Getting My Bounce Back. Carolee Belkin Walker
I did two long road trips last weekend, and for at least three hours I had Adin in the car with me while I was driving him back to school. We talked about music for a good chunk of the time. Both he and Mia have always been up on the latest music trends, but Adin in particular, both because he has been a dancer/choreographer since he was in middle school and because he has a knack for discovering music that is especially right for movement, so that’s why I get a lot of ideas from him. This time, he turned me on to “Comme Un Enfant” from the French band Yelle’s album Safari Disco Club. He’s still confounded by my lack of enthusiasm for Beyoncé, even if I’m president of the Jay Z fan club.
“She’s all about empowering women, Mom, you should love her.”
“I’ve got endorphins, honey. I’d be lethal if I had any more empowerment.”
Day 23, April 21, 2014
“Everybody’s looking for something”
—Eurythmics, “Sweet Dreams”
A Motown classic washed over the final scene of August Wilson’s Two Trains Running, which I saw at Round House Theatre in Bethesda. But after three hours of so much dialogue, I almost expected to hear Vangelis’ “Chariots of Fire” as the actors took their well-deserved bows. The story is set in Pittsburgh’s Hill District overlooking downtown Pittsburgh at the end of the Hill’s heyday in 1969 Everything on stage happens in a diner owned by Memphis, the play’s central character, but it was Risa who had caught my attention.
Lord Baltimore and I went to the play with my good friend Mimi Kress and her husband, photographer Michael Kress. Mimi works as many long hours as any woman I know, but there she is nearly every morning, at the gym by 6:00 a.m. She’s got that je ne sais quoi that I’ve started to recognize in women of my age who have figured out what works for them. During intermission, Mimi and I realized Lord Baltimore and Michael had not noticed the deep scars deforming Risa’s legs when she had crossed the stage as the diner’s waitress.
How could they miss that?
This was the first thing Mimi and I noticed when we met Risa, a gorgeous woman—beautifully played at Round House by Shannon Dorsey—who had used a blade to cut her legs as a girl to avoid the unwanted attention of men. There was some backstory here that Wilson didn’t get into, but we got the point that the males in Risa’s life were all about asking her for something, especially Memphis, her boss.
So, when the likable Sterling finally comes out with it and lets Risa know how he feels about her—despite her “ugly” legs—Risa gives herself a little push and confronts her own desires. It’s a poignant moment in the play—if underplayed in the Round House version—and although Wilson doesn’t typically write a lot of female characters, he got this one right. I found it interesting that the two males we were with in the audience never saw the scars until Sterling mentioned them. In that way, Lord Baltimore and Michael were kind of like Sterling, who looked at Risa’s legs but never paid them any attention. Even as I am determined to lose weight and sport sleeveless blouses with First Lady ease, I am still marveling at how much I am responsible not only for my own self-image but also for the image others have of me.
On the way home from dinner in Baltimore last night, I listened to Muddy Waters’s soulful “Still a Fool,” which is where the title of the play comes from, and I thought about the word “journey” and how often this word as a concept is simply inadequate.
There’s two trains running
Well ain’t nary one—ho!—going my way
***
I feel so much better about everything. I’m not only pulling myself up into a side plank, I am holding a side plank, even on my right side. I’ve been practicing yoga for several years, yet I’ve always been bothered by how difficult the down dog position is for me because of the weakness in my right wrist, which I broke years ago. To use Adorable’s word, holding up my core with my right arm is nothing short of epic.
A side effect is that I am also starting to feel impatient for a ripped abdomen, even though I’m a long way off—if ever—from anything even close to that. I’m almost a little embarrassed to admit this.
I’ve changed my attitudes about fitness and daydream about being fit.
And smokin’.
2-hour workouts Saturday and Sunday morning (1 hour cardio / 3 miles total / 2 miles at 4.2 MPH (!) / 6 minutes on the arm bike maintaining 70 RPM / 1 hour on the mat and cool arm and leg stretches Adorable showed me)
Sunshine – Rye Rye
Don’t Stop the Party – Pitbull
Quiet Dog – Mos Def
Comme Un Enfant – Yelle
212 – Azealia Banks
Pump It – Black Eyed Peas
After Party – Keith Milgaten/ Keith Stanfield
Right Round – Flo Rida (My happy place.)
Envy – 116
m.A.A.d city – Kendrick Lamar
In da Club – 50 Cent
Don’t Matter – Akon
Land – Patti Smith
Sweet Dreams – Eurythmics (I like the remix.)
Everyone’s the Same – Alice Anna (My sister-in-law Lindsey’s husband, Scott Smith, played guitar in this Baltimore band.)
Happy – Pharrell Williams
Lovers’ Eyes – Mumford and Sons
Day 25, April 23, 2014
“I am the luckiest.”
—Ben Folds, “The Luckiest”
Last week the New York Times ran a story about gyms using personal fitness devices to track clients’ activity. Basically, clients buy some sort of wearable activity tracker that allows their trainer to monitor their every move. So, for example, if I told Adorable that this morning I ran 2 miles at 4.2 MPH, Adorable could either say he already knew that or that it was more like 1.5 miles, because he’s got my activity data on his phone.
When I asked Adorable about this, he didn’t seem all that engaged one way or the other.
I think that’s because he knew he probably wouldn’t need an electronic device to monitor his clients’ data. I push myself simply by knowing he’s in the building when I’m running on the treadmill. I’m sure I’d be walking up and down nine flights of stairs to get to and from my office if I knew he was carrying my physical activity data in his pocket.
I want to take back the comment I made earlier about motivation. Adorable had told me that many clients (not only his) rely on their trainers to motivate them (think drill sergeant). I had considered that idea but concluded I am the only person who can motivate me.
Not.
Obviously, I am motivated to get results, but I do not (yet) have the ability to push myself to get there. I’ve completely crossed over and bought in to the whole trainer vibe. I need this. I need to be pushed. Someone with skill needs to tell me how high and how long and how far. It’s not in my nature to go much beyond what my brain signals is safe.
And I don’t get that endorphin rush unless I push myself harder than I thought possible. It’s the sprinting, going harder and longer at whatever, that gives me the happy pill.
I need this.
***
A few weeks ago, Adorable had me do repetitions on the horrible back extension machine, and then immediately “flex” my stomach on the machine next to it without a break. He calls that a “super set,” and I’ve tried