SAYEH'S LITHE DIVING! 8 Apr 2011
This blog entry is meant to be read while jamming out to Salt-N-Pepa’s “Push It.”
(Ignore the sexual overtones; it really is relevant. Also, let’s say the heavy breathing in the song represents the Lithe breath.)
Dear Fellow Lithers,
The first week is over, and there’s so much to report! The food, the workouts--where do I begin?
This week...wait! Hang on a sec. Let me readjust my ponytail. Typing can get a bit vigorous, and I can’t have hair just falling willy-nilly into my face.
Okay, we’re good. So this week I took High Mini, Walk Star, Skinny Jeans, Thinny and tomorrow I’m taking...oh, hold on. Let me just take a quick sip of water.
Ahhhh. Refreshing. Tomorrow, I’m taking Cinch.
The classes have been rigorous, and the food has been incredible. Blissful Breakfast Quinoa is exactly what its name suggests, and...oh you know what? I should fill up my water bottle real quick in case I get thirsty again while I write this. Blogging makes me really parched.
OK, I apologize for all the interruptions. I know you’re patiently waiting to hear how delicious the Moroccan Body Stew tastes. How the sweet potatoes and carrots have subtly taken on the flavor of the tender apricots and floral ginger, and I’m over here Lithe Stalling.
What’s Lithe Stalling?
You know when you’re taking a class and you want to double over and clutch your chest after just 30 seconds of sprinting in High Mini? You look around in a panic, hoping to lock eyes with someone equally distressed, and are only met with serene faces seamlessly transitioning into the next series? Well this is when my ponytail, my water bottle, and something on my left big toe all of a sudden captivate and require my immediate attention. A quick readjustment of some kind gives me that split second to catch my breath without looking like a complete wuss.
Lithe Stalling. I’m a pro, but before I began this week, I told myself: no Lithe Stalling. It’s time to push it! No ponytails, no paper towels for sweat dabbing, no stopping to wipe all the spit my forceful breathing has projectiled onto the mirrors. Nothin. Just non-stop Lithe action.
How’d that work out for me? How do you think.
I took High Mini with Liz on Monday, and after 30 Burpies, all bets were off. I took so many sips of water in an effort to get a tiny break, that by the end my stomach was sloshing like the inside of a Slurpee machine. In Walk Star, I didn’t want to be bringing up the rear of the group, but my stubby legs (I’m 5’2” after an adjustment at the chiropractor) wouldn’t cooperate with me. Everyone was crossing the street while I was stuck at a red light huffing and puffing. I felt like a wiener dog struggling to keep up with her owner. Or maybe a Corgi. Corgis are the ones with short legs and big butts right?
To be clear, I’m not trying to cheat. Tif always tells us, You came all the way here. You might as well do the work. Don’t cheat yourself. And she’s absolutely right. I mean, she’s Tif. Even if she wasn’t, I would say she was because I’m scared of her.
The truth is, I’ve always been flummoxed by this idea of pushing myself. I look at marathon runners and Lithers that buy the Lithe Premium Monthly Unlimited pass* in awe. I wish I could be as motivated. I tell myself: Sayeh, you will get through this ENTIRE lunge series in stiletto. You know how often that pep talk works? I’ve done it exactly one time, on one leg. When it came time to do the other side, I was so tired that I had to keep my foot flat the entire time. If I kept that up, I’d be walking around the world with one super calf and the other one looking like I just got a cast removed.
*I must say I’m not sure Premium Monthly Unlimited Pass people exist. Clamoring to take two classes in a row on the same day? If that’s you, please say hi if you see me in the studio. Because right now, as far as I’m concerned, you’re like unicorns. I want to believe you exist, but also feel like you just really look like someone who takes a class right after you.
When I sat down to write this blog though, something happened. What should have been a simple movement--sitting--instead took five minutes and made my face contort in such pain, that I’m sure passersby thought I was in desperate need of Preparation H. Turns out, I am pushing myself. It wouldn’t hurt to move my pinkie over to the shift button if I wasn’t pushing myself.
So maybe I’m not like the girl in Thinny who didn’t Lithe Stall once. And maybe I’ll never be able to fold myself in half like Melissa, but that doesn’t mean I’m not pushing myself. Week 1 has made me realize that I need to stop looking around the room, and start listening to my own body. What I’ve accomplished this week is definitely pushing it, and if I need to adjust my ponytail or curse under my breath after a particularly grueling series, I’m going to give myself that room. I hope you will too.
See you in class,