For most of my life, my voice has been at the heart of my work – twelve years performing over 150 shows a year while finishing my BA and, later, recording children’s tunes and tales as a new mother. My classical training had already taught me that the body is the instrument, not just the voice alone. But when you’re singing nearly every day, rehearsing twice a week, and performing on weekends, it’s easy to let the specific, dedicated practice slide. I told myself the constant singing and performing was training enough on its own. It didn’t feel like I was neglecting the work, because I was working constantly.

Forty years after those performance days, I can see what that quiet inconsistency actually cost. The craft of using the voice as a profession doesn’t run on instinct and habit forever. It asks for deliberate, ongoing preparation, and the years I let that specific practice slide are exactly the years now showing up, as signs of aging, I could have lessened.

This past period – as a 60-something woman, reminded me of something I’d always known but stopped actively practicing: the voice never works in isolation. Our limbs are often the first to show signs of aging. Less mobility weakens the hip area. The core that once held everything together quietly asks for more support.

I’ve stopped letting my age take the blame for a rough week. Half the time, it’s just allergies, or simply a week that wore me out. I do, however, honour what the scars from my C-section and hip replacement surgeries have added to my lower body’s rehabilitation – work that goes beyond what most bodies my age are asking of themselves. And so I’m taking the reins: rebuilding strength, returning to the fine-tuning I’d neglected, meeting a new texture and sound with the same voice underneath, only more seasoned now.

If your work depends on your voice – teacher, coach, counsellor, therapist, meditation guide, podcaster, voice actor, presenter, etc., or you simply want to show up as your true self again, whatever your age, I think you’ll relate. Here’s what rebuilding actually looks like for me, day to day.

1. Gentle strength training
Resistance bands, a few weights, and a Pilates ring are now part of my regular rotation. Nothing heavy or dramatic, just a consistent load on the muscles that hold everything else up.

For structured Pilates or strength work, I still return to DVDs that are over twenty years old: Mari Winsor’s Winsor Pilates series is my go-to for core and ab work, and Moira Merrithew’s programs with Stott Pilates round things out with a deeper focus on core rebuilding. And for the shorter breaks between working at my desk, Denise Austin’s 10 Minute Solution is exactly the quick reset I need. Together, they build core strength, ab control, and balance, and all of them are gentle enough to modify around whatever your own body needs.

I know there’s an endless supply of free Pilates and other exercise content on YouTube now, but I’ve stopped searching for it. I have instructors I know and trust, and after twenty years, I know exactly what to expect from each of them. Pilates fundamentals don’t really change from one program to the next; what matters is the delivery, and these are the voices I’ve trusted for two decades. Now that I have a small portable player attached to my computer, they’re staying as my source.

A guitar or violin body needs to be structurally sound to resonate well; ours is no different. The core and pelvic floor are part of that structure, quietly doing their job long before a single note is sung.

2. Cardio
My twenty-year-old Horizon treadmill is my safest option. Vertigo can show up without warning, and having somewhere safe to sit nearby or stopping before my goal is reached matters more than pushing through on a trail. Walking outdoors is wonderful too, and it has the added benefit of being free and experiencing it with a friend.

My days tend to run long: some mornings I’m at my computer from 7:30 until noon, then back in the office from 2 pm until dinner. Currently, I aim for one mile per session after lunch, at a steady pace of three miles an hour, and it’s become my best way to decompress between those long stretches. In between, I break things up with my other favourite exercises. Summertime loosens all of this, since Montreal can turn excessively hot and humid from June through September, and the schedule shifts to make room for more play.

I also use a stepper from Sunny Health after heavier meals, which helps with glucose management, an unexpected but welcome bonus of a movement habit.

An instrument needs sustained airflow to keep sounding, not just a single strong breath. Cardiovascular fitness is what lets that airflow hold steady over the length of a song, a class, or an hour of speaking.

3. Diaphragmatic breathing
Belly breathing is the through-line connecting everything else on this list to the voice itself, and it’s the one practice I come back to again and again, both in my own preparation and in the meditations I guide.

The technique is simple to describe and, for most people, surprisingly uncomfortable at first: allow the belly to expand as you breathe in, then let that expansion naturally rise up through the rib cage and into the upper chest. Most of us have become shallow breathers over the years. We hold our stomachs in, breathe high into the chest, and don’t even realize we’re doing it. Asking the body to reverse that pattern – to let the breath begin lower can feel unfamiliar for the first little while.

Years ago, I attended a breathing workshop that lasted more than two hours. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced. There were assistants throughout the room supporting participants as the session unfolded. Some people became light-headed, some even fainted or described vivid sensations. I found myself singing during a time when I had given up on my voice.

That experience introduced me to a form of rhythmic nasal breathing where the breath moved quickly in and out through the nose while the diaphragm and abdominal muscles worked together in a steady pumping motion. It was incredibly powerful. It was not designed for singers per se, but a practice that helps connect us to our true self more deeply and honestly.

I don’t recommend attempting that type of intensive breathing without qualified instruction. The version I learned was designed to be done under supervision. What I have kept, however, is a much gentler version that has become part of my regular practice. It reconnects me with my breath, encourages healthy diaphragmatic movement, and reminds my body that a free, supported voice begins long before the sound reaches my throat.

Here’s the part I think gets missed most often.

Our body isn’t simply the delivery system for the voice.

It is the instrument that allows the voice to resonate.

Think of a guitar, a cello, or a violin. The strings create the vibration, but it is the wooden body that shapes, amplifies, and colours the sound. A beautifully tuned string attached to a damaged instrument will never produce its fullest tone.

Our bodies work much the same way.

The way we stand, breathe, move, and carry tension changes the way our voice resonates. And yes, age does that as well. The sound doesn’t begin in the throat alone; it is shaped by the whole body that carries it.

When we breathe shallowly, the shoulders and neck tighten to compensate, and that tension travels straight into the throat. Diaphragmatic breathing encourages the opposite: a low, supported breath, a more open resonating space, and a voice that feels freer because the whole body is sharing the work.

Strength and cardio increase the body’s capacity.

Diaphragmatic breathing teaches that body how to use it.

4. Vocal warm-ups
This is where I’m rebuilding most intentionally. My rotation includes straw breathing, yawns, humming, lip trills, anything that trains breath control, plus neck rolls, jaw release, shoulder drops, and arm drops paired with a grounding visualization. Each of these does something specific.

Straw breathing and humming create gentle resistance that helps the vocal folds come together efficiently. Yawns and jaw-release relax the very muscles that tend to grip when we haven’t sung or spoken publicly in a while. The neck rolls and shoulder drops matter more than they seem to; tension anywhere in that chain shows up in the sound.

Think of it as tuning the instrument before playing, not just warming up the player. The body needs a moment to remember its own shape before it can resonate freely.

A full daily warm-up runs fifteen to twenty minutes. Before stepping up to a mic or into a presentation, a five-minute mini version does the job.

I’m writing this as a 60-plus woman fighting gravity and every typical sign of an aging body, and yes, I can laugh about that. But none of these practices are exclusive to my age or my profession. They’re simply good habits for anyone who uses their voice as instrument and livelihood, whether you sing, coach, counsel, teach, or guide. I hope I have inspired you to find your perfect routine to keep your voice and body in tune.

Stop reaching for “back in the day.” Work with the instrument in front of you, today, and let it lead you forward.