Protecting Our Yeses
I rarely look for the closest parking spot. I usually park toward the back of the lot and walk.
When we are on a cruise ship, I take the stairs whenever I can.
These aren’t things I do because I am particularly disciplined. I do them because I can.
I am grateful to be able to do these things. At some point in our lives, what once felt ordinary may not feel so ordinary anymore.
Years ago, I came across a simple way of thinking about the physical side of healthy aging. It focused on four pillars:
Endurance. Strength. Balance. Flexibility.
I don’t remember exactly where I first read about them, but it was probably ten years ago. Unlike the hundreds of other health tips I’ve encountered and promptly forgotten, these stayed with me.
Of course these aren’t the only things to consider when it comes to our health. Nutrition matters. So do sleep and preventive care. Our mental, emotional and spiritual health matter. Relationships matter.
Don’t worry. We’ll get to all of that in due time.
But these four pillars aren’t just ideas that appealed to me. They are considered important parts of maintaining physical health and mobility by both the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and the National Institute on Aging.
So what do these four pillars actually mean?
Endurance—or what many of us think of as cardio—is movement that asks the heart and lungs to work harder.
Strength is our muscles’ ability to exert force and handle resistance.
Balance is our ability to stay in control of our body’s position, whether we’re standing still or in motion.
Flexibility is how freely our joints and muscles move through their range of motion.
Of the four, strength is probably the one I’ve neglected most. I used to enjoy going to the gym and flexing those muscles, but over the years it slipped down my priority list.
Balance happens to be my favorite of the four.
Long before I thought much about staying steady on my feet, I gave a lot of thought to life balance. I even made up a little ditty years ago that summed up my thoughts completely:
A little work,
A little play.
A little go,
A little stay.
I can feel, almost on a visceral level, when my life gets out of whack and needs some attention.
All of this brings me to the question I keep coming back to in my own mind. Understanding each pillar is one thing. But what do they mean to me in practical terms? What do I still want to be able to do fifteen years from now—and can tending these four pillars help me hold on to those things?
I want to walk. I absolutely want to walk. Walking lets me experience a place rather than merely pass through it. I’ve walked through many neighborhoods not my own and noticed things I would have missed through the window of a car. Walking clears my mind, feeds my curiosity and turns my attention outward.
I want to climb stairs. Carry things. Bend over. Reach up. Cook. Clean. Drive. I want to keep doing the ordinary things that allow me to take care of myself and live independently for as long as I can.
I want to keep saying yes.
Yes, I’ll go.
Yes, I’ll walk.
Yes, I’ll take the stairs.
Yes, I can carry that.
Yes, let’s see what is around the corner.
Maybe tending these four pillars can help us protect the yeses.
We can make thoughtful choices about our health, but we can’t control every outcome.
And yet.
We get to participate in caring for ourselves.
My friend Karen was never much of a gym person, although she stayed active in the normal course of life. She decided she wanted to do a little more and tried karate. She loved it enough that karate became a regular part of her life.
My friend Victoria already enjoyed working out when she discovered rowing. She joined a novice team and found a whole new way to move that she loves.
My cousin Jennifer plays on an indoor volleyball team. She gets to move, have fun and meet new people.
The point is, what works for one of us may look completely different from what works for another. And each intentional choice is a way of participating in our own well-being.
Simply moving through our day uses these four pillars. Tending them intentionally means asking a little more of ourselves.
Walking to the mailbox is movement; adding a short, brisk walk gets the heart pumping and asks more of our cardiovascular system.
Carrying groceries uses our muscles; adding light weights or a short strength workout challenges those muscles a little more.
Standing on one foot to pull on a pair of pants uses balance; practicing that same one-legged stance for a few seconds gives our balance a little workout of its own.
Tying our shoes requires flexibility; taking a few minutes to stretch helps us maintain our range of motion.
That doesn’t mean every bit of movement needs to become a workout. Good grief. Who wants to live like that?
It simply means that every once in a while, I can check in. How do I feel? Tired? Weak? Shaky? Stiff? Is there something my body is trying to tell me?
Not as a report card or another reason to feel guilty. Just as a way of noticing.
And if something could use a little attention, I can decide what to do next.
And if you’re thinking, That is fine for people who have always exercised, but I’ve never really done any of this—it’s not too late to begin.
Start where you are. Find something that works for your body and your circumstances. If health problems or limitations make you unsure about what is safe, ask for guidance.
Maybe these four pillars stayed with me because they’re simple. I understand them. I can tend to them. And I can see their value.
This isn’t another exercise routine. And it isn’t someone telling me what I must do to become or stay healthy. It’s simply a reminder that caring for my body—and making my own choices of what that looks like—can help me keep saying yes to the things that make my life whole.



I love the shift in mentality that this evokes. Baby steps towards something new and different… and saying yes because I can, not just because I should. Thank you for sharing!