Buckle up, buttercups. I’m dipping my toes into the whoo-whoo waters. Repeat this sentence: It’s time to let go of who we used to be and embrace who we are.
I’ve heard the following multiple times in the last few weeks from new clients and regular clients: I used to be in shape. I used to be able to do this. When I was young, I could do any pose I wanted. My body is too old and worn out.
Shut. The. Fuck. Up.
Let’s reframe our thinking. Just because you could do something when you were young doesn’t mean you should have. For example, I could rage until the wee morning hours and drag my body to wherever the next morning and still function to capacity. Does that mean it was good for me? Hell no. It merely means I didn’t know any better.
Okay, I did, but I was young and ‘invincible.’
I used to do all of the bullshit yoga I see being taught all over. Wait, I’m lying. I had already torn my knee up so I could do MOST of the stupidly damaging yoga I see being taught all over. My younger body could take it. My smarter body, not so much.
Yes, I said smarter. Growing older ain’t for the weak at heart. We have to remember to give our bodies the grace and respect they deserve.
Ninety-nine percent of us are not as flexible as we think we are supposed to be.
We have these insane expectations that our bodies will work the way they did when we were young. They won’t. The healthier outlook is to acknowledge what we can do and start those baby steps.
This is especially true of yoga. The uglier truth is most yoga classes won’t support this process. New clients apologize to me all of the time. It goes a little like this, “I haven’t done yoga in a long time, and I can’t do downward facing dog.”
1. If we’re in Beginning Yoga or Evening Yoga, it’s unlikely we will spend any time on downward facing dog UNLESS we’re learning how to do it safely.
2. Why does that have to be the benchmark?
I have a lot of clients who modify DFD no matter what and THAT’S OKAY.
I quit running after I broke my ankle, two surgeries, six inches of stainless steel, twelve screws all created a system that would not support my desire to run. I only have two screws left (no comments from the clown car, please) and I thought, “What the hell?”
I like running. Okay, it’s more like plodding, but I like it. My dog, Ascha, loves it too (the other two would rather walk through the sprinkler than run). We did about a mile, and then I hit some mud, and the mud hit me back.
My knee is bruised. My wrist is killing me. I ruined a pair of pants and looked like a dork at the traffic circle. Meh. I might try again next week, but I’m going to give my body some time to provide me with feedback.
And if it doesn’t work for this body, no sweat. Heh heh.