(Photo: Greg Pappas | Pexels)
If you’re anything like me, you spend a decent amount of time fantasizing about the perfect morning routine. Picture your eyes fluttering open with the sunrise (no alarm clock needed!) and your body floating out of bed thanks to the impeccable night of sleep you had (no getting up to pee!). You make your way to your yoga mat, which you had the foresight to set up the night before, and take an unhurried streeeeetch before you even look at your phone or speak to another living soul.
We’re also alike if this literally never happens the way you picture it. Despite my idealist imagination, my mornings are typically spent snoozing my alarm, taming the top of my head into something resembling hair, and remembering *that thing* that I was supposed to do yesterday at work and rushing off to do it. From here, the day whooshes by—as if I black out in a blur of productivity—and it comes at the expense of my body feeling neglected, stiff, and disconnected from the rest of me.
One day, when the only movements I’d practiced were buckling my seatbelt and picking up a pen I dropped off the floor (that’s kinda Standing Forward Bend, right?), I happened upon the one stretch that requires the least amount of physical or mental effort—and it sorta changed the game.
I was about to get into bed and was tired of letting days pass and not tending to my stiff lower back and creaky shoulders. But due to sheer exhaustion, I simply could not bring myself to roll out my yoga mat—and my hardwood floor would wreak more havoc on my body than not stretching at all.
Somewhere between climbing into bed and fighting sleep to do some kind of a stretch, I came into a bedside version of Tabletop. From there, it seemed as if my body knew what to do next. Arching my back and lifting my gaze, I took a deep inhalation in Cow Pose. Then I let out a satisfying sigh as I rounded my back and dropped my chin in Cat Pose.
Physically, the front and back body stretches soothed the muscles I always feel need the most attention. Beyond that, they also helped me breathe in a sense of calm and breathe out all the stress of the day, including the guilt of not doing more for my body.
To this day, nighttime Cat-Cow is the lowest maintenance stretch that gives me a moment of chill before getting under the covers, and signals to my body that, yes, I still care about you. Even if I wait until the absolute last minute of the day to let you know.