When I finally decided I was going to my very first Wanderlust Festival at Whistler this summer, I made a vow to myself to take it seriously. I would treat it like training for a yoga marathon, I told myself. I would train and build up my yoga muscles to prepare my body for the five consecutive days of yoga, hiking, stand up paddleboarding, and whatever else I might come across which might take a physical toll on my body.
To celebrate, I purchased a year of unlimited yoga outright from my local studio, a level of monetary commitment which for me was an extraordinarily rare display of certainty. I celebrated my first month of unlimited yoga with a fierce concentration, completing 20 classes in a month. Things were looking good; I still had months left to prepare and I had already proved to myself that I was capable of preparing for Wanderlust in the way in which I’d intended.
Flash forward to today, July 27th. Wanderlust is a mere three days away. During the months of May, June and July I’ve completed about 8 classes a month, averaging a mere two classes a week. This was not my intention. I’ve spent much of the last few months feeling sorry for myself or, worse yet, mad at myself. This was not the plan. It’s been easy to get mad, knowing that I’m capable of completing 20 class monthly challenges in my sleep. What’s been harder is meeting myself where I am and cutting myself slack. I completed many of my 20 class-a-month challenges while working for a fitness company and working 30-35 hour workweeks. I now find myself working 40+ hour workweeks, often too exhausted from logging so many hours standing during the day to manage a yoga class post-work. I have also been supplementing my two yoga classes a week with semi-regular spin classes, hikes, and 30 minute walks each way to and from work at least a few days a week. And despite all of that, I had done yoga consistently–two classes a week is considerably more than none.
This struggle, this idea of letting go of expectations and celebrating success no matter how small, is no easy practice; however, ironically not meeting my fitness goals to prepare myself for Wanderlust has forced me to confront an important emotional practice–meeting myself where I am and letting go of expectation. You see, I am a planner. I take comfort in knowing what’s ahead, researching to keep the anxiety of the unknown at bay. This is to be my first Wanderlust festival, an experience which I know will be life-changing. What I don’t know is what (or who) I might come face to face with there, except that I can’t know what will happen. And now, just maybe, that will be that much easier for me to confront head-on. So here I come, Wanderlust. My body and mind are ready for you.
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