I was supposed to run a quarter marathon yesterday. But, a convergence of (minor) misfortunes--a pulled adductor muscle, stomach flu, head cold--cost me three weeks of training and made running 6.5 miles seem like a very bad idea.
It's so hard to listen to your own advice. Pay attention to just yourself; modify the sequence to suit your body; only you can know if the pose is working or not. All fine and good to suggest during yoga class, but start me slogging down the street and it's all the old voices of junior high school track (too slow, too heavy) whispering in my ear. So, Mother Nature decided to get my attention with a mighty twinge in my right thigh. I thought I'd better listen.
In the beginning of this year I trained for, and ran in, a sprint triathlon. I had two goals: 1. To see if I could actually do the work without killing myself (yes) and 2. To tame my hyper-competitive spirit (sorta). Funny how that is such a problem for me--and maybe why yoga appeals so much.
I love swimming. I love riding my bike. Running makes me feel lumpy and slumpy and like I'm just pounding along. But, I enjoy the cross-training and I think it is good for me to have to work on something that doesn't come easily. That has a lot of voices attached to it. I have to remind myself frequently to just do the work and not focus on the fruits (thanks, B-G).
To me, the whole thing is a nice physical metaphor for life. Some things will come easily and be a delight, some things require a lot of work and are a challenge. How can you adapt your thinking so that you will be open to learning from both experiences? Maybe even find some joy in the rough stuff (or at least be at peace with it)?
The leg is fine, now. I have another triathlon in July, that I'm really looking forward to. My massage therapist noted that the yin meridian in my right leg was blocked so I'm working on getting the chi flowing. I went out for a bike ride this afternoon that was lovely. No voices, just breeze and open fields and bird song.
Doesn't that sound nice...