I’ve never set foot in a studio or shown my face in a group class. I own one set of DVDs recorded in what looks like the mid-90s, one mud-stained, crumbling mat that’s at least 10 years old, and zero articles of Lululemon clothing. My “chair” pose is stiff like wicker and so painful that I’ve been known to say “f*ck off” to the sweet little instructor on the TV screen — or in my headphones — when she commands it. And my lack of grace while practicing on the wood floor in our living room can be heard throughout the house — “Hop your feet between your hands!” *BOOM* “Come up into airplane pose!” *CRASH* — so I’ve recently started taking it outside onto our deck.
Somehow, the deck is still standing. And I only have a few bruises. 😏
Sitting here today (at 2:30 AM on Sober Day #350), I would say yoga is currently my favorite form of exercise.