I am doing something this week that I never, ever would have thought I’d do. I am attending a “women’s retreat” in the home of a colleague, which she is leading for a group of 12 of us from my university. We span several age groups–mostly 30 through 40-year-olds, with two younger and one older than that. It’s this whole week, with yoga, meditation, and discussion of a Brene Brown book that we’re reading.
This is wildly uncomfortable territory for me.
First, I hate yoga. Like, I despise it. I promise you that I appreciate it–I truly think it is “good” for your body and soul. I also promise that I have tried it all. I’ve tried Ashtanga and Vinyasa, sweated through Bikram, done some weird hybrid dance-yoga. (I have embraced Piyo, combining Plyometrics and Yoga–that I can actually stand.) But yoga yoga is simply not my thing. Give we weights to lift, sprints to run, or a box to jump onto, and I will be there. Yoga, not so much.
To my therapist’s credit, she said about this endeavor, “Oh my god, that sounds awful.” And, of course, she was half joking and also half serious. It’s definitely not my cup of tea. At times, it is awful. But, at times, it is also nice to be in a room with 11 other women who are all trying just to figure out how to live this life the best way we can.