© Catherine Haslag
© Catherine HaslagYoga
There was a new person next to me in yoga class today. Young, about 25, flat stomach, and curves where they should be. Her seemingly perfect, young body makes me very aware of my own.
As I bend into forward fold, I am aware of my ankles. They are my mother’s ankles when she was forty. I don’t remember asking her for them. I prefer she’d kept them.
I become keenly aware as I step back into downward dog that I am not as flexible as I was when I was 30. Did my hamstrings get shorter?
Child’s pose is awkward. COVID weight gain has put my stomach in my way. I have to open my legs wider to let the extra me fall between them.
In high lunge, I stare up at my arms. They are soft. I remember that my arms continue waving after my hand stops. A bonus wave that I wish didn’t exist.
In forward standing A, I get a good look between my legs. My thighs are good buddies now when I walk. They press and rub together. They don’t seem to understand social distancing.
I realize my t-shirt keeps riding up on me when I bend over. I make a mental note to order some long-tail shirts from Duluth Trading Company. I must guard against plumber’s butt.
Forward low lunge requires an extra blanket under my knees so it doesn’t hurt. My hips resist the stretch.
Fierce pose makes my quads burn. They are far from ready for the long days cycling at RAGBRAI coming this July. I am reminded that I need to start training.
Balance poses make me feel strong and competent again. Tree, Eagle, Warrior 3. I flow in and out of them with confidence. Steady. Strong. Focused.
I am sure no one notices my inner turmoil. Everyone in the class is focused on their own, but in my mind, everyone sees my rolls and imperfections. My limitations and gracelessness. All the extra me I wish wasn’t. I feel like I don’t belong here.
But, I do belong here.
This is temporary.
All of it is temporary.
The tight hamstrings, the bonus wave, my mom’s ankles. They will all change. The extra me will melt away as I bike this summer. My hamstrings will elongate and feel less tight. My hips will open to lunges. The fire in my quads will calm. This is where I am now, but not who I am. The day will come when I may not be able to do yoga at all. When I may not be able to bike long distances or even walk short ones.
So I smile at the resistance in my hips, the extra me that rubs when I walk, and the strength in my tree pose. These too are temporary. I will embrace them for the time they are with me.
© Catherine Haslag8-8:30
It’s unseasonably hot for this early in June. Already in the low 90s and it’s just the first week of June. Summer came early this year in Minnesota.
By 9am it is 78 degrees and sunny. The humidity isn’t high and the breeze makes it bearable. I made a vow last night to ride today. I prepped my water bottles and riding clothes last night to make it easier to get going. My attempt to lower the activation energy for this endeavor. I eat breakfast, journal, put on my clothes, and hit the trail. My goal is to start between 8 and 8:30a. This way, I can be home before it starts getting too hot. I mount my bike at 8:24a.
The heat is a serious demotivator for me. I grew up in Missouri along 2 rivers, so I am used to the heat and humidity, but it’s harder for me to tolerate this summer. I don’t know if it’s turning 40 or being the most overweight I have ever been…or both. I long for the Minnesota Junes where the daily high didn’t often top 85 Fahrenheit. Temperatures in the upper 60s to 80 is my sweet spot.
View from behind the handlebars.
I decide I will ride for about an hour and see how far that gets me. Starting is the hardest part. I feel strong in the saddle. Despite not riding on my trainer regularly this winter, my legs quickly hit a good cadence. The air on my skin feels luxurious as I roll through neighborhood streets to the paved trails. Under the interstate, through Todd Park, and around Eastside Lake. I glide through town, passing many walkers and cyclists along the way. They have the same idea – exercise before the heat of the day.
I was hesitant to ride in the morning. I usually get up and work in the morning and then play later in the day. I am a “work first, play later” kind of person. Riding in the morning feels like the opposite of that, but I quickly realize that my body is awake enough to ride and my mind enjoys the quiet before the work of the day. It’s just me, my bike, and the pavement. My mind wonders as I cruise. As my heart rate rises, it feels like my arteries and veins are being flushed, the stagnant areas refreshed. I feel renewed for the day…and very sweaty.
I arrive home 55 minutes and 11.5 miles later. Not bad for the first day. I stretch, hydrate, and cool myself in front of a fan before showering off the sweat and sunscreen. A successful start to the day.
My bike will rest against a shelf in the kitchen until tomorrow morning when we ride again at 8-8:30a.
The Confessional Podcast Review
I am a podcast addict. History, current events, personal growth, science – I listen to more podcasts than is probably healthy for a person. Some of my favorite podcasts involve people sharing stories about their lives. The types of deep, open conversations that would make most people uncomfortable. That’s my jam. The podcast I highlight here creates a space for those types of conversations and intimacy.
This image is taken from Audible.com.
