When I set out on the 30-Day Yoga Challenge less than two weeks ago, a friend got a good laugh out of the prospect of the inevitable culmination of the challenge in a 15-hour yoga blitz on September 30. I believe her words were, “Ha. Talk about knowing thyself.” Sure enough, not even halfway through the Challenge, I’ve already dropped a class and doubled-up on the next day just to make sure I get the full 30 yogas in 30 days.
I talked to that same friend on the double-up day, and I told her that I was planning to double-up. She laughed, since I’d expressly addressed that very compulsion of mine at the outset of the Challenge. I don’t know what it is in me that won’t let me just drop the class. I mean, I know that a 29-Day Yoga Challenge is dang good for anybody. It also happens to be approximately 25 more days of yoga this month as compared to last month. And besides, it’s not like I win a car if I do all 30 days this month, and it’s not like my apartment will burn down if I don’t. All good points, soundly reasoned and seemingly unassailable. And yet . . . .
There seems to be an evolving quest-within-a-quest on the road from blobiness to fitness. There is the overt quest for blob-less-ness, of course. But there is also the quest for the ability to accept that which simply is not going to be changed. (Take my love of beer, for instance, or cellulite, or the 9:00-minute mile.) In the past I have, not infrequently in this blog, all but reveled in dejected resignation. Moving forward, I intend to remind myself that if the result of my fitness quest is a life lived exactly the way I want to live it (eating and drinking what I want, whenever I want) while still maintaining a modicum of physical and mental health while doing that, well then, success is mine.
Hold Thyself in Sweet Regard.
So, even if I am deeply flawed for obsessing over something as silly and personal as the 30-Day Yoga Challenge, that flaw is (very) me. I also suspect that, like probably every flaw we know, acknowledge, and still succumb to, it’s just not that bad. It’s a little like the one time, a yoga instructor told a class I was in that “some yoga is better than no yoga” when a student admitted to leaving the week before, being too embarrassed to enter a yoga class five minutes late.
In this case, double-yoga is better than no yoga. Even though doubling-up is ridiculous, proves nothing, and may even undermine the balance-seeking goal of the whole dang challenge, I’m still getting plenty out of each session. Like the bit about holding yourself in sweet regard, appreciating what is there, the progress you have made, and marveling at the growth yet to be attained. I think that in trying to stay positive on this path and avoid criticizing myself right out of my best intentions to get fit, this is a rather apt lesson indeed.