The Comparison That Matters

Michelle doing yoga at the Menil in Houston, TX

Lately I’ve noticed how easily I can get down on myself about the shape I’m in.

Many people might roll their eyes if they heard my frustrations. I move every day. I lift weights regularly. I ski. I walk. I teach yoga and maintain my own consistent practice. Compared to most my age, not bad.

But of course, I’m not comparing myself to "most my age". I’m comparing my current self to my younger self. My forearm-standing younger self. My “I’m almost in a full split” younger self.

And compared to her, I feel weaker. Less flexible. More cautious. More aware of what could go wrong.

When I shared this with a mentor, she offered a thought I haven’t been able to shake. “Well,” she said, “imagine what kind of shape you’d be in if you weren’t doing all the work you’re doing.”

I had never considered that. I spend so much time comparing my current body to a past version of myself that I rarely stop to imagine the alternative. This same body without years of yoga. Without the weight lifting, the focus on good sleep, eating nourishing foods, the dog walks, the skiing, the snowshoeing. Without the consistency. Without the commitment.

It’s difficult to picture, but I suspect I would feel very different. Stiffer. Weaker. Less steady.

What I tend to focus on are the imbalances. How much weaker my left side still is. How my right hip feels pinched and sometimes needs a heating pad at night. How my left clavicle makes unsettling noises when I lift a weight. How I hesitate - and still haven't kicked up into a forearm stand - because I'm not sure I have enough strength in my shoulders and I don't fully trust that left clavicle to hold me.

Returning from injury has required more patience than I realized I would need.

Recovery doesn’t move at the pace it once did. Progress feels slower. The margin for error feels smaller. And sometimes I’m surprised by how much I still expect things to feel the way they used to.

But here’s what I’m beginning to understand.

The body I have now is getting older, sure, but it also responds to what I do to it.  It is in relationship with me.  It is getting stronger, more flexible. It responds to what I give it. It adapts. It stabilizes. Sometimes it even surprises me.

And perhaps the more useful comparison isn’t between then and now.

Perhaps it’s between engaged and disengaged. Between tending and ignoring. Between moving and not moving.

When I look at it that way, I’m not behind. I’m participating.

And that feels different.

mgk