FEATURE
ARTICLES
Flexibility
and Stretching
by Margaret
Richard
Maybe,
just maybe, if we stretched more, we would be less uptight, and peace
would reign throughout the land. That may
be
wishful thinking, but at the very least we would be able to tie our
sneakers
when we're ninety! Flexibility, or the lack thereof, is probably the
single
most important factor affecting our quality of life as we age. The pain
and
stiffness of aging begin as temporary tensions that become learned
habits. But
don't assume that with aging you will automatically lose your
flexibility. You
can counterbalance the effects of aging so that your physiology is
quite a bit
younger than your chronology. When you stay flexible, you'll be able to
live
with vibrancy, energy, and independence.
The Benefits of Stretching
Over the years, we develop habitual ways of using our muscles to move
and
position ourselves. Poor posture and a lack of flexibility may be the
result of
a legitimate medical problem or may be the result of limited stretching
and
improper body alignment. When muscles get tight and stay tight, they
cease to
be elastic and they restrict movement. That sense of restriction, or
stiffness,
often leads to disuse. Disuse causes weakness and tightness, which in
turn
causes a vicious cycle of more disuse, weakness, and tightness. You
have to
“lube your chassis” to ensure a smooth ride. Regular stretching
activates
fluids in your joints, thereby reducing the wear-and-tear caused by
friction. Increased
water intake is also believed to contribute to increased mobility for
tissues
and joints that have become less supple.
Your muscles may also become tight and short due to overuse (resulting
in
injuries such as tennis elbow or tendonitis) or underuse. If nothing is
done to
lengthen stiff and short muscles, they continue to tighten, restricting
circulation and impeding the removal of toxins. And a short and tight
muscle is
more prone to injury. Ouch!
It is easy to take your physical capabilities for granted, until there
is a
problem. Your long-term goal should be to maintain your range of motion
so that
you can continue to accomplish everyday tasks, pain-free. This goal is
totally
realistic if you are willing to commit to a regular schedule of careful
stretching.
The benefits of a stretching program will be readily apparent, and you
will
experience increased comfort as your body moves with fluidity and
balance.
Stretching is the best way to maintain muscle and joint flexibility.
When you
stretch regularly, you will also reduce general muscle tension. A prime
benefit
of stretching is that it increases the distance your limbs can travel
before
injury occurs to the muscles and tendons.
Runners, in particular, suffer from painful hamstring injuries. These
sprains
and strains -- even tears -- of the muscle fibers are most likely the
result of
tight, inflexible hamstring muscles creating an imbalance with the
opposing
quadriceps. Every muscle in your body has an opposing muscle. It stands
to
reason that your muscles will experience less fatigue when a
contracting muscle
does not have to exert as much force against a flexible opposing muscle.
Here are some tips for stretching efficiently:
- The best time to stretch is following your
workout, when your muscles are warm. Stretching, as part of an effective
cooldown, helps to alleviate the soreness of post-workout muscles
caused by microscopic muscle tears and accumulated waste products
(lactic acid). Stretching lengthens the individual muscle fibers,
thereby increasing blood circulation, which helps to remove the waste
products, and reducing muscle soreness. A warm bath or shower will also
suffice to warm you up, if you prefer.
- Stretch your muscles back to their resting
length after each exercise.
Exercising your muscles with resistance, as we do in this program,
results in stronger -- and temporarily shorter -- muscles. Shortened
muscle fibers are more easily injured. Be sure to perform the
muscle-specific stretches I offer following each exercise.
- Stretch every third day for five to ten minutes
to keep your muscles supple.
If your muscles are particularly tight, you may want to perform gentle
stretching more often.
- Static stretching gradually lengthens a resting
muscle. As the
word static implies, there is no bouncing or
reaching once you have stretched your muscle to an elongated position.
Hold the stretch for fifteen to thirty seconds. As always, focus on
correct body alignment. Once
a muscle has reached its absolute maximum length, attempting to stretch
it further may cause undue stress to your ligaments and
tendons. As always, focus on correct body alignment.
