As most of you know, I am not the most active gal around. I hate exercise. Well, I hate running. I hate doing the stair machine. Elliptical is the devil’s work. You get my drift. Even Sweating to the Oldies was a bit too hectic for me. I used to have a membership in a gym a long time ago, and while it was nice to get away for a while, I always felt intimidated by the people working out. It seemed to me like I was crashing a Gold’s Gym commercial.
But I’m growing older, and I’m starting to feel the aches and pains that come with the grey and the wrinkles. Several friends have suggested I try Yoga. Now, I’m in no shape to be twisted like a pretzel so that I can achieve inner peace. I have balked at trying it because I don’t have elastic ligaments and don’t relish the thought of trying to do a Chinese split or bend over backwards to touch my toes with my nose. However, my new friend Elizabeth (who photographed me for the TRD) is getting her certification as a Yoga instructor, and it just seems like Fate is pointing me in that direction. Either that, or this Lent thing is really playing havoc with my head.
So, I think I will try Yoga, with the possibility of either becoming very fit and flexible (SHUT. UP!!), or relegating myself to Ripley’s Believe It or Not Museum as the world’s only living pretzel.
I’m hoping for the former. But the latter could bring fame and fortune. It’s a toss up 😉