Rest as a Skill, Part 2: Physical Rest – Discernment, Not Just Recovery
This one goes out to everyone who was told rest is lazy and taught to hustle, not heal.
Rest as a Skill: A Living Series
This is part of my ongoing series on the seven types of rest. Each piece stands alone, but together they map a fuller picture of what it means to reclaim rest as a skill—especially for those of us who’ve been taught to earn exhaustion but not renewal. Start anywhere, come as you are. We are in this together.
I was taught to push through pain. Ice the ankle. Tape it tighter. Shake it off. Be tough. Rest wasn’t the reward for work—it was the thing that made you soft.
But… what if softness is strength? What if physical rest isn’t just recovery—it’s discernment?
Intro: Redefining Physical Rest
Physical rest is often reduced to one of two extremes: either collapse after burnout or the kind of rest “earned” only after maximum exertion. In sports culture—and in many professional spaces—rest becomes conditional, something you’re allowed to have only if your body is already on the verge of shutting down.
But rest isn’t passive. It’s a choice. A skill. And, for those of us conditioned to perform through pain, it can feel harder than pushing.
If you missed the introduction to this series, check out Rest as a Skill: An Introduction for a foundation on the seven types of rest.
Where We’re Headed
This is part of my Rest as a Skill series, where I’m exploring the seven types of rest. Each one offers its own way to recharge:
Physical Rest (You’re here!)
Mental Rest
Sensory Rest
Creative Rest
Emotional Rest
Spiritual Rest
Each post stands alone, but they all come together to show how rest is the skill we need to reclaim.
Resilience is Real, but So is Recalibration
When Paige Bueckers led UConn to the 2025 national championship, she reminded the world what it looks like to return from the brink. But I wasn’t just watching her play, I was watching her discern. When to move, when to hold, when to trust her body again after years of being told it wasn’t ready.
It brought me back to my own time as a walk-on at Villanova in the early 2010s. I wasn’t the star. I didn’t get the minutes. But I was asked to stay—after I’d already graduated—to co-captain a Big East Division I Women’s Basketball team.
(Tiny aside for the women’s basketball obsessed—back in the day, Nova’s division rivals were UConn, Notre Dame, and Marquette. By my senior year, these foes were stacked with the likes of Stewie, Big Mama Stef Dolson, Kiah Stokes, Skylar Diggins, Jewell Loyd, Kayla McBride, and Natisha Hiedeman (& bonus fun fact: current feisty WNBA 3-point shooting standout Marina Mabrey has an older sister who was also playing ND my senior year and she also dusted us from the 3. “Mike” Mabrey is now their assistant head coach! So yes, I am a UCONN hater. But I respect UConn’s sustained greatness and that respect remains true alongside my disdain for Geno’s smugness. His bravado will always leave a bad taste in my mouth—as insufferable as the smell of sulfur if you will. But I digress.)
Accepting co-captain still meant I wouldn’t lead from the floor. I said yes. Not because it made logical sense or suddenly the outside recognition would follow, but because it felt true to who I was becoming.
And it taught me something I couldn’t have learned any other way: sometimes physical rest is choosing to sit. Not because you’re out of the game, but because your body and spirit know that leadership isn’t always movement. Sometimes the strongest thing you can do is sit down before you’re forced to.
What the Court Taught Me About Stillness
I’ve pushed through pain before—emotionally, mentally, physically. I’ve worn rest as a badge of shame instead of a rite of survival. But that last season at Nova, when I was co-captain and still getting garbage time, forced me to rewire how I understood presence.
Could I still lead without being center court?
Could I still be committed if I wasn’t collapsing after practice?
Could I learn to honor the wisdom of rest—without waiting for permission?
The answer, eventually, was yes.
Physical Rest as Discernment
Here’s what physical rest means to me now:
Listening to my body before it screams.
Letting stillness be part of my practice—not a disruption to it.
Trusting that the absence of grind is not the absence of growth.
Physical rest isn’t just sleep, naps, or Black twitter self care reposts (tho I love all of those). It’s noticing when my body’s holding stress in my shoulders. It’s stretching before I hit publish. Unclenching my jaw. An extra d e e p exhale after noticing I’m doing the autopilot eye rolls and restrained grunts of frustration again.Physical rest is about not forcing myself to write when my brain is foggy and my back is tight.
It’s unglamorous.
It’s unsexy.
But it’s essential.
Sometimes the strongest thing you can do is sit down before you’re forced to.
How to Practice Physical Rest
Start small. Can you rest for five minutes before your body needs 5 days?
Notice tension. What does your body do when you push too far? Can you notice it earlier?
Give your body credit. Not for how much it produces—but for what it carries. Every day.
The Wisdom of Sitting Down
Physical rest has taught me the same lesson I learned on the court: sometimes, the most powerful move is to sit down—not because you’ve given up, but because only YOU know what you’re holding.
Resilience gets all the glory. But discernment? That’s rest in motion. That’s wisdom in the body. That’s how we last.
Are you safe enough to rest?
This is part of my Rest as a Skill series, inspired by the seven types of rest. The truth is that rest isn’t a reward. It’s a right. Catch up or hop around:
Part 2: Physical Rest – Discernment, Not Just Recovery (You are here!).