Like aerobic endurance and
muscle strength,
flexibility provides anti-aging benefits that may keep the 'ol chassis
running
like new. Look forward to the cooldown as a reward for a job well done.
Stretching should be peaceful, both physically and mentally. Quiet your
mind,
breathe deeply, and r-e-l-a-x.
The above is an adapted excerpt from the book Body
Electric
by Margaret Richard
Published by McGraw-Hill; March 2008;$24.95US;
978-0-07-154480-1
Copyright
© 2008 Margaret
Richard
Margaret
Richard, author
of Body Electric,
has been in the fitness business for more than thirty years, and her
national
"Body Electric" TV program has been a viewer favorite on PBS for
twenty-two years. She has appeared before the U.S. Senate's "Special
Committee on Aging" and was recently inducted into the National Fitness
Hall of Fame where she now stands alongside Jack LaLanne, Jane Fonda,
Richard
Simmons, Kathy Smith, and Jake Steinfeld. For more
information, please
visit: www.bodyelectrictv.com.
Growing
Awareness
By
Marlene Kate Dalziel
“Look at
all the pretty sow-ers.” The
three-year old girl
giggled as she peered over the chin-high windowsill. Japanese Quince,
in full
bloom, traced its flower-laden branches against the glass. The girl’s
mother
walked to the window, and lifted the child into her arms. Mother and
child now
had a vista over the top of the shrub, and down into a riotously
colorful
flower bed.
An
observer watching this scene from the
outside would see a dark haired, high cheek-boned petite woman whose
serene
face left no doubt as to the deep love she felt for the tawny blond
child in
her arms. The observer would also note that the old wood sash framing
the pair
showed signs of many coats of hastily applied paint. A less cursory
glance
would show a small and patchy green lawn, two gnarled apple trees at
either end
and the long bed of old-time flowers running the length of the tiny
house. A
set of timeworn and slanted wooden steps leading to the front porch was
the
only interruption in the ribbon of color.
Sixty-seven
years later I still recall the
sense of wonder and delight coursing through me that day. Mother melded
herself
into my child’s world, held me, and reveled with me. That’s really the
best
part of this beautiful memory.
Mother
certainly could have continued
rolling out the piecrust and tending the pots on the old gas stove. Dad
would
be home soon; baby brother needed to be bathed, the house needed to be
put into
order, Mother would want to freshen up. The early evening ritual
prepared us
for the Dad’s arrival from his day of labor. And yet, my mother stopped
her
chores and walked over to marvel with me.
As an
insecure and unsure young wife in my
first home, I doubted my ability to plan our garden space. We took
advice from
others and the result was stiff, symmetrical, and harsh. No exuberance,
no
energy emanated from the placement of rocks, boards, and boring
plantings.
Two
decades later, two young sons, and a
needy old house on some acreage gave me the impetus and courage to
plant a
vegetable garden and begin realizing my burgeoning dream of a wild and
colorful
perennial garden.
The boys
grew to teens in that space.
During the many dark times of those later years, I learned to find
strength and
solace in my gardens. I also learned to vent anger and frustration
while
wielding pruning shears – we had the best-shaped conifers in the
county, albeit
the shortest!
I labored
long and, at times, obsessively,
in this garden. Although my body often ached from the hours of digging
and
planting, my mind became tranquil when my fingers felt the earth.
Touching the
soil touched my soul. As I learned names of plants and their
idiosyncrasies, I
learned to know and accept myself, my foibles, my strengths; learned to
understand my significance.
It’s now
many decades later and I am a
grandmother to four grandsons. I no longer have my large perennial
garden of
flashing hues, of swaying flower-covered Quince branches; the garden
with
pathways leading to secret meditation spaces, and the small pond where
chickadee and goldfinch bathed.
In many
ways, the gardens of my life are
metaphorical, illustrating awareness, growth, change, healing and
lessons
learned.
The garden
of the child’s life appeared to
the child when she was ready to appreciate it; her mother ignored the
chores
and peeling paint to hold the child who beheld the beauty.
