"How should yoga feel? Just stretchy?"

May 11, 2023 Becci Curtis

I've been delving into the murky world of internet forums (I have my reasons) and came across a thread on the modern source of all wisdom (Mumsnet) that began with:

'I realise this is a ridiculous question but I’ve never really ‘got’ yoga. I’ve tried a good 3/4 times with Adriene [the YouTube sensation] and even though I am so keen to love it I just haven’t.
But my question is how should it feel? Just stretchy? There was one pose where I had to hook one knee then put my hands behind it and pull which felt very stretchy in my hamstring but I was a bit like ‘oh is this right?’ - it wasn’t painful just different.'

There isn't anything ridiculous about this question, or the replies to it. In fact, I think this one small corner of the internet succeeds in pointing out many of the conflicting ideas and strange assumptions that are widely (and over-confidently) shared about yoga.

At some point you will probably have been led to to believe that:

1. Taking part will make you a better person

Calmer, happier, disciplined, more compassionate, less angry, with an unrivalled ability to wake-up earlier than anybody else.

2. Taking part will give you a better body

As flexible as a new born baby, as strong as a gladiator, and still pretty damn good looking in your ethical and sustainable underpants.

These beliefs are not really unique to yoga – you only need to dip into the dubious origins of ‘good posture’ and the twisted past of the treadmill to appreciate that physicality and morality have long been intertwined – but they are beliefs that can produce the mother of all guilt trips, plus a whole load of faulty reasons for the things we feel in (and about) our bodies, and how we choose to move them.

I used to think I was ‘really good at yoga’. I knew lots of Sanskrit words, could give you a pretty legit sounding definition of what yoga was, and get my leg around my head. On the flip side, I also used to think I was ‘really bad at yoga’ because I didn’t practise for 90 mins every day, or have much interest in meditation.

After 20 years of personal practice (almost 10 years as a teacher), I’ve come to realise that I don’t really know what yoga is and – knowing a little more about the intercultural, transnational, and historical complexities* – I feel less and less entitled to make a working definition.

I can’t even really answer the forum's question – how should yoga feel? – because:

I don’t know.
It depends.
How do you feel? Is it a feeling you’re willing to tolerate?
Are you enjoying it?
Does it feel helpful?
Do you find it interesting?
Is it worth your time?

Your preferences are reason enough

We learn best (and we move best) when we are given the opportunity to connect with our own experiences, make our own choices, and reserve the right to change our minds.

Seeing as I’ve not been much help in giving you a clear answer, I’ve pulled some comments out of the thread that started this post in an attempt to help you navigate your own very good reasons and avoid the guilt trips.

Good reasons for taking part in any kind of leisure activity:

'I find it a bit weird tbh but very relaxing.'
'It leaves my mind feeling peaceful and I feel happy for doing something good for my body.'
‘I really feel it if I miss a class, like I'm coiled too tightly.’

Fine reasons for choosing to do something else with your free time:

'I simply have no time for all the 'woo woo'.'
'I've just ended up stressed and grumpy.'
'It really does nothing for me.'
'I never really improved.'

Sad reasons for not taking part in, well, anything you fancy having a go at really:

'I have really ugly feet.'
‘I am just unfit and rubbish.’

If you have any good or fine reasons you would like to add to this list, let me know, or leave a comment. I will happily include them so you can point the person who keeps telling you to try something you don’t want to do to this page.

If you have any sad reasons you would like to add it must belong (or have belonged) to you. I won’t have this category used as a way to guilt trip someone into trying something. If you’ve landed on this page because someone WhatsApped you and was like ‘See! Your reason for not doing x is a sad reason!’; screenshot this bit of the page and send it back to them.

*If yoga history is your thing (or you feel absolutely certain that you know what yoga is and like a challenge), I highly recommend reading Roots of Yoga (2017) by James Mallinson and Mark Singleton. You can dip into Theodora Wildcroft’s round-up of the book’s fraught reception (outside of academia) on The Open University’s Contemporary Religion in Historical Perspective blog. Or skim Matthew Remski’s summary of the keypoints for Yoga Journal.

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For better and worse, the new year brings with it a lot of expectations.

I love working towards goals and I fully back anyone who is driven to take personal responsibility for the things they can influence and change. But we've all heard the anecdote: lots of people take out a gym membership in January and rarely attend past February.

Why? Because most people try to make too big a change, too frequently, too soon. (Yep, I’m in the ‘most people’ category too).

Unrealistic expectations set us up to fail (or fall asleep) at the first hurdle.

