In November of 2009, I’d had two knee surgeries, was overweight, and had just moved home after graduating from college. I needed a change and, at the encouragement of one of my sisters and some friends, began doing P90X in my parents’ basement. It was awkward. (You try exercising in a house with six other people.) I moved like a frantic drunk person with my bands and five pound weights. No, seriously. I’m sure I was disturbing to watch. But I was happy.
Tony Horton got on my nerves big time, but I could mute him. I loved everything about those workouts. Except one. And I avoided it at all costs: YogaX. It moved too slowly, required balance, (something that top-heavy me had little of), and left me with too much time to think. Frankly, I was interested in powering through, not creating stillness. But I did it anyway. It took months for me to finish that DVD, and the first time I did, I cried. (Of course.)
And then… I was hooked.
I’ve practiced at many different studios since then (although nothing compares to that basement) and have bought my share of Groupons, been smitten by Bikram, completed 30 day challenges, attended class for the inversions, and even worked the front desk at a studio for a summer. I started because I wanted “yoga arms”. Sure, there was some self-reflection in the process, but vulnerability is scary and we all say we want less stress and to be better people, but that takes deep work and I was more interested in sweating through a power Vinyasa class, than sitting cross-legged in silence thinking about my grocery list.
Thankfully, a lot has changed and I’ve found the value in sitting. And Yoga has served me well, especially through these last few years of ubiquitous injuries. When my doctors have me freeze my gym membership and put the brakes on Body Pump, they always tell me I can still do yoga. I’m not always grateful, but I should be.
In January, in the midst of a particularly painful and frightening season with CRPS, I took a ginormous leap of faith and applied to a local yoga teacher training program–something I’ve wanted to do for many years–and I was accepted. The program starts in two weeks and the first batch of required books arrived today.
I cannot even tell you how excited I am; how afraid I am; how frustrated I am about the car accident and the whiplash and the pain I’m in every day; or how hopeful I am that So Much Good might come from this six month program. It feels right to be doing this now-even with all the fear.