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| Beach Road Adventure by Melina Meza |
Also that year, two different friends told me, during two separate lunch conversations, “You need yoga!” Me? Yoga? I hadn’t even gone for a walk in nearly eight years. But the universe works in mysterious ways, and as luck would have it, in late 2007, I moved into a condominium that had a fitness center, Anytime Fitness, next door to my building. My 61-year-old body joined the gym, and I began working with a trainer twice a week. Over about six weeks, I was able to gradually increase my hold time in a forearm plank from five seconds to 20 seconds. (This was no picnic, believe me. After 20 seconds, I was completely out of breath and had to rest.)
Soon after I started strength training, Anytime Fitness started offering yoga classes. It was as though the advice of my friends had dropped from heaven into my lap! From the moment I found the mat, I felt like a duck in water. What amazed me was that the negative stories I had been telling myself about my physical abilities seemed irrelevant when it came to yoga. I’ve never been particularly athletic; I’ve never been good at sports. Back then, I spent most of my day at my desk or in meetings, and in the evening, I turned into a couch potato. But yoga changed all that.
The teacher, a gifted young yogi named Maren Marks, had the patience of a saint and the instincts of a master teacher. I studied with her for almost three years, even when I was taking classes from other teachers. On the mat, the optimist in me overcame the inner critic. I still don’t fully know why, but here is what I believe. Even though Hatha yoga is an embodied practice, it is facilitated by the breath and mind in concert. I had happened on an open-hearted discipline that required me to pay attention to my breathing, and that attention turned out to be critical to living well with emphysema. At the same time, yoga was teaching me to fully focus my mind on the activity at hand—I had no choice if I didn’t want to topple over!—and that helped me emerge from a seven-year funk following the death of my husband.
As I just suggested, when I started yoga in early 2008, I could not balance on one foot, so classic poses like Vrkasana (Tree Pose) and Warrior III were unavailable to me, and even front-facing, two-legged poses like Warrior I and crescent lunge—a high lunge with arms overhead or in namaste—had me swaying from side to side while my toes kept grasping for the mat. Adding a twist to a crescent lunge was unthinkable for me.
In every class I took, I immediately fell out of every balance pose I tried. And me with significant osteoporosis! So, one of the first things I learned as an older student was that I had to take care of myself, and that meant increasing my body awareness. After years of self-avoidance, I finally found a reason to reconnect with my body—to get to know it in age, and to use that knowledge to help keep me safe and confident. If I have learned anything at all from starting yoga at an older age, it is that.
Just as I learned that I could improve from five to 20 seconds in forearm plank, I began to realize that yoga was something I could get better at through practice. This was a profound realization for me, and offered a deep motivation to stay with my practice, to be persistent and patient, and to let greater comfort and proficiency come naturally over time. I discovered that in yoga, it always does. Over time, not only can you literally see and feel the positive changes in your body, you also find yourself feeling better in general—enjoying enhanced well-being.
What I learned in class offered the healthy foundation I needed, but my deepest learning came in private, at home, where I could practice at my own pace. I was always years older than the next oldest person in my classes, and with my breathing and balance issues, I was often not able to keep up with my teacher. But she made me feel so welcome and supported that I didn’t care. I simply thought, “Oh, goodie! Here’s something I can practice at home.” For me, that was a completely new approach to learning. Truly, yoga had allowed me to let go of my ego (my younger self?) in order to open myself to deeper self-knowledge.
If you come to yoga in your 50s, 60s, or 70s, you’ll carry the richness of your life history with you to the mat. There, to my surprise, I learned that my history didn’t limit me at all, nor did my age, nor did my myriad diseases and conditions. But to keep myself safe as an older beginner, I did need to pay closer attention to the postural alignment of my body and the rhythms of my breath, both in movement and stillness, than my younger, softer-boned classmates.
If you are teaching older beginners, know that as we age, our body’s balance systems don’t work quite as well, and people new to yoga need help to safely reclaim those skills. For example, I have learned that for older beginners, one-legged Utkatasana (Chair pose) is an easier one-footed balance than Vrkasana (Tree pose). Know that your older students will have more complicated and diverse physical histories than your younger ones—as we age, our bodies become more unique and less like each other’s. But know, too, that older students are wise and have learned to make thoughtful decisions about themselves. Practice sensitive watchfulness and offer individual guidance, but respect the fact that older students know their bodies better than you.
It’s now been six years since I found yoga, and guess what? I can now enjoy Vrkasana any darn time I please! And Warrior III! And for dessert, I think I’ll have a crescent lunge with a gentle twist. Yoga is for all of us. May your yoga experiences be as fulfilling and sustaining as mine, no matter your age when you start.
