Forget the hype and the hippy claptrap. yoga’s the most powerful anti-ageing weapon ever invented... and it's not just for New Age nuts!
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My name is Carla and I am a
middle-aged woman who drinks rather a lot of wine, smokes half a dozen
cigarettes a day, and carries an unnecessary amount of weight round her
middle.
So far, so ordinary. However, I also stand on my head unsupported in the middle of a room most days.
I resisted doing yoga for the longest time, associating it either with skinny celebrities decked out in Sweaty Betty tank-tops toting Gucci mats, or hippy airheads who liked chanting on the beach.
But then I turned 50. With this milestone came emotional instability and physical fatigue.
At 50, I developed a morbid fear of ageing — specifically of ageing badly — and death.
I couldn’t control death, but
there was surely something to be done to reduce my chances of being
bent double with a stick, of being too tired to go out, too weak to
travel, too dependent on others?
Yoga didn’t immediately present itself as a solution. I tried a couple of classes in village halls and was discouraged by the fact that I could no longer touch my toes, that my breathing was shallow and ragged when I exerted myself and that my back felt as stiff as a board.
It was an appalling effort just to raise my arms in the air, and standing on one leg was obviously out of the question.
In fact, it wasn’t until 2007, when my cousin asked me to accompany her to a yoga sanctuary in India, that I started to take it at all seriously.
The yoga that we did every day at dawn was gentle and structured. The stretching out slowly became enjoyable rather than a chore. My persistent backache was massaged and eased by the twists we did, and my dusty old muscles started to respond. It was both stimulating and relaxing.
I got better at it and therefore wanted to do more of it — and that, of course, is the key. All right, it helped that we were in India, that it was warm, that we were eating delicious vegetarian food and not drinking alcohol. It helped that we didn’t have to do the school run, go to a meeting or cook breakfast.
I admit these were ideal circumstances, but the experience gave me the motivation to explore yoga further when I got home.
I have the kind of obsessive personality combined with journalistic scepticism that dictates I won’t do anything until I’ve researched it, approved it and told everyone what I’m about to do.
So it was with yoga. I needed to know what the fuss was all about and whether you could really transform your life.
Here’s what I found: scientifically and medically, most of the claims made for yoga practice stand up.
The benefits on both body and mind are legion. The anti-ageing impact is profound.
Doing yoga reduces back pain, improves balance and muscle strength and reverses muscle loss. It improves symptoms of rheumatoid arthritis, menopausal symptoms, even the control of type 2 diabetes.
It decreases anxiety and depression. It hugely enhances flexibility. There are endless sound academic sources to back up these statements as well as the testimony of countless practitioners.
In 1990, headlines were made when a San Francisco cardiologist, Dr Dean Ornish, showed that heart disease can be reversed through yoga combined with dietary changes.
To the astonishment of the medical establishment, he proved that advanced heart patients could actually shrink the fatty plaque deposits that were progressively blocking their coronary arteries.
Instead of taking the conventional route of drugs and surgery, Ornish’s study group used simple yoga exercises, meditation and a low cholesterol diet.
His study, The Lifestyle Heart Trial, published in The Lancet, is often cited because mainstream medicine had never before acknowledged that heart disease could be reversed once it had started.
And it’s not just heart disease. One of the most interesting books I read which finally convinced me of the miracle of yoga was Yoga As Medicine by a U.S. doctor, Timothy McCall.
Like many, Dr McCall came to yoga in middle age and found it 'incredibly challenging'. He persevered and, astonished by the changes yoga wrought in his own body — and mental state — he began investigating its use for people suffering from a variety of medical conditions, from stress to degenerative arthritis.
It is worth quoting this passage from
the book: 'As someone who had been an MD for more than 20 years, I can
tell you that yoga is quite simply the most powerful system of overall
health and wellbeing I have ever seen.'
By now I was convinced. What’s more, I began to realise that although the ancient practice of yoga seems to have been hijacked by impossibly beautiful, thin and hip fashionistas, as well as new age nuts, it is actually for everyone.
