Intelligent Yoga Reduces Physical Distress

Not long ago, I clipped an article from my local newspaper and saved it, though I did not actually read it until recently. The piece, titled “Body never forgets yoga theory, but I forgot about the pain,” was part of an ongoing series written by Lisa Pierot, a woman living with metastatic breast cancer.

Two things about her writing immediately struck me. First, Lisa lives every day with a condition that feels like a ticking time bomb. Second, despite the weight of her diagnosis, she refuses to adopt the mindset of a victim. Though she downplays her own bravery—describing herself on her website as simply a survivor sharing her story—I see something far deeper. She is a genuine inspiration. She perceives life’s fragility with uncommon clarity—much more clearly than I do as someone living with multiple sclerosis—yet she refuses to allow illness to dictate how fully she lives.

Her column described stumbling upon an old yoga book she had used in college twenty-five years earlier. Remembering how easily she had mastered its twenty-eight exercises back then—and the profound sense of physical, emotional, and spiritual grounding that followed—she decided to reconnect with the practice.

Hoping to recreate those same feelings, she "tried" to practice yoga just as she had when she was younger. But her body no longer responded the same way. The harder she pushed, the more pain she experienced. Unfortunately, for the majority of us, this is a trap into which far too many people fall.

I was particularly moved by her sharp wit—especially lines like, "I am no quitter! I’m going the distance! I’m not ruling that out as a possibility,” followed by, "I will get this if it kills me." Yet beneath the humor, I picked up on an underlying, understandable frustration: the realization that the very practice that had served her so well in college seemed to be failing her when she needed it most. Ironically, the fierce determination and drive that helped her cope with her illness were actively working against her on the yoga mat.

Throughout my career, formal studies in anatomy, physiology, and kinesiology have provided me with a strong theoretical foundation. But in truth, I have learned far more about how yoga actually functions—and why standard approaches fail when the body is compromised—through my own experience with MS and the aging process.

One truth has become unmistakably clear: when our bodies are distressed, we only accelerate that distress when trying to force improvement through aggressive physical activity. That is not to say we shouldn’t exercise; movement is essential if we want to maintain and improve our health. But when health is compromised, we must work more intelligently, definitely not harder.

When illness or injury is present, exercise must be adjusted and adapted to release tension rather than exacerbate it. After decades studying movement mechanics and human physiology, I continually return to adaptive yoga. When practiced with intelligence and subtle awareness, it maximizes physical potential while systematically reducing both physical and emotional distress.

Recovery Yoga is not about conquering the body or reclaiming a youth long past; it is about learning to listen to where you are right now. For Lisa—and for anyone navigating serious illness or injury—the path forward isn’t found in fighting through the pain with sheer willpower. It begins when we drop the struggle, honor our current limits, and let progressive movement become a source of relief rather than another battle to win.