An intense
young woman who yearned for
acceptance allowed others to plant the borders defining her existence.
Dry and
semi-sterile, rigid and taut, no weeds dared grow. No vibrant blooms
escaped
the manicured confines.
When I
finally gave myself the freedom to
create and experiment, the glorious garden of my later years bloomed
with
abandon and sparkled with artistry. After years of joys and sorrows,
discoveries and revelations, I realized my inner self needed to grow
even more
than the garden would allow.
Awareness
of the regeneration, renewal and
replenishment constantly occurring in nature made it easier to severe
the ties
to my garden and start anew. In the past ten years I am also learning
to accept
my senescent body and its changes. My young grandsons and I are part of
a grand
plan. Although the patio of my new small home holds fewer blooms, I
know the
hope is still there and the promise is eternal.
Marlene
Kate Dalziel is a Newsletter
subscriber from Portland, Oregon.
This,too,shall pass
By
Loanne Marie
A
few weeks ago, I gave up meditating on my zafu. It seems that my
various body
parts have aged at different rates, with my knees being at the front of
the
pack! The simple fact is that these two joints are much
happier when I
meditate sitting in a chair. This is just one of the
reminders that, at
age 52, my body is moving forward as planned on its trajectory toward
dissolution. | I don’t find that fact morbid to acknowledge. If there is any
truth to the
assertion that we are spiritual beings having an earthly experience, it
would
seem that remaining cognizant of the transitory nature of our lives is,
in
fact, essential. The changes that come with age can thus
become important
reminders that everything, including oneself, will pass away. | 
| It
is quite a common human experience to become a bit flummoxed when one’s
body
begins to change. We all know the confusion adolescents often
feel as
puberty grabs hold and carries them off into adulthood. The
process of
physical decline that becomes apparent in mid-life and accelerates into
old age
is often disturbing as well. The fact that these changes
carry us toward
death adds a unique flavor to the challenge and puts us right up
against what
we really
feel about the cycle of life.
I
used to say, only somewhat facetiously, that I had no problem with
getting
older, I just never expected my body to change. It’s easy to
acknowledge
in the abstract that we’re all going to die. But when we see
evidence of
that fact in
process through the aging of our bodies, it is another
thing
entirely.
The
changes that come with age are simple reminders that we will not be
long in
this world. We can greet them with angst and do our best
imitation of a
poor sap in the throes of an unconscious mid-life crisis--doing battle
with the
inevitable or attempting to avoid it through numbing or distracting
ourselves
with vapid new forms of entertainment. Or we can use these
realities to
nudge ourselves into a greater awareness of Spirit.
As
the process of aging becomes irrefutable, many of us begin a period of
evaluation. Are we living as we feel called to
live? Does our life
accurately reflect our core values? What aspects of
our experience
are working for us, and where are we holding ourselves back?
What changes
are we ready to make?
Approached
with wisdom and intention, this mid-life questioning can bring a rich
and vital
reorientation, essential to allowing our inner spark to continue to
shine
brightly. As the process extends further, however, a subtle
change may
begin to take place. We may no longer simply reevaluate our
life, but
begin the process of letting
go of it, or rather, letting go of the parts of it that
are
extraneous to soulful living.
