Sports specificity

Tuesday mornings are practice with The Cop. As per usual, we just proceed. I make, at most, two statements about form per practice session. This morning was the elbow/wrist form for chaturanga (he tends to have issues with his wrists, and I wanted to head that off at the pass), and an “inhale UP and exhale BACK” for jumpbacks. Beyond that, he just followed along. I could hear some ragged breathing, but he persisted. At the end, he mentioned that he felt tired, probably from all the mountain biking he’s been doing since he bought a new bike last week.

It’s hard to do Ashtanga once a week–harder than doing it six times a week. At least I can build some efficiencies in my practice. The Cop, on the other hand, is basically just starting over and over and over every time. I thought about how I’d fare on my mountain bike these days. I’m figuring I’d be sucking wind at about the ten minute mark.

The Cop wants me to ride with him, but I am averse to crashing. I guess because of climbing days, I only like to fall when I am tied in to a rope. Plus, desert crashes are entirely different from a nice grassy single-track crash. Desert crashes involve rocks and cacti. If you’re lucky, maybe you just hit gravel. Plus, I am a huge baby about my hamstrings. I’m kind of ashamed, truth be told: “Oh, I can’t do things like that! It’ll tighten my hamstrings.” Sigh. I’ve turned into that kind of person?

We used to go to the gym almost every night and lift and do cardio together. **Mushy love-moment memory** Then I got crazy into Ashtanga and he returned to martial arts and biking. I was tempted to go to martial arts with him, but then that seemed kind of weird. So here we are, trying to find a way to share some activities, but both pretty involved in what seem like mutually exclusive pursuits. Not to say I can’t bike with him, just that I don’t want to bike with him enough to tighten my hamstrings. Much like he practices with me on Tuesdays, but does not want to expend too much energy on yoga, because it makes more sense, in a sports-specific universe, to practice his biking. So I’ll go biking occasionally, and he’ll practice with me occasionally. And I will always be starting over with biking and he’ll always be starting over with yoga.

I can fall over on beginner terrain and he can swear during bakasana.

Love. Sigh.

It’s a bitch 😉


3 Responses

  1. We’ve got the same deal going. She’s a runner & does some weights; I’d rather stick to the mat, thank you.

    Maybe if you smacked The Cop a few times during practice, he might grow to love it more than martial arts?

  2. It’s a riot you say that, because this morning as we got on our mats he took a couple of swipes at me, then suddenly picked me up as if to throw me onto my back. I had to yell, “Samastithi! Samastithi!” to restore order.

    Now he probably thinks that “samastithi” means “I surrender” in Sanskrit 😉

  3. sheesh. my husband thinks of yoga as a spectator sport – best appreciated from the sidelines with a lawn chair and cooler full of beer.

    funny about the tight hamstrings thing. i ran a couple of weeks ago and decided to knock out a few crunches on the exercise ball.

    two days later, yoga practice was still lousy because of the wrecked, “crunched” abs. that’ll teach me.

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