I’ve never considered myself an overly fearful person. I don’t ever think about physically getting hurt, in accidents, sick, being attacked or anything like that. I have a healthy respect for all of these things, and do not and seek out trouble by not washing my hands or driving with my eyes closed, but fears about a lot of everyday things don’t cross my mind. Now, this is mainly in a physical sense, social fears are a whole other basket full of nerves. However, in that last month or so, I have been noticing a small fear voice creeping in, during two activities: yoga and bike riding.
As a kid I rode my bike a lot. I didn’t even wear a helmet or knee pads or any other kind of protection kids are supposed to wear these days (in all fairness, I only remember a couple of kids ever wearing any of those things, and quite frankly, they looked dorky). I would fearlessly ride my bike at crazy speeds throughout neighborhoods, down main the sidewalks of main roads, attempt to ride no handed, ride on the handlebars, etc. Around high school I stopped riding my bike and it wasn’t until recently I started riding again. My town isn’t overly bike friendly, but doable, with wide shoulders on the road or, when things get tight, a sidewalk to hop onto. I have two placed I ride my bike to – the gym or work. But now, when I ride down the road, I don’t have the same free and euphoric feelings I had as a child, rather, I’m constantly nervous. I envision flying over my handlebars, getting hit by a car, running over something and falling. I’m actually considering getting a helmet (which will have an unflattering effect on my hair!). To some, okay, most, folks who ride their bikes to work, my route probably seems fairly tame and quiet. It’s really only the intersections and the stretch with very little shoulder that scare me, but still, it’s scary!
I’ve been training for the regional yoga competition, so I’ve been trying to amp things up. I started really working full camel, which I’d been attempting to get into for a while. I’d even been told by a friend watching an early attempt that I was basically there, I just had to do it. But I was holding myself back, scared I wasn’t going to be able to get out and scared I wasn’t ready. I was, and often still am, unable to trust my body. After learning a few more techniques and really working at it, one day I finally got it – twice! I did it once, and then decided to set up my phone to take a picture, just in case I never got in again. Maybe I jinxed myself, but I haven’t gotten it again. Fear of not getting it again, combined with bending all the way back start to lock me up. For a while I would go back, come up, start again, and cycle through that a couple of times before actually getting back, but when I actually do get back I can’t quite get my heels. As I’ve continually practiced it, going back has smoothed, but, alas, no heels.
I suppose the fear is part of what keeps me trying and riding again. Having something fearful, but attainable to conquer is a thrilling challenge. But I’d like to think it also has a higher purpose, to keep you aware and in your body and mind. When I’m on a nice stretch of my ride I’m really enjoying myself. It’s about 20 minutes where it’s just me. I don’t put on headphones, because that seems like trouble. Occasionally play music on my phone that sits in the basket, but I don’t lose myself the way I do with a run, or even the way I do listening to a book in the car. I’m still aware of every sound and bump and movement that I make. I can tell you where there were deep water puddles I had to go around and that troublesome, bumpy stretch by the baseball fields finally got some attention. My fear keeps my mind in the moment, and as someone who tries to do 5 things while thinking about 9 more, it’s 20 minutes of focus and relaxing an overactive brain.
Fear is also playing a similar role in the yoga room. It keeps me aware of what I’m doing, and it makes me careful. It helps generate a healthy respect for yoga, which is important. As I’ve told students, the yoga is a tool to help your body, and with any tool, it must be used appropriately and with care. I could hurt myself if I’m not careful, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t attempt it, mindfully. And so I do, and the more I try, the more I understand my body and the posture. Fear also keeps the ego in check. It keeps me from getting cocky and flinging my body and arms around. It helps tell you what your body may or may not be ready for. I’m pushing myself, and the fear is a reminder to be careful.
Fear is a reminder, it keeps you present and it keeps you aware. But most important, it serves as a challenger. It can scare you into not playing, or it can keep you playing and keep you fresh.
Backbends and Bookends 