A Crack in the Sidewalk, or 15 Days Later

“With an intention, there is no failure.” – Me

Good thing I said that, because otherwise, I’d be writing today to say that I’ve failed.

It started last Thursday, when I was pressed for time and decided to run to my yoga class. It was a brilliant idea, I thought, for it would only take slightly longer to run there than it would to bike; I’d turn my prescribed run into transportation, thus saving myself time and keeping up with my marathon training. No sooner had I finished patting myself on the back for this uber-efficient and athletic solution did the sidewalk remind me just how fallible I was.

A mile into the run, I tripped on a crackcracked-sidewalkand fell, leaving my knees bruised and bloodied, and my dignity fractured. As the graceful citizens of Portland continued to walk and cycle past, I lay on the cruel concrete, crying pathetically and wondering what on earth I should do. I didn’t have time to go home and get my bike, the bus wouldn’t get me there in time, and I couldn’t find my car2go card. If I were to make it on time to teach, I had no choice but to keep running.

Four painful miles later, I arrived at the studio, knee puffy and sore. I taught, gingerly, and figured it would heal up in no time. The next morning, when it was still creaky and fat, I began to get nervous. I taught my usual Friday classes, hoping I wasn’t doing more damage, then made the bold decision not to practice yoga that day. In any other month, this would have been no big deal, but this time it meant I would not succeed in my 31 day challenge. To add insult to injury, I forgot to write. I wish I could blame it on a wrist sprain or a bad case of tennis elbow, but no: I just plain forgot.

When Saturday came and the knee was still sore and puffy, my anxiety swelled. I had already skipped one day of yoga, and it was looked like I would have to skip another. Saturday was also the day I was scheduled to do my long run, but that, too, seemed like it wouldn’t happen. Not only was I failing in my yoga quest, and not only had I skipped a day of writing, but my marathon training was unraveling as quickly as a loose-knit scarf at a cat convention. This is why I don’t do ___-day challenges, I cursed, because shit like this happens, and then everything falls apart!

Or maybe that is exactly why I should do such things.

Last summer, I told one of my yoga classes about a fabulous book I was reading: Mindset, by Carol Dweck. The segment I dont unravelreferenced had to do with our perception of, and reaction to, “failure.” Essentially, we often over-react, and turn minor mistakes, hiccups, or snags into spectacular ones. We eat one forbidden cookie, then say, Ah, fuck it! and eat five more; we get a poor night’s sleep, then guzzle enough coffee to give even the steeliest lumberjack an ulcer. But to do this, she says, is akin to getting one flat tire, cursing our luck, then slashing the other three ourselves. Why not just fix the one tire, she asks, and move on?

I still have four and a half months until the marathon, and there are still 15 days left in December. Also, as most yoga teachers know, one doesn’t need to do sun salutations and balancing poses to practice yoga. I can so simple seated poses; better yet, I can simply meditate (and maybe even ice my knee at the same time?!). Since Friday, I’ve been writing every day (again), trying to meditate for at least a few minutes each night before bed (hey, it’s better than nothing), and above all, appreciating my health. At least my spill on the sidewalk wasn’t any worse, and at least I can respect my body enough to take some time off when I need it. Meditation and stillness have always been more difficult for me than yoga asana and movement – so in a strange way, maybe this is the perfect kind of “__-day challenge.” I can’t say I like being laid up, or that I’m glad I fell, but it certainly has given me a lot to write and think about. So Cheers! to finding inspiration in the uncomfortable.

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31 Days

Yesterday was a big day. Not only was it the first day of my marathon-(pre)training program, but it was also the first day of my 31-day yoga challenge. For good measure, I offered myself another challenge: write every day for the month of December. I’m proud to say that, two days in, I’m right on track with all of the above.

This is big news for me because, while I’m generally a rather disciplined person, I’ve never much cared for the “___-day 31-Fingerschallenge,” for the same reasons I’ve never cared for cleanses, diets, or strict race training plans: our diet ebbs and flows with our phases, as does our weight, as does our workout schedule, as do most of our habits. To challenge myself to a number of consecutive days of anything gives me sweaty palms and a jumpy heart (and not in the fun way). What if I am super-busy one day and I don’t do yoga like I promised myself I would? What if I’m especially sore and decide not to run on a day I’m scheduled to? What if I forget to write something one day? What if I just really want a piece of chocolate or a bowl of ice cream (not so much a hypothetical as an everyday occurrence)? In simpler terms: what if I fail?

Classic perfectionist talk.

But this month, instead of pooh-poohing the yoga challenge that my friend proposed, instead of casually running and calling it Yoga Matstraining, instead of rationalizing my way out of writing every day, I said, Let’s do this. (Yes, the royal “us”: my ego and me.) Will every yoga practice be enlightening and amazing? Probably not. Will every run make me feel strong and fast? Today’s certainly didn’t. Will everything I write be enriching and wise? Judging by some of my past journal entries, I’ll go ahead and say: hell no. Is that fine? Yes. In fact, it’s fantastic. To be able to do something for the joy of doing it, rather than the sake of achieving a goal is something I need to practice.

In most yoga classes I teach, I invite my students to set an intention at the beginning of class. I then remind them (and in turn, remind myself) that an intention is different from a goal: an intention is something to focus on and feel, rather than something to achieve. With an intention, there is no failure. So instead of waking up each day in December and thinking, “I have to write, I have to run, I have to do yoga,” I shall think: “I get to do (at least!) three things that I love today – how glorious!” The intention, after all, is not to shame myself into doing things that are “good for me.” The intention is joy in doing.

So Cheers! to holding oneself accountable without guilt trips. Cheers! to living one day at a time. And Cheers! to delighting in the practice of doing, rather than the perfection of skills or achievement of goals. Don’t wish me luck; just wish me joy.