so badly to loose weight and to be fit enought to run even a 5K! Please, PLEASE help me train! I am not motivated be myself.

Oh and yeah I get the whole inner voice thing. I think I make myself feel guilty more then anyone else ever could. In fact I feel extreemly guilty for even writing this on here... but I guess my own selfishness is winning out!

[Cheap Jordans]

Seeing the blog should leave some comments, I think that is a polite to blog host, and thank you for sharing!

[Wendy]

I'm just wondering (and I may be wrong) if perhaps your husband is a tad bit jealous of your running. There are loads of people who require a larger goal to keep them motivated to take the small steps. But sometimes watching someone else take small steps moving toward a larger goal can make a partner feel envious of your progress or guilty for their own lack of goals.

[Zoe]

Amy,

Thank you for such an insightful and honest post. I took a class of yours with BPS a few years ago and it helped me immensley in reconnecting with my inner voice (the good one) and its so refreshing to see again that I am not alone in facing the daily struggle with guilt and being unsure about feelings of essentially being selfish, even though we all logically know that self care is first and foremost the thing we need to do in order to be capable of helping others. I applaud your courage to be totally honest and raw about who you are and what you think and feel, and once again you have inspired and invoked in me the courage to do the same.
Wishing you all the success you deserve - don't allow anyone tell you its not ok to want to win (not even yourself) its who you are. Stand tall be proud and pioneer your own perfect possibilities.

Zoe Goode
'Pioneering the 'Goode' life with Passion, Purpose & Possibility

Chi'nuru Coaching
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