My Toolkit Part 1: Why I am obsessed with Range
Finding a movement practice that speaks to you
Some of my earliest memories are of my mom exercising in our living room in Jacksonville, NC. She is an avid runner since high school, and would regularly run long distances during my childhood. Somewhere I have a little keychain commemorating a marathon we ran as a family across the bridge connecting Arapahoe to Oriental, NC a bridge maybe a mile or so long–I couldn’t have been more than four at the time. When she wasn’t running she would blast Nirvana, Pearl Jam, The Pixies (mind you, it was the early 90s), in leather ankle weights, performing crunches and leg lifts with laser focus while me and my sister did our best to distract her; also sometimes being little angels, pretending to be an assortment of animals on the Serengeti in our own imaginative worlds.
Being forced to exercise as a family left an impression on me. It made it part of everyday life from an early age, it was how we spent time together. Once I left for college I maintained some regular form of exercise. The mental health benefits of moving my body have always been paramount, a non-negotiable. If I am being honest with myself and with you, my motives were also mixed with my insecurities. Experiencing a perfect collision of prepubescence in the heyday of performers like Aaliyah, Kira Nightly, Britney Spears, JENNIFER LOPEZ combined with the early aughts fashion trends of low-rise jeans and crop top halters, I was destined for self loathing and chasing an unachievable six-pack.
The way I approached moving my body back then was rigid and sanctimonious. It was my penance for drinking too much or finishing a jar of Talenti in one sitting. Also true, it was how I blew off steam before exams, busy work schedules, combatting aches and stiffness after traveling. For better or worse, it was hardly ever a choice I made with intention–I wasn’t choosing a practice that reflected my energy or my mood. It was rarely for FUN. It was something to cross off my list, even if it meant skipping breakfast, drinking coffee to get me through it, leaving myself depleted after. It couldn’t have helped my case of POI and now that I have transitioned into barely-there ovaries my body cannot handle that way of life anymore. My energy levels more often then not gravitate towards low, and I have learned that what I force today will put me in the negative tomorrow. This is why I am an absolute freak for Kara Duvall and her movement platform, Range.
Kara is a sanguine delineation, overcoming the hurdles mentioned above, encompassing what sometimes compels us to move our bodies. A former ballet dancer turned pilates instructor turned something completely different from anything I have ever followed, she has worked hard to confront her own demons in the form of body image, physical injury, and chronic health conditions. Range has come to embody her own cycles of energies, providing users with a comprehensive catalog with a class for just about any scenario; think restorative versus strength training versus cardio, but thoughtfully packaged in themes reflecting the seasons of our lives as well as the actual seasons.
The amount of times I have performed a series of movements into my memory and body from Range only to do it later while putting away groceries or reaching for a toy that has fallen under the couch is sorcery. Range reflects real life because Kara’s perspective of what “exercise” is, is organic–it leaves room for life, it welcomes the asymmetry and human qualities of these heavenly bodies we wander this earth in. Kara is vulnerable and transparent, always inviting the user into what inspires her choreography.
Speaking for myself, it is easy to incorporate Range as my movement practice because I am using my brain and body in playful, hard ways that force me to be present, to identify sensations and actively think about different parts of my body, breathing conscientiously. It requires humility–inviting me to be honest with myself, in my living room, opting for the movement variation that I can commit to without “borrowing from other parts of my body”, a term Kara often uses when encouraging the user to check in with themself. It’s a practice that requires constant check-ins and that is crucial for me.
The act of pausing and inviting curiosity about the way I am parenting, the way I am feeling in real time, trying to get to the bottom of what I want at whatever moment is easier to touch on because I practice it in a very real way, three to four times a week via Range. The cherry on top, my child also bears witness to her mom jumping around the living room, attempting to move with her extra thirty pounds wrapped around my waist, crawling underneath while I am on hands and knees.
Other things I am a freak for currently:
Homemade pops! Me and A have been enjoying them on our porch after school pick-up, experimenting mainly with watermelon mint variations. She loves to pick the mint and tear it into tiny pieces.
Sungolds, the candy of vegetables. I like cutting them in half and salting to bring out their flavor, or roasting them with garlic, salt and lots of olive oil before mixing with whatever veg I have lying around, fresh herbs, and lemon. This Smitten Kitchen was the original inspo.
Luke Temple’s new album, Certain Limitations. Pinky promise, everything this man touches is gold to my ears. His old band Here We Go Magic’s Pigeons was the soundtrack to my last summer in college and beyond, his solo projects also do not disappoint. His other solo work under the alias Art Feynman released a banger last November, Be Good The Crazy Boys. I really wish he would tour and come anywhere near Baltimore so I could let these tunes wash over me in real life <3
Portrait of Luke Temple by Aubrey Trin
