Movement, change, space.

Movement, change, space.

These three are what I like to describe as ‘space’ in my brain. Typically my brain feels like a red hot, tight, spinning vortex which does not feel good. Also, it is hard to think creatively or be vulnerable when my brain is wound up all hot and tight.

But movement? Change? These create space within my brain, a sense of widening… openness. Like a fresh breeze on a hot day. Like the gentle ruffling of linen curtains in the wind. There’s an expansiveness pushes back the forces that seek to make everything small.

And you know what is my favourite thing? Lifting weights. I’ve recently come back into it, I did it in high school but in a different way. I was looking to ‘tone’ so I would lift light weights multiple times. Like 25 reps. Now? Now I life heavy, and it is a juicy experience. I go to a gym that offers personal training in Victoria, and I love it. The owner, Sarah Jane is awesome. A fitness buff who has been in this world ever since she was old enough to move her body. And here, I lift heavy.

I am drawn to lifting heavy especially after having a kid. My birth experience sucked and at some point I hope to write about it to alleviate the pain. But long story short I ended up with an urgent c-section which made it hard to even sit upright in bed. But before? I was running, biking, and working on my yoga inversions. But after? I was crouch over in stiffness and pain, shuffling along my apartment bleeding and crying. Never again.

I think there is something deeply primordial about having your body not be able to do something that you wanted it to do. At least for me, due to having the privilege of a healthy active body literally my whole life. Anytime I requested something from it, it always responded. It was reliable. Strong. Gorgeous. And it created a whole other living person. But afterward? I absolutely never ever want to feel weak and incapable again. Never ever ever ever. 

5*5 strong lifts are my jam. It’s where you lift to the point of failure after five reps. Gone are my days of 20+ reps. I now fail at five. Deadlift, squat, and bench press. I also really like the leg press ( I can move serious weight) and for vanity purposes, hip thrusts. My goal here is to become incredibly strong… like f- you strong. So strong that I never experience fear or uncertainty in my body ever again. I also would not mind becoming ripped!

So, lift heavy. Do big compound movements. Because I am postpartum I’m trying to slowly reconstitute my body from flabby to muscle-y. and it’s going to take some time. But I know that each day is a choice, and after a rest day you bet your butt that you can find my in the gym. Strong is the new black.

Movement is life

Life is about the beat, it is about movement. Life probably started in the primordial soup with a burst of electricity and enough atoms present to start a cascade off that sets the earth apart from every other planet in our galaxy. Movement is life, to be still is to rot. Notice how the decaying organisms only began their work once movement has ceased.

Movement also beings joy, its gets rid of my body’s energy and gives me that oh-so-needed hit of dopamine. When I do a twist in yoga it feels like I’m wringing out my body, like a wet towel. Getting rid of the excess so I can return to my normal state. Bharadvajasana, that’s what it’s called. I love how the body is all contorted and it just feels so good.

I also love to dance, I grew up square dancing out west, but now I just do it from my own living room. I’ve had a thought about myself for a long time. When I was younger I had a dog, a lovely little black and white thing, but boy did she have energy. Especially when she was little. I needed to take her on a walk three times a day. It was a chore based in devotion to her, but as I got older I realized something. I also needed to have my energy depleted. I couldn’t stay still and when I started running I realized that I needed  more movement in my life, not less. At the time I was working outside mostly, but I would still have energy at the end of a day to run at leas 2.5 miles. Now, come to think of it, 2.5 miles was my warmup, it was only after those steps would my body settle into the movement. In those days I was averaging six mile runs, (9.6 kilometers for you Canadian folx). I loved that distance, long enough to get some serious feel-good hormones from the movement, but short enough that I wouldn’t injure myself.

But now I have moved away from movement like a fool. I don’t know what happened, because it use to take such a prominent position in my life. But as I’ve gotten older it’s harder to find the time to carve out time only for me. And my body is suffering from it. I now have issues with my rib popping out of place. It never used to do that. My flexibility is shot too.

But thankfully I’m enough of a contrarian, stubborn to a fault, that I know I can start moving again. I know it’s important. I know life feels better with more movement. I just got to get back in the saddle again.