Big time fan of yoga. Usually I do heated flow or sculpting combined with yoga; more intensive classes, building muscle and endurance amidst flexibility. Today, though, I did a yoga that was all about surrendering. Surrendering to the moment, the sensations, the thoughts; and the breath associated was massage-like. Like the kind of waves of the ocean on a still sail day. I’m used to breath that builds heat; powerful, victorious breath, but sitting in this dark room with blankets and pillows around me, I found a lot more strength in surrender. Belly breathing babies.

With all the running I do, I have learned that your breath is the first to break, not your mind, not your body, your breath. Most of the energy is given to the air flowing and mixing and exiting your lungs. I can’t remember the last time I ran and had to stop because my legs were hurting, it’s always my lungs. Today, I ran and ran and ran until my lungs were screaming and I was spewing gunk, gasping and gaging on my own self. Looking around at the fresh leaves and sprouting buds on trees made me grow increasingly curious about oxygen: the source of energy. Breathing through your nose increases the heat of the body. Breathing through the mouth releases heat in the body. As well as increasing oxygen intake, breathing through the mouth while running requires less energy, decreasing tension in the mouth and jaw caused by nose breathing in running. Toxins are released more easily through breath from the mouth, simply due to the larger real estate and the simpler passage.

Breath is a lot of things. It is nourishment, survival (and not in the simplest sense), it is ease, strength, presence, and truth. While I was roadtripping the US, I hiked to the top of many mountains. Each hike blends together, becoming one giant mile, fog and trees, rock and rain, heat and sweat. When I was in New Mexico, I was on a trail lined with cairns. People had built them throughout the hike, most likely not entirely aware of the nature and product of a cairn. This hike was a boulder scramble, making the direction of these cairns incredibly difficult to understand. There was no mapping of the trail other than this. I got lost. This isn’t a giant surprise, if y’all know me, you know I’m not great with direction. I started thrashing through bushes to try and retrace my steps but the cairns were all out of alignment, everything and nothing looked the same. Eventually, I climbed to the top of a tree, cactus stickers stabbing every which way out of my legs, I could see my campsite down below, just had no way of reaching it. There are so many moments in my life where I wish I had wings, this was one of them. Instead, I closed my eyes and breathed. I made it down before dark, bloody and muddy, flowers and leaves in my hair, but really I didn’t care. Picturing I had wings and letting my breath become them allowed me to be safe.