Aaahh Lanzarote - the home of yoga. Ok, it's not actually
the home of yoga, but it's MY home of yoga. It's where I discovered yoga, where
I 'got' yoga. I found what it could do for me, how it could make me feel and
it's where I realised that I needed its teachings for the rest of my life. I'm
back to the source, in Lanzarote just now, and my body is thanking me for it.
I'm not in a peaceful retreat, tucked away from
civilisation, with only the yoga to fill my day. Couldn't be more opposite
actually. I'm in the athlete's Mecca that is known as Club La Santa. Every turn
you take brings you face to face with another ironman triathlete (spot the
tattoo) whether that's at the Olympic pool, running track, bike station station
or sitting in the pool bar sipping a beer. You can fill your day with anything
from step aerobics to windsurfing, or indeed yoga.
I first came here in August 2008, 1 month before the
World Duathlon Championships, for which I had qualified and was hopeful of
winning a medal at. I'd persuaded my husband Kenny that we should come here, and
when he'd finally agreed i planned out a week of full on training. I was going
to be the fittest I'd ever been and I was going for gold.
What actually happened by the time we got here was that
I was struggling with injury and general body pain. I hadn't been able to run
for weeks and biking was going down the same road. I wasn't in the greatest of
places mentally by time we got here.
Kenny loved the place immediately (thankfully!). I on
the other hand felt like a child standing outside the toy shop window watching
all the others kids playing with the latest coolest toys. Everywhere I turned
there was a triathlete wearing their 'uniform' as if to rub it in even more. I
tried to run, no chance. I tried to bike, forget it. I tried to swim, even that
hurt. I aqua-jogged, it felt wrong. I worked my way through everything I could
on the timetable of activities and each time I reached a blockade. My body was
telling me in every way it could possible that it had had enough. But still I
was determined to make it move and 'do something productive'.
So on day 3 I tried yoga.
I remember sitting on the lawn, in the sun, thinking
to myself that this was not what I'd planned for my week. I couldn't quite
believe I was sitting there. To be fair, it was something that I'd always felt I
should do, but i wasn't sure why. I'd just always been told it was good for me.
So i thought I'd better just get on with it and see what happened. Then the
teacher arrived. He was not at all what I'd expected to see. This man was
strong, athletic, and dare I say it, tough looking. He looked like an athlete. He
looked like the most athletic of athletic triathletes, but he was sitting on
the stage barefooted, cross legged and about to teach yoga. He had an ironman
backpack with him. i prepared to feel upset.
We sat for about 10 minutes crossed legged as he
talked. His strong welsh accent was rich and mellow. It's tone was calming yet commanding.
I was drawn in, and I was listening. He talked us through breath. He talked, I
listened. As I followed his words I became aware for the first time of the band
of tightness constricting me around my centre. I realised I couldn't breathe. I
was an elite athlete, yet I couldn't breathe. I focussed on what he was saying and
I found parts of me I had never before experienced. I was scared to breathe where
he was directing breathe. I thought my breathe would stop and never start again,
or that i'd split in two if I breathed the muscles looser. But I felt my
breathe, and myself, start to open up. I concentrated on his words as he set
the direction for the class. 'This is not a competition. There is no winning or
losing. There is about YOU, YOUR body, and YOUR yoga. It doesn't matter what
other people are doing, this is about you'. It felt like I'd been given
permission to take a break and stop trying. For the rest of the class I just followed
his words. When he told me to put my hands in a particular position I did. When
he gave the harder option and I couldn't do it I stayed with the lower. He 'd
told me it was ok, that this was about my limits, that I would get there, in my
own time when I was ready. I trusted him. We didnt do a lot of moves, but i had
moved a lot!
His classes became my sanctuary in the week. I handed
over pain and worry and simply followed direction. In return I found newness. I
connected with prana and I wanted to connect more.
Coming back home my life path and outlook changed. It
was going to anyway, it had to. I was worn out, exhausted and heading for
meltdown in one way or other. I gave up competing, i trained in pilates and
completely shifted my working life. My health and quality of life increased
dramatically.
I cant say that Steve's yoga was the start of the
change. There were many factors at play at that time. But I can say that it was
there at the beginning of the change. For that reason alone his teaching will
always have an important place in my heart.
And so I'm here again, having a week of Steve's yoga.
This time mixed in with a week of running, mountain biking, swimming and chillaxing.
My body now embracing the variety. Yesterday I was there at his class, eagerly
awaiting his direction. We sat and contemplated and listened to our body before
moving at it's pace and will. It's my fourth year of being at his class and I'm
still joyed at the simplicity of his teaching and the utter obviousness of his
comments. Within a couple of minutes I was grinning inside like a Cheshire cat.
My body released where it needed and found new movement. And the words that really
struck a chord to me were as follows: 'your body will only go where it can go
today. Do not force it, do not TRY to make it happen today. When your body's
ready it WILL happen - trust the process, trust yourself, trust your body,
trust life'. 'What you put in is what you get out. It's like that in life. Your
body is a reflection of your life.'
