What I Learned From One of My Most Challenging Yoga Poses

Since I started practicing yoga five years ago, I’ve noticed there are countless poses that I find challenging, mostly the ones that target my sad, tight hamstrings. On the other hand, the ones I’ve always gravitated toward are those that involve generous foot and ankle stretches. Squat? Let’s go. Thunderbolt? I’m all in. Reclining Hero? I’m ready to relax.

That is, until I met the one foot stretch that humbled me: Toe Squat.

The first time I tried Toe Squat was during an online yin yoga class. The instructor sat back on his heels in what I first thought was Thunderbolt (Vajrasana), but unlike that classic pose, his toes were curled under him so that his weight was on the balls of his feet and toes. He set a timer for three minutes, cautioning that it might be uncomfortable. At the time I was relatively new to yoga and thought nothing of this warning as I tried to replicate his position.

My immediate reaction once I was in the pose? “OUCH.” The bottoms of my feet ached from my toes to my heels. After a few breaths, that ache escalated into a burn. To relieve the sensation, I leaned forward and rested my arms on the seat of my couch. “Time’s got to be almost up,” I coached myself. “Just a little longer.”

When I was certain my toes would snap off, I checked the video: It had been only 20 seconds. I called it quits shortly after.

Ego bruised, I internally dubbed the pose “The Toe Breaker.” It was impossible, I decided, and I hoped I’d never come across it again. However, this dream was promptly squashed as I explored more online yoga classes. Call it the Baader-Meinhof Phenomenon, but now that I knew (and hated) Toe Squat, suddenly it was seemingly everywhere.

Since it seemed that I couldn’t control when Toe Squat appeared, I had to decide how I wanted to show up to it. I reeeally wanted to skip it. And let’s be honest, since I was practicing at home, no one would know I was avoiding Toe Squat except my cat (and he wouldn’t tell).

Still, I couldn’t bring myself to avoid it completely. For me, that was based on principle. I’ve always hated backing down from challenges and, for that reason, struggle to walk away from them. I’d played sports my whole life, so I was familiar with the cliché, “No pain, no gain,” which adorned the posters that lined the walls of my high school weight room. Practicing Toe Squat felt like it could use its own yogic version of this phrase—perhaps, “No discomfort, no growth.” I wouldn’t let this pose best me.

Instead of skipping Toe Squat the next time it was cued, I gritted my teeth and held the pose for as long as I could muster. Over time, the real game-changer was my mental approach. Instead of counting down the seconds until I could come out of Toe Squat, I counted breaths instead—inhaling for four seconds and exhaling for eight, over and over again. Slowly, 30 seconds began to feel manageable. Then 40. And 50. Sometimes I made it an entire minute. Sure, it was tempting to curl up on the floor and cry a little after, but my discomfort faded quickly once I came out of the pose. Yes, I was pushing myself, but not too far. And doing so led to results I never could’ve anticipated.

After practicing consistently for a few months, the health of my feet seemed to transform. I’d spent decades struggling with high arches—wearing inserts, buying supportive shoes, and searching for foot stretches that would relieve pain. Not much helped until Toe Squat. My feet no longer ached when I forgot to wear my inserts. I hadn’t changed anything else in my life, so I had to (begrudgingly) give credit where credit was due: Toe Squat is challenging on the mat, but it alleviated so much of the discomfort I experienced off the mat.

It’s been a few years since I first encountered Toe Squat and I won’t lie—it’s still not exactly comfortable. But I always practice it when a teacher cues it. Knowing when to lean into difficulty is as important as knowing when to back off, both for safety’s sake but also for personal development. For me, Toe Squat is a reminder of the benefits of leaning in when the time is right, and a lesson in listening to my body when it says, “Don’t give up just yet.”