My Michael Phelps Moment: Why I’m a Yoga Convert
Let’s start with the fact that I have a crush on my yoga instructor. (Because, really, what’s the point of taking an exercise class if you don’t develop a crush on your instructor?) She’s warm and encouraging and has this lovely, mellifluous English accent. It’s like taking a class from a giant bottle of jojoba bath oil.
She’s also great at giving you step by step instructions. She’s positively obsessed with making sure that your three middle toes are lifted during all postures, something which turns out to be surprisingly difficult.
I was a reluctant convert to yoga, even though my husband and several close friends had been doing it for years.
Part of it was that the whole yoga gestalt seemed too groovy for the likes of me...