Skipping Yoga Class
If you understand something about me, understand this: yoga and I do not mix.
Why is that important for you to know? For reference. This isn't a post about yoga, but yoga taught me a lesson which I'd like to pass on to you. Just without you actually needing to flail about in a yoga class were the girl next to you is always doing better than you.
But really, through yoga I learned a pretty important life lesson about managing difficult things. I'm not really the philosophical type, but I think it's important to be able to think and process these things as they happen. So I hope you'll indulge me a little while I explain what I've been processing-- with the help of some failed downward dog attempts.
But really, through yoga I learned a pretty important life lesson about managing difficult things. I'm not really the philosophical type, but I think it's important to be able to think and process these things as they happen. So I hope you'll indulge me a little while I explain what I've been processing-- with the help of some failed downward dog attempts.
However, before we talk about yoga, I need to take you to one of the more intrinsic sides of myself: long distance running. You see, in long distance running, there's this thing called "the pain threshold." I'm not sure if any of you know, but running, especially long distances, is very painful. Long distance running is all about pushing the extent upon which humans can endure pain. At least in the modern sense of the sport, that concept has been the main draw, and romance, for athletes and fans all around the world.
Permit me a moment to geek out (and also explain myself a little more):
In 1954 was the first time anyone ran one mile (1600km) in under four minutes. Want to know why? It's because people not only thought it was downright impossible, but also because it was dangerous. A lot of people though you would die if you tried to run that fast, for that long. Did you know women weren't allowed to compete in the olympics until the 1980s? Just because people didn't think women could endure that much physical exhaustion. Haha.
We should talk about the Kenyans. If you're not in on this, the Kenyans dominate the world of long distance running. But why? There's a lot of possible reasons. Everything from diet, to genetics, to the fact that young children begin long distance running on their way to school and back. All very valid reasons, if you ask me. However, the Kenyans have, unique to them and them alone, certain traditions pertaining to coming-of-age ceremonies. I cringe to think about them myself, but if you click here I've linked an article that can fill you in on some of the details. But let me tell you, being able to manage pain is incredibly important. Running marathons at inhuman speeds seems like a walk in the park compared to what young Kenyans must prepare for.
Alright, geek out session done, back to the main point.
The pain threshold. There's not a lot of science to define for us exactly what a pain threshold is and how to measure. However, every distance runner knows that, the more pain you can take, the further, and faster you can run.
I realized last summer that my pain threshold was much lower than it ever has been before. Maybe it was living a year in the lap of provincial luxury in the Netherlands, or that I've been getting older and wiser, but 2016 has brought about some of the hardest 5ks I've ever known. You may not feel like this is important, but it is for me. That pain threshold is usually what indicates my ability to cope with difficulty. Not just in running, but also in life. Why should I be worried about how difficult I find my recent 5ks? Because how much more difficult life can be.
Enter, yoga.
Not for its flexibility or balancing chakras, but for something I learned while doing the downward dog. Or, more properly, by failing to do the downward dog. Frankly, I had no idea yoga could be so challenging, or that my hands could actually slip on trails of my own sweat, or that people were even supposed to bend like that. Still blows my mind. But during an hour full of many, many embarrassing moments, my spectacular failure in the downward dog led the teacher to explain:
"I know it may not seem like it now, but the downward dog is a position of rest. In yoga, we call it active rest."
That statement destroyed me. This tortured, reverse push-up position which was making my arms shake like leaves in the wind was supposed to be restful? No way. You know what's restful? The corpse position. Yeah, the one where you lay down and pretend to be dead-- that's my kinda relaxation right there. This was all while I looked at the 40-something lady next to me, effortlessly holding the pose. I swear, she wasn't even sweating. Not even the slight, sugary glaze type of sweat.
However, I owe that teacher an apology for not understanding fully. And a thank-you. The lady next to me knew something about the downward dog which I didn't. Maybe it was that she was an experienced veteran of yoga, but I don't think it would be a far reach for me to assume that she also knew life was a lot tougher than 16-year-old me understood. For her, yoga class was relaxing, even when turned upside down, inside out, all while holding yourself up by the finger tips.
You see, the downward dog will never be a restful position for me (tell me, are heels really made to do that far away from your calves, or are you just showing off your strange skills?), but running is.
You see, the downward dog will never be a restful position for me (tell me, are heels really made to do that far away from your calves, or are you just showing off your strange skills?), but running is.
I've been learning, in my young adult life, that sometimes life doesn't allow you enough time to really relax. Not everyone gets to take a year off of life to au pair or travel the world-- most people have jobs and schools and families to worry about.
When the rhythm of life itself isn't peaceful, learning how to actively, purposefully relax is more important than ever.
What does intentional relaxation look like when you don't have the time for a yoga class? Maybe it's taking an hour to read a book you've been meaning to for a while. Taking the time to talk with someone, call a friend. Meditation, sabbaths, coffee dates. For me, it's taking even as little as thirty minutes to go out and clear my head with a run.