Nadia Bolz-Weber is a minister and founder of the House For All Sinners and Saints church in Denver, CO. She is the author of 3 books, a YouTube limited series called Have a Little Faith produced by Makers, and an outspoken advocate for the outcasts. She began The Confessional podcast in April 2020.
The Confessional is a place for people to share things they have done they are not proud of. We all have done things we aren’t proud of, so the conversations had here are for all of us. The conversations in the podcast are frank, intimate, and use adult language. I get a big kick out of hearing an ordained minister use the F-word. If you don’t like coarse language, then this podcast may not be for you. The use of adult language only makes me enjoy this podcast more because the focus is on accepting and embracing our humanness, not about being “perfect” or conforming to what some religion thinks is appropriate behavior. Bolz-Weber focuses on honoring all our parts, not just the shiny clean pieces. She wants to have read discussions about all parts of the human experience.
Bolz-Weber offers the guest a prayer at the end of each episode. She emphasizes that while the prayer may be specifically written for her guest, it could be for any one of her listeners. She offers absolution not just to her guest, but to all of us. Her confessional encompasses all of us. Her grace, compassion, and love envelopes all who listen to the conversation.
The thing I love the most about this podcast is it shares stories of real humans in an authentically compassionate way. Bolz-Weber creates a space for her guests to share their biggest secrets and shames in life in a real, compassionate space. By providing a place for her guest to share their story, Bolz-Weber creates a space for all of our stories to be told, examined, and accepted. Being human is messy. We mess up. We do things we are not proud to admit. Bolz-Weber allows us to accept the flaws of our humanness, embrace our screw-ups, learn from them, and do better in the future. She practices the kind of compassion that Jesus taught. While I am not a Christian, I still believe Jesus was a good person and taught us how to love each other. Bolz-Weber is a walking example of the behavior of Jesus. Listening to these stories reminds me that while I am not perfect, there is always the opportunity to do better in the next moment.
Until we have examined our dark secrets, shames, and mistakes and accepted that we are fallible and imperfect humans, we are unable to embrace who we are and the journey we are undertaking on this planet. Until we can reconcile our undesirable pieces, we can’t grow into the person we wish to be. Bolz-Weber opens the door for each of us to examine and accept those pieces of ourselves so that work can begin.
You can find The Confessional on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, Audible, or wherever you get your podcasts.
Some of my favorite episodes of The Confessional
Dr. Ray Christian, Storyteller and Fulbright Specialist
Forgiveness and Reconciliation with Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg
Kasey Anderson, Singer/Songwriter
Megan Phelps-Roper, Former Member of the Westboro Baptist Church
© Catherine Haslag
Montgomery’s
Montgomery’s Truck Stop (1587 North Glenstone Avenue) sat at the northwest corner of Division Street and Glenstone Avenue in Springfield, Missouri. A poorly maintained asphalt parking lot surrounded the light-colored brick building. Some friends and I visited this dingy hole-in-the-wall weekly for a while in college and spent hours “doing homework” and solving the problems […]
© Catherine Haslag
© Catherine Haslag
Floor Furnace
In the fall of 2009, I was in the middle of a divorce. My 4.5-year marriage had been failing for longer than it had worked. It became apparent to me that this relationship wasn’t what I needed. A friend of mine owned a small rental house that was empty. She lent me the key so I could have a place to go to get away from my soon-to-be-ex-husband and the house we owned while the legal system caught up with what my heart already knew – that the relationship was over.
This is very much like the floor furnace I describe in my blog. Unfortunately, I do not have a photo of that actual floor furnace to share. (image obtained from Pinterest)
This rental house, a small 2-bedroom, 1-bath bungalow, had a floor furnace in the dining room that heated the house. That floor furnace would become my touchstone over the next year.
It is where I sat when I called my mom and told her I was divorcing my husband.
It is where, wrapped in a blanket, I sat and cried about the loss of the life I had known and tried to figure out what I wanted to do next.
It is where I stood each winter morning in my robe to warm myself after I moved into the bungalow and finalized my divorce.
It is where I conducted many hours of conversations with my very patient girlfriends as they helped me navigate the emotional labor of ending a marriage and moving forward with my life.
Its creaks and clicks became the soundtrack of my life while I surveyed the world and planned my next steps as a single woman.
Like a light bulb to a new-born chick, it provided me with physical warmth during an emotionally trying and cold period in my life.
In January 2011, I left the floor furnace and moved out of that bungalow, headed on a northern migration. I had that furnace for just one year, but that was all I needed. I had developed a plan forward and it was time to move on, much like the chick that outgrows its need for warmth from the light bulb.
There are times when we will realize the smallest thing did so much for us – a moment of understanding silence, a book that touched us deeply, a hot cup of tea at just the right time. These are the simple things that make the hard times in life bearable. While things and moments are fleeting, their impact on us lasts a lifetime.
© Catherine Haslag