
Because yesterday I learned
that the heart is a beautiful thing
and today I learned that
it is sometimes
not.
These photographs appeared in this week's issue of The New Scientist. Some sort of marsupial? Nope. It's a miraculous, accidental appearance of a human egg. While performing a hysterectomy, Dr. Jacques Donnez of Catholic University of Louvain, Brussels, managed to capture human ovulation on camera. Ovulation has been thought of as an event in which the egg sort of erupts from the ovary. Not so. The egg in these photographs took about fifteen minutes to be expelled. The findings and photographs will be published in the next issue of Fertility and Sterility.
I had a cardio conditioning class at the circus center two nights ago, and now I am hurting all over. A class taught by circus folk is very different than the traditional aerobic experience: think Jane Fonda at Burning Man + steroids and a heavy-duty stimulant (she was drug free, of course, she just had way more strength, energy and spirit than your average Betty). Needless to say, I almost expired.
My tissu teacher (who is great, by the way) has been trying to get me to keep a notebook so that I will remember the different wraps and drops. My take on this is that for chronicling what we've done week to week, this is a fine exercise, but for learning, it is an exercise in futility. As a former dancer I have pretty decent body awareness. I am aware that my body learns through repetition. The trouble is that at the circus center, other than during class, there is no way to practice because the silks are not hanging. I maintain that without this repetition, I will make slow gains and will, likely, need to be reminded of where my feet, hands, butt should go. But this argument was putting me at odds with my instructor, so I conceded and whipped out the handy dandy moleskine, with a mental note to check up on this one. I recalled a piece I had seen in the NYT last year about a professional dancer who had a very detailed explanation of learning by watching and repeating movement, something which is quite natural for me - and imperative - in physical activity, even though I am much more of an auditory learner, generally.
This single point trapeze has got me thinking about balance. After the first round, which was a solo lesson lasting about an hour, I felt pretty good. My instructor, mightily prepared with water, ginger, smelling salts and a bucket (just kidding about the last two), was very conscientious about checking up on my dizziness every few minutes: “How are you doing? Do you need some ginger? Drink some water.” And I was really fine. Until… I finished the class and made it all the way to work when I realized I felt exceedingly tired, had trouble focusing, was walking very slowly, methodically placing one foot in front of the other. I imagine I looked drunk, which is not the best way to appear at work. When I made it to my office, I sat at my desk, both feet placed firmly on the floor. With hands flat on my desk I stared straight ahead for about an hour. Then, quite suddenly, it passed. Now, how to combat the dizziness. This guy calls dizziness his idea of “absolute hell”. I wouldn’t go that far, obviously, or I wouldn’t be on the trapeze. But dizziness can be a real drag. So his remedies seem quite useful. Recommendations include: move slowly and find a focal point, stay hydrated, practice deliberate movement (walk a straight line), build focal strength (do exercises like following moving objects with your eyes). His final solution? Avoid dizziness-inducing activities. Heck no!