In my opinion, we all cope in different ways. It's important to be aware that some ways are better than others. It's important that pieces of yourself don't shut down or turn off. It's painful sometimes to deal with what's at hand, and sometimes even intimidating to take time for yourself within those circumstances. I'm sure I'm not alone in also feeling like the feat of facing myself, my thoughts and fears and even hopes, sometimes feels impossible.
Most of you are older, wiser, and more experience than me. I'm sure many of you already know all of this. Even I knew it, on a basic level. But recently, as I've grown older and gained a bit more responsibility, it's been fundamentally important to try and put those things to action. Even though I'm not preparing for an ultramarathon or a brutal coming-of-age ceremony, I've still got to approach life with a sense of preparedness for the tough things to come. To summarize, I think I can openly share some wisdom I once got from a very wise man who said something along the lines of:
"Why do I love and teach long distance running as I do? Because long distance is unlike every other sport in that it is the closest metaphor for life. Life is painful, but all of us must push forward and endure it, like a long distance runner. Tough things happen, to every single one of us. There's no question, nobody is exempt. There's no avoiding that pain. Life always throws us curveballs. The question, then remains, how do you handle it? How can you keep going? You can't go through life avoiding it, you must cope with it somehow.
But let me simplify it for you. When life throws you these curveballs, you have two choices: to be better, or to be bitter. If you don't choose, if you aren't aware you have these choices, the automatic reaction is to remain bitter. It's important, now that you know you have a choice, to become better. To continue to grow, and to become stronger and more able to handle the hard things which come your way. Long distance running is the epitome of that idea, and teaches you on a basic level how to handle pain and become better for it."
All that to say, yoga is not my choice preference for learning these things, but it introduced me to the concept of active relaxation. Running taught me how to handle tough things in life, but it was yoga which taught me that running could be a form of therapy, intrinsic to my mental AND physical health.
Thank you for letting me process and re-learn out loud. I'm not sure if this helped any of you, but perhaps they're good thoughts to have in your head, for a rainy day. In any case, thank you for listening.
I hope you always stay well, mentally and physically and take the time to face what's in your heart.
Much love from the Amsterdam side of the world!
Running on,
Jessi
When the rhythm of life itself isn't peaceful, learning how to actively, purposefully relax is more important than ever.
What does intentional relaxation look like when you don't have the time for a yoga class? Maybe it's taking an hour to read a book you've been meaning to for a while. Taking the time to talk with someone, call a friend. Meditation, sabbaths, coffee dates. For me, it's taking even as little as thirty minutes to go out and clear my head with a run.
In my opinion, we all cope in different ways. It's important to be aware that some ways are better than others. It's important that pieces of yourself don't shut down or turn off. It's painful sometimes to deal with what's at hand, and sometimes even intimidating to take time for yourself within those circumstances. I'm sure I'm not alone in also feeling like the feat of facing myself, my thoughts and fears and even hopes, sometimes feels impossible.
Most of you are older, wiser, and more experience than me. I'm sure many of you already know all of this. Even I knew it, on a basic level. But recently, as I've grown older and gained a bit more responsibility, it's been fundamentally important to try and put those things to action. Even though I'm not preparing for an ultramarathon or a brutal coming-of-age ceremony, I've still got to approach life with a sense of preparedness for the tough things to come. To summarize, I think I can openly share some wisdom I once got from a very wise man who said something along the lines of:
"Why do I love and teach long distance running as I do? Because long distance is unlike every other sport in that it is the closest metaphor for life. Life is painful, but all of us must push forward and endure it, like a long distance runner. Tough things happen, to every single one of us. There's no question, nobody is exempt. There's no avoiding that pain. Life always throws us curveballs. The question, then remains, how do you handle it? How can you keep going? You can't go through life avoiding it, you must cope with it somehow.
But let me simplify it for you. When life throws you these curveballs, you have two choices: to be better, or to be bitter. If you don't choose, if you aren't aware you have these choices, the automatic reaction is to remain bitter. It's important, now that you know you have a choice, to become better. To continue to grow, and to become stronger and more able to handle the hard things which come your way. Long distance running is the epitome of that idea, and teaches you on a basic level how to handle pain and become better for it."
All that to say, yoga is not my choice preference for learning these things, but it introduced me to the concept of active relaxation. Running taught me how to handle tough things in life, but it was yoga which taught me that running could be a form of therapy, intrinsic to my mental AND physical health.
Thank you for letting me process and re-learn out loud. I'm not sure if this helped any of you, but perhaps they're good thoughts to have in your head, for a rainy day. In any case, thank you for listening.
I hope you always stay well, mentally and physically and take the time to face what's in your heart.
Much love from the Amsterdam side of the world!
Running on,
Jessi
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