The End of 43--It's My Birthday, Part 3

It's my birthday!

August 21, 1969.

Forty-four years I've been here. That sounds simultaneously long and short--maybe because I've reached the middle of life.

As a birthday present to myself, I'm taking the week to reflect on a few things I learned this last year.

Last year's birthday post was a bit darker.  Funny how much difference one year can make.

On Monday, I wrote about my photography class and how much joy I've felt as my skills have improved.

Yesterday I posted the results of a year of scripture study.

I saved the best for last.

In August 2008,  I was training for the St. George marathon.  I had run 16 miles that day, and I was feeling pretty great.  Brad and I went to see Heath Ledger and Christian Bale in Batman that night, and about halfway through the movie, I excused myself to use the bathroom.

After you run such a long distance, your body kind of stages a revolt--everything aches and hurts and creaks, and that is to be expected.  But when I walked back to the theater, I felt something different, something very wrong.  I had pain in my hips that couldn't be explained away by my training run--I had a serious injury and I knew that my marathon would have to be abandoned.

I went to the doctor, but nothing really came up on an MRI.  I gave up running long distances, and hoped I would heal, but a few months later, I was pregnant with Eve, so I stopped all attempts to fix my worn-out hips and focused on the new baby.

Fast forward to 2012, and I had been suffering with escalating hip pain for four years. I figured eight pregnancies and two marathons had permanently damaged my hips--I couldn't walk up or down the stairs without pain shooting down my legs.  I went to the doctor for more tests, but nothing new was discovered.  I went to the chiropractor, and after six weeks, my hips were even worse and I could barely walk.

I decided to try something completely different from running and doctors and chiropractors and suffering in silence.

Last September, I began to practice yoga. I practiced faithfully at home for six months, and then last March, I joined a yoga studio.

Within a month, I noticed a marked difference in how my hips felt.

By November, I was ran a 10K, and in March, I ran a half-marathon--a distance I never dreamed I would reach again.

Not only has yoga enabled me to run again, it has changed my body in many other ways. When I began my practice, I couldn't touch my toes.  Now, I can grasp my wrists underneath my feet and contort my body into crazy positions. I recognize the relationship between breathing and movement, and my concentration has improved.  I love challenging the movements of my body, and I see minor improvements in my positions all the time. I have more muscle mass than any time in my life, and I am more aware of how I carry my body throughout the day.  My posture has improved, and my stress level has dropped. I notice more creaks and aches in my body when I neglect my practice for more than a day or two, and I feel younger and better every time I leave the mat.

Yoga brings focus to my exercise and forces me to look inward.  To say I love yoga is incorrect.

I have adopted yoga as part of my life.

And what do I have planned for my big birthday day?  A few errands, maybe a little shopping.  Dinner with my family.

And you can bet I will be at the studio on the mat today, because I can think of no better way to celebrate the beginning of 44 than with a few vinyasas and savasana.

Here's to 44.  May it be as amazing and life-changing as 43.