Sunday morning wanderings

I usually go to Maggie's spinning class Sunday mornings at the Holyoke Y. It is quite a wake-up call and energizing and fun. But it did not happen today, so, for a total change of pace, I went to an alignment-based yoga class at the Hampshire Regional YMCA.

Sometimes people don't realize that most Y members have reciprocity at other locations. These two Y's have different personalities, each with something different to offer. I have their schedules side-by-side on my desktop. The people at the Holyoke Y know me better and have been wonderful and instrumental in helping me get back on my feet and stay there.

Whenever I have a new yoga teacher, that teacher sees that my left hand will not flatten out. As happened today, the teacher comes over and asks if I can undo my claw. Well, if I could, I would. I don't really say that; I just explain that I assume it is arthritis, which I think I also have in my wrists, because I cannot make a 90-degree angle between my hands and my wrists. It probably hurts my down dog because I don't have a good foundation. This teacher suggested, as others have done, to roll up my yoga mat at the front for more support. Also, she brought me over a chair when she saw that I had trouble balancing. I appreciated that.

I am thinking of going back at 4:30 for Pilates. Looking at the schedules, I realized that I could spend a whole day going back and forth between Y's, but then I wouldn't get anything else accomplished.

On my way home, I stopped at Breezy Acres and almost had a full lunch while Evelyn gave me samples of almost everything in her case. At one point I had four plastic forks in my hand. I came home with enough food for dinner...chicken soup, baked beans, antipasto and a new supply of my favorite apples, Macouns. I said I vowed to make some good soups this winter, but my soups always taste so bland and watery because I don't have a sense of what to add. I guess I could read a recipe.

Vanessa James, an old acquaintance who is a professor of theater at Mount Holyoke, was there, and the three of us talked about politics. Her son has an interesting job working for Joe Biden. We talked about whether or not Joe will run, and we agreed that after Hillary's performance in the #DemDebate, it seems increasingly unlikely.

When she closes for the winter, I'm going to miss going over there to our little community gathering place. I told this to Evelyn, who is always so cheerful, and she said not to worry, she's going to be open for quite a while longer. Also, there is always Tailgate Picnic.

My basketball career, then and now

Me shooting hoops with the guys in Washington, D.C., in 1978.

One of my high school friends took the above picture of me when we were visiting our friend Emily in Washington, D.C. in 1978.

We were sitting in a park when I saw some guys playing basketball. I went on over and as you can see, shot around for a while. It was fun and they didn't seem to mind.

As I told my kids many years later when we played in our driveway, I coulda been someone if anyone paid attention to girls' basketball back in the day. I was on our high school team, but Miss Benson didn't teach us anything. We had two guards who stayed on one side, two forwards on the other, and rovers, which I always wanted to be, who could cover the whole court. And instead of having uniforms like the boys did, we wore silly pinnies.

There was more caché in being a cheerleader. I practiced one summer for tryouts, a day during which one older girl came over and pressed down hard on my head to get me into a fuller split. I never did make it all the way. Emily and I were thrilled to get our red and white pom-poms and uniforms but soon realized that actually being cheerleaders was anticlimactic. We were told that we performed like dead dogs and kicked off after just a few games.

On the basketball court, I had a decent shot and ease in running around but never learned how to move. When I made it onto the team at Vassar, I mostly warmed the bench.

Still, I kept playing after college, joining a Northampton recreation league team when I moved to Western Massachusetts. When Steeplejacks – sponsored by a restaurant in Sunderland ( no longer there) – disbanded after infighting outweighed fun, I played in Northampton with friends after work at the Transscript-Telegram.

I also went to the Y with my friend Greg Pearson to play basketball with the guys. At home, we had some fun in our driveway, although my unorthodox shot – arms raised overhead instead of one hand guiding – drove Ben and Joe crazy. They promised to put an end to that when they got tall enough to block me, which is what happened.

Play ceased upon the demise of our basketball hoop, which was cemented into the ground. It went crooked after Jim softened it up by backing into it, then I finished the job by backing into it again.

Cut to the present. The scene: The Holyoke Y, again. A group of guys usually plays basketball in the gym before the fitness classes that I take. The other night, as they were getting ready to leave, an urge came over me to see if, after years, I could still shoot.

It's a good thing my kids weren't there because they would have been SO embarrassed. I walked over and asked if I could borrow a basketball to take a few shots.

Well, I could not get my feet off the ground. Each shot was perfectly aimed, and the ball sailed...right under the basket. Probably thinking, "Crazy lady," the owner of the ball took a few shots to demonstrate. No luck.

I returned the ball, which frankly was dead, and went across the gym to where another ball with more air was lying. After a few more tries, I finally made a shot. Victory!

I jogged back to where they were packing up and said, "Hey you didn't see it but I made the shot!"

One of the guys smiled and said he had.

Probably thought, crazy old lady.

But I was happy. After all the serious things I have been through, I can still be a goofball.

Snow day

For my very own New Year, I finally got around to giving up the cavernous Planet Fitness, where I hardly ever went, and switching to the Holyoke Y, where I hope to go more often to take advantage of the classes that are part of the membership fee. I'll probably swim also, but I have to wait for my lips to clear up because I think at this point the water would sting them.

I am having some luck with the steroid ointment that my dermatologist gave me, so there is some progress.

I was going to go to yoga tonight at the Y, but my exercise is consisting of walking from window to window watching the snow fall. I might do a little yoga or stretching on my own, but then again I might just make coffee, read and catch up on things.

Everyone is very friendly and helpful at the Y. The problem is the shortage of machines; there is ONE upright stationary bike, so I will have to go at off times to use it. Some of my Mount Holyoke friends take kick-boxing, and some of my book club friends do spinning, but at this point I would probably kill myself doing either of those.

Yesterday I had an interesting experience on the teaching front, meanwhile. The classroom teacher at the Literacy Project was outt, so I had to conduct the lesson instead of doing my usual small-group or one-on-one tutoring. It was kind of stressful but I made it through, gathering my wits afterwards with a scone and coffee at the Haymarket.