There is no one who would not benefit from hoicking themselves off the sofa and stretching out in yoga poses on the rug.
In fact, I would go so far as to say the more you don’t think you could do it or need it, the more you should try it.
Different people swear by different styles, but for the beginner the best, most common is gentle Hatha yoga in which you are introduced to the basic yoga poses known as 'asanas'.
There is no leaping about as there is in the fast-paced aerobic Ashtanga Yoga. And you don’t risk heart failure by practising in a very hot room (over 100 degrees) — a method pioneered by Bikram Choudhury and beloved by the energetic.
I had the good fortune to find a yoga class that suited me locally and it was a revelation. At first, I was horrified and frustrated by my inability to do what others in the class could do — some in their 70s. I’d been good at gym at school, but the wholesale neglect of my body since I was about 12 became swiftly evident.
After a few weeks, though, I improved dramatically. My 'muscle memory' returned: my body appeared to recall what it’s supposed to be able to do.
I learned that I could use the way I breathed to help me move into the poses more easily (learning to breathe properly is central to yoga philosophy) and my confidence rose.
I even became quite cocky, looking around the class when we tried the downward dog position — where your body makes an inverted V with your hands and feet on the floor — to see if my ankles were closer to the ground than anyone else’s (for which I was rightly reprimanded by the instructor: 'It’s not a competition, Carla!').
It felt so good to be stretched
out. My back, in particular, was grateful. Yogis believe that you are
as young as your spine is flexible and my spine had evidently been
crying out for some exercise. I could hardly wait to lie on my back and
swing my legs over to each side to release the tension.
I soon realised this was the most anti-ageing thing I had ever done. All the asanas are based on a sound knowledge of human anatomy and physiology.
By placing the body in certain positions, specific nerves, organs and glands are stimulated. These propel freshly oxygenated blood to flow more freely, relieving joint pain and removing toxins from the internal organs.
Inverted postures such as downward dog, shoulder stand and headstand are especially beneficial — causing blood to stimulate the all-important thyroid gland and boost the immune system.
I was so overjoyed to find an exercise class that didn’t bore me rigid that I made a list of all the things I’d learned to do in yoga: stretch every single muscle; take my own body weight on my hands; balance (crucial for oldies); breathe properly through my nose; sit up and stand up straight; remember how to relax (the relaxation period at the end of each session is heaven).
When the body works properly, the mind follows, and now my unquiet mind monkeys around much less. My insomnia has eased. The only downside? I turned into a yoga bore, telling everyone I met that they had to take it up.
Despite calling myself a committed convert, there are still some aspects of yoga and the yoga industry that I take issue with. The first is the whole 'spiritual' side of the discipline. I am uncomfortable with the happy-clappy, touchy-feely, new age industry that has grown up around yoga.
Teachers will often tell you that practice is a journey towards self-realisation and the physical discipline is just a tiny part of it.
They implore you to 'feel the divine cosmic energy', to 'connect' with your 'third eye' and 'focus on your chakras'.
Now I know the chakra is a concept that is part of many spiritual traditions — the idea is that they are the energy centres around our bodies, and come in seven colours — but they don’t actually exist.
It annoys the heck out of me when yoga teachers mention them in the same way as your hamstring muscles.
Yoga websites are full of online shops selling scented candles and meditation cushions stuffed with organic buckwheat alongside a whole heap of other twaddle — horoscopes and crystals, for example.
This ‘widespread mystical schlock’ — as one U.S. journalist describes it — is as off-putting as the shameless commercialisation of the multi-million-pound yoga industry.
One in ten Americans now practises yoga — a percentage that is growing year on year. Merchandise such as high-end yoga apparel has become big business, and it’s ironic that many yogis see no contradiction between attaining spiritual nirvana and the ringing of earthly cash registers.
Yoga teachers and self-styled gurus such as Bikram Choudury — who created the idea of yoga in overheated studios and claims to be a combination of Elvis and Jesus — have turned themselves into ‘brands’ and made a fortune.
