My Yoga Mat Is a Battlefield

How do you know when to push yourself farther and when to back off? For me, I usually have to be in physical pain before I can accept that I have gone too far. Throughout my eight or so years as a yoga student, I have had many, many flares. I used to be able to push past the initial pain I felt at the beginning of a yoga session and use the deep stretches to soothe my arthritis pain and release muscle tension.

It was pretty simple. I even devised a system to check my level of mobility early on in a vinyasa: if my back popped during a standing forward fold and I was able to graze the floor with my fingertips while my legs were straight, I was good. I could probably move freely in my practice without further injury.

That test is for the birds. Lately, that mid-back pop that used to accompany an internal sigh of relief is now the audible warning. My body has changed, and not entirely for the better. My wrists can go months functioning perfectly fine, only to whimper under the pressure of my own body weight before I make it out of cat/cow pose today. I switch to fists for as long as I can stand it, until the pain spreads to my knuckles under the pressure. Then, during my first downward dog, my brain is split between the pain in my wrists and the new pain in my heels and ankles. My back and shoulders make their presence known. Sometimes it is an intense stretch, part refreshing and part tedious. Other times, it is excruciating. I don’t always see it coming, and then I am momentarily trapped in a position causing me agony. As the session progresses, it either gets worse or better. I may end up doing dolphin or half dog instead of downward dog, staying in a forward fold at the front of my mat, or going all out before the session ends.

I know exercise and meditation are good for treating arthritis pain, so I continue in whatever modification I can muster. Sometimes that means staying in child’s pose for a full vinyasa or longer. Sometimes it means letting my body take the extra time it needs to warm up and then joining the rest of the class later on. Sometimes it means giving up for that day, just getting through the class without audible signs of my struggle, going home defeated, and trying again tomorrow.

Those are the days I feel like a failure. Even though I know it will pass, and I will have a more enjoyable practice another day, the bad days take a toll. Even though I know it is my physical body and not necessarily something I have caused to happen, I still take it personally. I can’t help but fight against my body. Admitting defeat is the hardest pill to swallow, and believe me, I swallow many of them. Having fought this body for half of my life does not make any battle easier over time.

I have decided the vinyasa class I have been attending regularly is too much for me, at least for now. I am upset, but I don’t want to harm myself by trying to progress faster than my body can handle. I plan to return to the vinyasa class when my body is more agreeable, if my body is ever more agreeable. Until then, I need to take a class I can handle, without the agony of defeat.