My family was at a birthday party the other day, and my two year old was sitting at a low table about to eat a cupcake. I squatted down to help her navigate the icing and heard, “Wow! You made that (squat) look so easy! I could never do that, even when I was your age”.
Here’s the thing: I couldn’t squat two years ago.
Well, I could “squat” two years ago, I just couldn’t do the version of the squat that impressed her so much. It was not in my arsenal. Not even close.
I felt that it was probably possible. I am an eternal optimist (this is apparently why I’m always late). I didn’t actually know if I’d be able to do a full squat. I was REALLY far off being able to do anything resembling it. What I did know was that my hip mobility was the pits and my hamstrings were so tight they were practically stone. I figured I could start with these limitations and see what would happen.
I also knew (and here’s the most important piece), that in between standing vertically and fully squatting, there is an infinite number of squat increments that I could achieve. I may never achieve a full squat (I’m still working on it), but I could certainly IMPROVE my squat.
I’m generalizing here a bit, but as a society, we are really quite focused on the end goal. We assign a much larger value to the prize at the end than to the process. Some people are naturally talented or structured in a certain way that allows the effortless achievement of impressive goals. Others are driven, determined, and focused. They practice, train, and try for years before they achieve that same goal. To the spectator, to the observer, the same goal was met. They don’t know the story, and they don’t know the difference in improvement and achievement.
My squat looked effortless (and on good days it is).
What my observer didn’t know is that I have been working on that squat for two years. I’ve mobilized, stretched, rolled, strengthened, and bolstered my way through enough of those infinite increments to have something that was closer to the full squat I was after. I modified my environment by having low stools to sit on, by getting a squatty potty, by using towels to change the angle on the seat in the car so I could maintain an untucked pelvis. I hit a wall. I went months without improvements. I went months without trying to improve. I went to a structural integration practitioner and made a big gain. I regained my optimism and started working on it again in earnest. I changed my self-talk from “I can’t do it” to “I can’t do it YET”. (That little word is pretty powerful. I learned about Carol Dweck and her Growth Mindset philosophy in my previous life as a teacher. You can learn more here.)
It’s a “most” day today. Here’s my bolstered squat as I work on this post!
On a good day, I have an effortless squat that I can maintain easily for minutes. On most days I’m working too much with my back, the front of my lower legs, and my neck (obviously?!) and need to bolster a bit to untuck my pelvis and be relaxed. On bad days, it’s too much work so I perch on a small stool, or chose a different position.
Bottom line? My ability to squat is a work in progress that exists because I decided I could improve. That, in a nutshell, is what this work is all about: believe that you can increase ability/mobility as you age and it becomes possible.
If you can’t do a squat (YET!!) and want to learn how to work towards it, Katy Bowman’s work is absolutely invaluable. Check out her posts, it’s as easy as 1, 2, 3. Happy squatting!