Slowing down
I’ve always been in a hurry. When I was a little girl, I was in a hurry to drive because that would give me, in my little eyes, freedom; when I could finally drive, I was in a hurry to get out of high school because, well, high school.
And so it went. I learned to read quickly, think quickly, move quickly, because I thought somehow that would make life better. It wasn’t until I was re-learning how to do every basic movement pattern in my late twenties and early thirties that I learned the value of slowing down.
This doesn’t mean I still don’t sometimes revert back to old habits. My husband often says when we are going for a walk, “why are you walking so fast? Do you have somewhere to be?” “There’s so much to see,” I usually reply, “I am just trying to see as much as possible.”
Because really that is the reason people rush. They want to see, do, experience as much as they can because time is precious, a resource we can’t take back. The problem with this attitude is seeing as much as possible doesn’t necessarily translate to a high quality experience.
This happens all of the time with movement. Practitioners want to achieve a specific goal, whether it’s an arm balance, a specific amount of weight to be lifted, or a chin-up. So they rush through the foundational steps, chasing the movement, only to realize once they’ve achieved the movement it’s not as stable/strong/flexible as it could be.
I recently had to re-certify for one of the organizations I am affiliated with. The majority of the physical tests were things that I can do fairly easily and the written test was open book, yet I had to re-take both of them because in my rush to just get it done the first time around, I was sloppy. I missed questions that were easy to find in the manual. I fell during the balance portion of the physical test, something I never do, because impatiently trying to move on to the next skill.
The funny thing is in my rush to get it done, I ended up spending more time re-taking the written test and re-filming the physical tests than I would have had I just slowed down and taken my time the first time through.
How many times have you rushed through your exercise program so you could check it off of your list and move on to the next thing? Have you ever considered what it means to rush, rather than engage with what you are doing? Because that’s the thing with rushing. You are so busy looking forward you don’t enjoy the here and now, so you miss things along the way.
When I reflect on my tendency to rush and what it meant for my movement journey, I feel both a little bit saddened and grateful. I am saddened because had I slowed down and taken the time to master all of the steps en route to specific feats of strength and mobility I would have arrived in my current physical state much sooner. I would have been able to help my clients more completely in those early years of training because I would have experienced the acquisition of a strong foundation and I would be able to see back then what I can see now. I would be able to see where people were stuck and help them move through the murkiness.
I am grateful because I took the time to go back and re-learn. Developing a foundation later in my training career gives me empathy and compassion for clients that are struggling. It’s entirely possible that learning to slow down and pay attention later also made me more sympathetic to the time it takes to elicit change. In our early twenties, change comes easily. Neuroscientists don’t even think our brains are emotionally developed until about the age of 24. Physically, it feels a bit like we are unbreakable because athleticism still comes quickly and it’s easy to learn new motor skills. Developing a strong foundation later possibly made me a better teacher than I would have been had I slowed things down the first time around.
While our brains remain malleable throughout our lives allowing us to learn new skills, it becomes just a little bit harder as we age. Our tissues become accustomed to specific ways of moving, just like our brains become accustomed to specific ways of reacting. It requires more conscious thought and effort to make changes, and changes are best done incrementally, in small doses so the brain and the body can adjust to the introduction of new ways of moving and being.
But, it can be done, and if it’s approached systematically, without a timeline attached, the results can be profound. Not rushing skill acquisition improves long term learning, making patterns and connections easier to see.
How did I teach myself to slow down? By breathing. By focusing on the nuances of how I accomplished a task rather than fixating on the accomplishment. By forcing myself to work through the middle, to find the points that were uncomfortable and sit in those places searching for the strength and ultimately the sense of ease that comes when the brain no longer perceives the position is a threat because there isn’t enough strength/stability/flexibility. These things are acquired with consistency and patience, not by doing endless reps in exactly the same way or rushing through a workout just to get it done.
These are the lessons I try and teach my clients. Simply asking the question, “can you feel how you did that?” slows a person down and helps bring his attention to his body. “What happens when you do it this way,” I often ask, approaching movement tasks like a puzzle with no right or wrong answer. Physical tasks are like algebraic equations. It is possible to skip steps and arrive at exactly the same solution as the person who showed his work, but as the problems become more complex, skipping steps eventually leads to difficulty finding the right answer.
Showing your work makes it easier to see where maybe you could try something a little bit differently in order to arrive at a more effective conclusion. Movement is like this. If I understand every step to the Turkish Get-Up and can perform each nuance well, it makes it easier to do the entire movement successfully. However, if I rush through the transitions that are challenging and never take the time to break it down, my efficiency will be lower and I will never truly master the skill.
Slowing down and being present translates into things we do in every day life. When I slow down while cooking, I am less likely to leave out ingredients because I missed a step; when I slow down while taking a walk, I am more likely to notice the beauty around me.
I will always have the tendency to move quickly. It’s my nature, but that doesn’t mean I can’t consciously work to slow down and experience movement in a more mindful way. And maybe the same lessons learned in the weight room will translate into moving with a little more awareness and a little more thoughtfulness in my everyday life.