Even the gloriously rebellious Tara Stiles, the coolest yoga teacher in New York, whose devotees include Jane Fonda and alternative medicine guru Deepak Chopra, has built a profitable empire out of rejecting every spiritual aspect of yoga and concentrating on the body beautiful.
But she talks sense. ‘People need yoga, not another religious leader,’ she says. Her point is that yoga should not be an elitist cult for the few. It’s for everyone. Try it and see.
So far, so ordinary. However, I also stand on my head unsupported in the middle of a room most days.
I resisted doing yoga for the longest time, associating it either with skinny celebrities decked out in Sweaty Betty tank-tops toting Gucci mats, or hippy airheads who liked chanting on the beach.
Yoga: it's definitely not just for hippies... as Carla McKay is intent on proving
At 50, I developed a morbid fear of ageing — specifically of ageing badly — and death.
Yoga didn’t immediately present itself as a solution. I tried a couple of classes in village halls and was discouraged by the fact that I could no longer touch my toes, that my breathing was shallow and ragged when I exerted myself and that my back felt as stiff as a board.
It was an appalling effort just to raise my arms in the air, and standing on one leg was obviously out of the question.
In fact, it wasn’t until 2007, when my cousin asked me to accompany her to a yoga sanctuary in India, that I started to take it at all seriously.
The yoga that we did every day at dawn was gentle and structured. The stretching out slowly became enjoyable rather than a chore. My persistent backache was massaged and eased by the twists we did, and my dusty old muscles started to respond. It was both stimulating and relaxing.
I got better at it and therefore wanted to do more of it — and that, of course, is the key. All right, it helped that we were in India, that it was warm, that we were eating delicious vegetarian food and not drinking alcohol. It helped that we didn’t have to do the school run, go to a meeting or cook breakfast.
I admit these were ideal circumstances, but the experience gave me the motivation to explore yoga further when I got home.
I have the kind of obsessive personality combined with journalistic scepticism that dictates I won’t do anything until I’ve researched it, approved it and told everyone what I’m about to do.
And stretch! Carla shows off the muscle toning (and back bending) camel pose
Here’s what I found: scientifically and medically, most of the claims made for yoga practice stand up.
The benefits on both body and mind are legion. The anti-ageing impact is profound.
Doing yoga reduces back pain, improves balance and muscle strength and reverses muscle loss. It improves symptoms of rheumatoid arthritis, menopausal symptoms, even the control of type 2 diabetes.
It decreases anxiety and depression. It hugely enhances flexibility. There are endless sound academic sources to back up these statements as well as the testimony of countless practitioners.
In 1990, headlines were made when a San Francisco cardiologist, Dr Dean Ornish, showed that heart disease can be reversed through yoga combined with dietary changes.
To the astonishment of the medical establishment, he proved that advanced heart patients could actually shrink the fatty plaque deposits that were progressively blocking their coronary arteries.
Instead of taking the conventional route of drugs and surgery, Ornish’s study group used simple yoga exercises, meditation and a low cholesterol diet.
His study, The Lifestyle Heart Trial, published in The Lancet, is often cited because mainstream medicine had never before acknowledged that heart disease could be reversed once it had started.
And it’s not just heart disease. One of the most interesting books I read which finally convinced me of the miracle of yoga was Yoga As Medicine by a U.S. doctor, Timothy McCall.
Like many, Dr McCall came to yoga in middle age and found it 'incredibly challenging'. He persevered and, astonished by the changes yoga wrought in his own body — and mental state — he began investigating its use for people suffering from a variety of medical conditions, from stress to degenerative arthritis.
Universal: Yoga really is for everyone - no matter how old, young or pregnant you are
By now I was convinced. What’s more, I began to realise that although the ancient practice of yoga seems to have been hijacked by impossibly beautiful, thin and hip fashionistas, as well as new age nuts, it is actually for everyone.
There is no one who would not benefit from hoicking themselves off the sofa and stretching out in yoga poses on the rug.
In fact, I would go so far as to say the more you don’t think you could do it or need it, the more you should try it.
