May 6, 2024
Greetings from the stick man,
Most people would not describe me as ‘limber’, other than perhaps the obscure definition of ‘…one who removes limbs’. But flexible, I am not. Well, I am in some ways, like whatever you want on the pizza is fine with me. Maybe not anchovies. Or onions. Or black olives. Maybe I’ll just order my own.
Ok, I’m not flexible.
Like most runners, I tell people that I stretch after I run, but that’s a little misleading. What I do instead is take a shower and a nap. So, I stretch out on the couch, so to speak. I suspect that most runners lie about stretching, but there’s so much pressure when you are asked the question. It’s like someone asking you if you love babies. I mean, I do, but seriously, not all the time.
I’ve been running long distances for about a thousand years so every once in a while, when I get up off the couch, I feel like my legs are filled with concrete. And broken glass. Recently I started making a noise when I go down stairs, or get up from a chair, or get out of my car. Or reach for something. At first it was so annoying I thought it had to be someone else, but I finally figured out it’s me. It’s not a grunt, it’s more of a desperate gasping noise, as if my body is sending an involuntary distress signal.
Last week I was getting a massage, thinking that would solve my problems without me actually doing anything, and the masseuse asked if I stretched. I said, “Yes but it’s kind of like flossing - I think of it when it’s too late.” She told me it was too late.
So I decided to revisit yoga. I say ‘revisit’ so it sounds like I’ve done it before, which technically I have, but only long enough to be humiliated and then went back to my rigid ways. I own a yoga mat, which I’ve learned is comfortable enough to nap on. I don’t own yoga pants or a yoga hat, if you are wondering.
For now, I take my yoga instructions from people on YouTube, who can’t see me and judge me and aren’t always correcting my form, saying things like “A little less napping, perhaps a little more stretching.” I can only take so much criticism.
Yoga instructors say things like “Celebrate your body” which I am already pretty good at, although it usually involves a cold IPA. None of the instructors have included beer in their routines, but I keep searching. There’s a lot of gentle encouragement, which I like, even when I don’t earn it. I don’t think it’s wrong because I don’t feel any shame about that.
I have been making progress with the various poses. I learned that I need to avoid any pose that includes lying flat on the mat with my eyes closed, for example. I like Downward Facing Dog, and I can’t help it, but every time I do this pose I look through my legs expecting to see a dog, which makes me laugh. And fart. Which also makes me laugh. Yoga can be fun.
I do get a little impatient with the waiting. You know all that breathing and intentions and focus. Sometimes my mind wanders and I forget I’m supposed to be in Child’s Pose and I realize I’m looking in the refrigerator. Like that.
Occasionally when I’m directed to do some origami pose I don’t like, I’ll do something else, maybe Get the Mail Pose or Cross My Fingers pose. But I can still say I’m doing yoga. I’m kind of a Pose Poser.
I’ve learned that in addition to being universally stiff, I also lack balance. I realize as I write that out, it sounds like I have a serious philosophical challenge too. But what I was referring to was that I’m not only inflexible, I’m tippy. If I stand on one foot it’s like balancing an olive on a toothpick. Not a great look, but it does remind me I could also celebrate my body with a martini.
I’ve learned a lot from yoga in only a week, maybe enough. I mean, isn’t it sufficient to realize your limitations without having to do anything about them? Isn’t that growth too? I’ll think about that as I work on my Couch Pose.
Namaste.
Hope this finds you touching your toes,
David
Copyright © 2024 David Smith