
Comparison as the thief of joy
I know it’s not helpful to compare 52 year old me to younger versions. I do it anyway. I know. I know. I KNOW!
I used to effortlessly touch my toes and wonder what, exactly, was this supposed to be stretching?
I’d sit in Butterfly pose with my feet together, tucked in towards my groin with my thighs flat on the floor. It looked neat but I didn’t feel stretching.

Avoiding being mediocre
Before warming up I gently start a forward bend and my hands make it midway down my shin. Huh. It is uncomfortable. I feel all the muscles and tendons from the base of my skull to the bottoms of my feet resisting.
The tissues protest, sending jolts of discomfort. They eventually let go in fits and starts. It doesn’t feel better when they do, just different. I now understand why touching your toes is a stretch and it’s an effort.
Aversion to discomfort
I’m in a seated forward bend and I’m certain from the outside I don’t look like I’m forward at all.
My hamstrings and calves are rock hard, resisting. I breathe. I get my yoga strap and loop it around my feet. The gentle pressure does help me inch downward. I remember laying my forearms on the floor next to my calves. It seems unlikely I’ll do that.
Abstaining from stretching
Together this has made stretching and yoga something I no longer do regularly. I keep setting little challenges for myself to include stretching in my daily routines and promptly abandoning those plans.
I do feel better afterwards. I really do.
Negative feedback loop
I find stretching uncomfortable, so I do it less. This makes stretching harder, I no longer enjoy it. You get the point.
Tie it to something I always do
Walking Michel and Lucy is something I do at least twice a day. So I’m going to add a small stretch after the walk and see if I can regain some range of motion as well as my joy of being bendy.
I miss my competent, joyful stretching!