Different people swear by different styles, but for the beginner the best, most common is gentle Hatha yoga in which you are introduced to the basic yoga poses known as 'asanas'.
There is no leaping about as there is in the fast-paced aerobic Ashtanga Yoga. And you don’t risk heart failure by practising in a very hot room (over 100 degrees) — a method pioneered by Bikram Choudhury and beloved by the energetic.
I had the good fortune to find a yoga class that suited me locally and it was a revelation. At first, I was horrified and frustrated by my inability to do what others in the class could do — some in their 70s. I’d been good at gym at school, but the wholesale neglect of my body since I was about 12 became swiftly evident.
After a few weeks, though, I improved dramatically. My 'muscle memory' returned: my body appeared to recall what it’s supposed to be able to do.
I learned that I could use the way I breathed to help me move into the poses more easily (learning to breathe properly is central to yoga philosophy) and my confidence rose.
I even became quite cocky, looking around the class when we tried the downward dog position — where your body makes an inverted V with your hands and feet on the floor — to see if my ankles were closer to the ground than anyone else’s (for which I was rightly reprimanded by the instructor: 'It’s not a competition, Carla!').
Popular: Although invented (and perfected) in India, yoga has become a popular pursuit all over the world
I soon realised this was the most anti-ageing thing I had ever done. All the asanas are based on a sound knowledge of human anatomy and physiology.
By placing the body in certain positions, specific nerves, organs and glands are stimulated. These propel freshly oxygenated blood to flow more freely, relieving joint pain and removing toxins from the internal organs.
Inverted postures such as downward dog, shoulder stand and headstand are especially beneficial — causing blood to stimulate the all-important thyroid gland and boost the immune system.
I was so overjoyed to find an exercise class that didn’t bore me rigid that I made a list of all the things I’d learned to do in yoga: stretch every single muscle; take my own body weight on my hands; balance (crucial for oldies); breathe properly through my nose; sit up and stand up straight; remember how to relax (the relaxation period at the end of each session is heaven).
When the body works properly, the mind follows, and now my unquiet mind monkeys around much less. My insomnia has eased. The only downside? I turned into a yoga bore, telling everyone I met that they had to take it up.
Despite calling myself a committed convert, there are still some aspects of yoga and the yoga industry that I take issue with. The first is the whole 'spiritual' side of the discipline. I am uncomfortable with the happy-clappy, touchy-feely, new age industry that has grown up around yoga.
Teachers will often tell you that practice is a journey towards self-realisation and the physical discipline is just a tiny part of it.
They implore you to 'feel the divine cosmic energy', to 'connect' with your 'third eye' and 'focus on your chakras'.
Now I know the chakra is a concept that is part of many spiritual traditions — the idea is that they are the energy centres around our bodies, and come in seven colours — but they don’t actually exist.
No crystals please! Although Carla loves the fitness side, gurus can keep the New Age paraphenalia
Yoga websites are full of online shops selling scented candles and meditation cushions stuffed with organic buckwheat alongside a whole heap of other twaddle — horoscopes and crystals, for example.
This ‘widespread mystical schlock’ — as one U.S. journalist describes it — is as off-putting as the shameless commercialisation of the multi-million-pound yoga industry.
One in ten Americans now practises yoga — a percentage that is growing year on year. Merchandise such as high-end yoga apparel has become big business, and it’s ironic that many yogis see no contradiction between attaining spiritual nirvana and the ringing of earthly cash registers.
Yoga teachers and self-styled gurus such as Bikram Choudury — who created the idea of yoga in overheated studios and claims to be a combination of Elvis and Jesus — have turned themselves into ‘brands’ and made a fortune.
Even the gloriously rebellious Tara Stiles, the coolest yoga teacher in New York, whose devotees include Jane Fonda and alternative medicine guru Deepak Chopra, has built a profitable empire out of rejecting every spiritual aspect of yoga and concentrating on the body beautiful.
But she talks sense. ‘People need yoga, not another religious leader,’ she says. Her point is that yoga should not be an elitist cult for the few. It’s for everyone. Try it and see.
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