I’ll admit it. I love yoga, really. I love the music, the movement, and especially the nap at the end. I actually enjoy getting into that meditative place and finding comfort in the pain as I stretch out tired muscles and move forward to the next pose. Yoga is incredibly therapeutic.
Many mornings I will get up earlier than the rest of the family and go out to the patio and stretch out my yoga mat. I’ll find Rodney Yee on my phone and set it close to my mat for his guidance to AM Yoga. After he’s done with his routine I’ll go back to the poses I liked the most and do them again. Then because it is my personal time I will relax into my restful meditation as I lie back on the mat and look up at the clouds or close my eyes and let the calm of yoga bring me peace.
Their nubile young bodies that bend and stretch with cocky strength amuse me as I try to keep up and argue with my less agile old frame. I comfort myself with knowing that one day she’ll have three children, a busy schedule, a crazy love of pasta and carbs, and she’ll find herself one day trying to hide in the back of the yoga class behind the crazy bendable elderly lady in the sweatband and puffy paint t-shirts too.
However my love of Yoga isn’t really a secret. But the truth I want to share is, I really just love yoga for the comfy stretch pants that make people think I work out and my butt a little less flabby.