Small changes in behaviour that are repeated (and scaled up) over time allow new patterns of behaviour to form so that new habits can stick.

What's your movement mood?

We make out that moving our bodies is difficult:

No time
Can't do that
Foot won't go there
Do what with the arms?!
Breathe in, fold forward, breathe out, bend knees
Roll out the mat, put on the kit
But, it's raining

Forget about being ‘good’ for a moment and throw getting it ‘right’ to one side.

Take a few minutes to check in with yourself and explore some low, moderate, and high-energy movements.

Do your wrists feel weak? Part 2: Strengthen

“I’m having trouble holding a plank position because my wrists do not feel strong enough”.

Yes, tell me about it!

Not only have I learned how to deal with my own ‘weak-feeling wrists’ over the years (and succeeded in ditching the wrist tape, wrist straps, and wrist supports), having wrists that don’t ‘feel strong enough’ is such a common experience that I decided to share a whole host of ideas in an attempt to help you out.

This post is part of a series designed to give you more options than:

‘Just skip it’
‘Put your knees down’, or
‘Do child’s pose instead’

Because? We’re adults goddammit! We can deal with things and learn to do stuff we used to find too difficult.

You can start this series in any order, you don’t need to perfect one set of options before trying out the next. Simultaneously working on mobility and strength, plus learning to adapt what you need to adapt, is a solid approach for most people without an acute injury. (Do your wrists feel like they’re about to fall off? You need a doctor, not a yoga teacher.)

Do your wrists feel weak? Part 1: Mobilise

If your wrists feel weak, taking part in a floor-based movement (or fitness) class will probably be a frustrating experience. Even in beginner-level classes, you are likely to find many positions that require you to place some bodyweight through your hands, like:

table (all fours) and cat-cow
downward dog and upward dog
plank and push-up.

If you have trouble holding (or starting in) any of these positions, you are presented with limited options to make things more manageable:

Skip it
Spend less time there and/or
Bend your knees/place your knees down on the floor.

All of these options are valid. They might suit you and what you are trying to achieve perfectly well, and they could be very appropriate ways to keep your body moving while coping with a flare-up, or accommodating an injury. They are not options to be scoffed at, or to make you feel less than.

However (really just a nice way to avoid saying ‘but’), if these are your limited options simply because you don't know what else you could try, keep reading.

This blog series is going to give you some extra and alternative options to consider.

"How should yoga feel? Just stretchy?"

I've been delving into the murky world of internet forums (I have my reasons) and came across a thread on the modern source of all wisdom (Mumsnet) that began with:

'I realise this is a ridiculous question but I’ve never really ‘got’ yoga. I’ve tried a good 3/4 times with Adriene [the YouTube sensation] and even though I am so keen to love it I just haven’t.
But my question is how should it feel? Just stretchy? There was one pose where I had to hook one knee then put my hands behind it and pull which felt very stretchy in my hamstring but I was a bit like ‘oh is this right?’ - it wasn’t painful just different.'

Speed date your hamstrings

A little anatomy knowledge can go a long way

I teach a lot of very smart people and yet, a lot of these people lack a basic understanding of how their bodies work.

Why? Because most of us weren’t taught this stuff. Only a small amount of human anatomy and physiology is taught at school; a little more is taught at upper secondary level if you opt to take a GCSE in PE, but — as someone who only really discovered that they could enjoy anything remotely sporty (let alone develop a ‘physical education’) until their mid-twenties — I certainly didn’t opt for one of those.

Anatomy can be a very dry topic with lots of complex and hard to remember names. But — having learned a lot about bodies and how they work — I also know that gaining knowledge about ourselves can go a long way, especially if it's relevant to who we are, the lives we lead, the activities we do, the ideas and beliefs we currently hold.

Knowing more about our body (the workings of its many muscles and joints, plus all the other amazing stuff it gets on with in the background) can help us make sense of how our body feels (and how we feel in our body).

If getting our nerd on wasn't reason enough, that knowledge can also save us time by helping us to make more informed choices about how we move.

Are your hamstrings a mystery?

It is very common for people to think about their hamstrings in terms of a feeling.

When I recently asked my class to define what the hamstrings were, their responses were general (both in sensation and in terms of location):

"That's easy. They're the things that hurt when I bend forward."
"They're the things at the top of the back of my thighs."

I would wager that every single yoga and movement teacher the world over has heard people talk more about their hamstrings than almost any other topic.

And yet, these words crop-up over and over again: tight, sore, stretch, more.

I think the hamstrings seem to feel like more of a problem because what they are and what they do remains a mystery to most people.