The Floor Challenge
Here’s a little experiment. Not an exercise, not a test, and certainly not a competition. Think of it as a conversation with your body.
Find a safe, open space and, in your own time, try three different ways of starting your journey back to your feet. First, sit on the floor and get up. Then, lie flat on your back and get up. Finally, lie on your stomach and get up. Take your time with each one. Use your hands if you need to. There is no prize for speed and absolutely no reason to prove anything.
Now comes the interesting part. Ask yourself: Which was easiest? Which was hardest? And why?
Perhaps getting up from your back was surprisingly difficult. Maybe your stomach version required some maneuvering that you haven’t attempted in years. Perhaps sitting on the floor and standing was almost effortless. Or maybe one of them made you realize that your body has developed a preference for one side.
Don’t just record the result. Think about what you felt along the way. Did you need your arms to help? Did you struggle to get one knee underneath you? Did your hips or ankles seem reluctant to cooperate? Did you feel unsteady once you were upright? Did you have to stop and figure out what to do next?
That’s the exercise. Paying attention.
We spend a great deal of time exercising without paying much attention to what our bodies are actually telling us. We count steps, miles, repetitions and minutes. We watch the numbers on our watches. But sometimes the most interesting information isn’t a number. It’s discovering that something you once did without thinking now requires a little planning—or discovering, to your pleasant surprise, that you can still do it effortlessly.
The three versions also tell you something different about your body. Getting up from your back requires you to move from a completely horizontal position and find a way to bring your body upright. Getting up from your stomach requires a different sequence of movements. Starting from a seated position gives you a head start. The differences aren’t a judgment about your fitness; they’re clues about strength, flexibility, balance, coordination and mobility.
And here’s the good news: if you discover something that is difficult, you’ve discovered it before you necessarily need it. That’s useful information. You don’t have to conquer the difficulty today. You simply have to know that it exists.
So try the three floor positions again sometime next week. Not to beat your previous performance, but to see whether you notice anything different.
Your body has been giving you information all your life.
Maybe it’s time to listen.
Why Am I Eating?
Here’s another experiment. For one day, before you eat anything, stop for a moment and ask yourself one question: Why am I eating this?
Don’t worry. I’m not going to tell you what the correct answer is. Maybe you’re hungry. That’s an excellent reason. But perhaps you’re not hungry. Maybe it’s lunchtime and you’re eating because that’s when you normally eat. Maybe you’re about to leave the house and know you won’t have an opportunity to eat for several hours. Maybe someone has put a piece of homemade pie in front of you, and refusing it would be an act of unnecessary self-denial.
All perfectly legitimate.
The point isn’t to change what you eat. The point is to notice why you’re eating it.
You might discover that hunger is only one of the reasons you eat. You eat because it’s time to eat. You eat because you’re going somewhere. You eat because you’re with other people. You eat because something smells wonderful. You eat because you’re bored. You eat because you’re tired. You eat because you’ve always had something sweet after dinner.
And sometimes you eat because, well, there’s pie.
None of this makes you a bad eater. It makes you human.
But here’s where the experiment gets interesting. After a day of asking yourself why you’re eating, you may begin to notice how often you eat automatically. The hand reaches for the cracker before the brain has had a chance to vote. You pour the second glass because you poured the first one. You finish what’s on the plate because it’s there.
We’re remarkably good at eating without actually deciding to eat.
So don’t try to fix anything. Just notice.
If you’re hungry, eat. If you’re not hungry but know you’ll be stuck in a meeting for four hours, eat. If you’re celebrating your granddaughter’s birthday and someone hands you a piece of cake, eat it if you want it.
But occasionally pause long enough to recognize the reason: “I’m hungry.” “I won’t have another chance for several hours.” “It looks delicious.” “Everyone else is eating.” “I’m bored.”
Or perhaps the most honest answer of all: “Because I want it.”
There’s something liberating about that last answer. When we know why we’re eating, we are making a choice rather than simply following a habit.
And that’s the real challenge. Not eating perfectly. Not eating less. Not following another set of dietary rules. Just knowing what you’re doing while you’re doing it.
Sometimes awareness changes behavior all by itself. And sometimes it doesn’t. That’s okay, too.
After all, there’s still pie.