We can pare down, bit by bit, moving closer to
that
which is
essential, to that which is true. The deterioration of our
physical form
can, if we let it, be the catalyst for this shift. |
 | Sometimes
growing older feels like a continual process of letting go--of
expectations, of
illusions of control, of loved ones who move away or precede us across
death’s
threshold, of egoistic plans that show themselves finally to be empty
of heart,
of the self-image and schemes we’ve spent the first half of our lives
creating,
and yes, of our attachment to our physical being. This
process
accelerates in old age, and it seems wise to me that it does. During
this time
we are moving closer to the point of letting go completely--of this
body, this
identity, this world. If we’re lucky, we might arrive at our
death free
of all but a rich and vibrant spirit. | | I
have a 98-year-old friend who talks with me about
spirituality. I
didn’t meet Jeanne until she was 82, so I don’t know what she looked
like in
her younger days. However, during the many silences that
weave their way
through our conversations, I gaze at her face and see a beauty I feel
certain
has grown deeper over the years. Yes, her body has aged--her
eyesight and
hearing are failing, the condition of her lungs makes the simple act of
breathing a challenge, and her once strong dancer’s body is now mostly
confined
to a wheelchair. But Jeanne radiates a loveliness and grace
that has not been
diminished by age. Her dancer’s soul remains and has grown
more radiant,
I suspect, as she has let go of much that is superfluous. In
those
moments of silence that envelop us, I see that Jeanne has relinquished
more
than physical weight. She has jettisoned much of what is
unnecessary, and
continues to discard more as she threads her way toward death. |
 | The
image of a hot air balloon comes to mind. Ballast is the
material that
provides stability to these vessels; throwing it overboard allows the
balloon
to rise to greater heights. I find this a lovely image for
the process of
conscious aging. Having become steadier within ourselves, we
are free to
discard what has now become simply extra weight. Thus, we
soar
higher...and higher still.
The
physical changes of aging are simple facts speaking of what is
true--our time
here is
limited. If we’re wise, though, we will recognize these facts
as the
attention-getters they seem designed to be. It is important to take loving
care of these bodies, our constant companions, so they can continue to
support
our living. | | It
seems imperative, though, to also perceive the message behind
the aches and pains, the hot flashes, the memory issues, the lowered
energy
levels. We will
be movin’ on down the road relatively soon; given the possibilities of
illness,
natural disaster, and accidents, that time might come sooner than we
think. It, therefore, seems essential that we not forget
where we’re
going, how we want to get there, and what condition we’d like to be in
upon
arrival--whenever
that might be.
I
don’t mean to minimize the challenges inherent in such an endeavor,
either for
ourselves or as we watch our loved ones die or struggle with difficult
illnesses. This afternoon I will attend a funeral of a dear
man, dead in
his early 60s from a virulent cancer. I love two women,
recently widowed
much earlier than expected, and a third who is now placing her husband
in a
nursing home due to advancing Alzheimer’s. As a
psychotherapist, I
understand that grieving and railing against the inevitable process of
death
and loss is a necessary undertaking. But when the anger is spent and
the tears
shed, where are we? What do we have? An acceptance
that this is the
way of life: birth, blossoming, maturity, decay, and death. Our
emotional
reactions will not change one thing about this succession, just bring
an honest
acceptance of it. These things will come to pass, whether
or not we greet them consciously. And in that conscious
greeting are gems
that remain hidden should we turn our backs. And
so, my knee joints are giving out. They are simply at the
forefront of an
inevitable physical decline. Their deterioration brings with it an
opportunity
to practice letting go. Now, I let go of my beloved zafu, of
my
attachment to the image of sitting serenely (or not!) upon
it. And as I
do so, I realize I am flexing my letting-go muscles. There
will likely be
an untold number of letting-gos between now and the final
one. Hopefully,
by the time I arrive at my death, I will be well-versed in the
practice, so
that my ultimate departure will be a celebratory event that I am able
to
welcome with grace.
This,
too, shall
pass away--whatever this might be, whenever that passing might come.
So, here’s
to greeting the inevitable signs of aging as reminders that our time in
these
bodies is
limited. May we ultimately greet each one with warmth and
another slight
shift toward Spirit.
Namaste!
Loanne
Marie, who lives in the Rocky
Mountains,
is a psychotherapist in private practice
and has a wonderful and inspiring blog. I am grateful to her for
permission to
use this piece and I hope you will all visit her website at www.in-awe.net to
read more of her wisdom.
|
LINKED
ARTICLES
I know
that many of us are huge fans of
Ronni Bennett and her blog Time Goes By:What it’s really like to get
old. But just
in case you missed them here are links to a couple of wonderful posts
that put
a delightfully different twist on the aging process. The first is
called Science
and the Wisdom of Age and the second, written by
Ronni’s columnist geriatrican
Dr
William
Thomas, is called Pinnacle
of Adaptation
|
