I was 41 years old and the first thing I did when I got out of bed was hobble.
I had plantar fasciitis, a painful inflammation of the tissue that connects the toes with the heels. I also had chronic pain in my hip from frequent hiking.
I suffered from “monkey brain”, a perfectly named term that refers to being in a permanent state of frenzied distraction.
I can name other afflictions: struggle, stress, occasional anhedonia, anxiety, loneliness, melancholy.
I was in the midst of attempting to figure out what to do with my once fortunate, now tepid marriage and felt a general sense of crappiness.
On a whim, I walked into a yoga class. It’s not so much that I liked it. Rather, upon leaving I noticed a sense of peace that I had not felt for a long time.
So I went back for more.
Over time, yoga reversed the clock on my body. It not only made me calmer, happier and more grounded – I credit it for my sanity.
It taught me the power of my own breath.
Yoga is a practice. This means you don’t need to be good at it. You just need to show up.
It also means that if you show up, you will eventually be able to do things you previously didn’t think you could.
This is me. I’m 46 and thanks to deciding to try out a yoga class I don’t hobble out of bed anymore.