In four weeks I am going to India to train as a yoga teacher.
(Life seldom takes the turns you thought it might, huh?)
I don’t know where to begin in explaining. Because it’s not just this one thing that makes this feel like something I don’t so much want to do as have to do. I feel like I was always going to end up signing up for a 200-hour yoga teacher certification. That’s for so many reasons. I suppose it always is.
It’s January 2014, when I started my journey to get strong and sexy, losing all that weight and learning how to respect my body. That was the beginning of a revelation. Self-love.
It’s exactly 13 months ago, where, to stretch out the tight body that training for my first 10k race made, I committed to a weekly yoga class to see if that might help loosen me up a little. It loosened me up a lot – and I’m not just talking about my legs.
It’s how that weekly yoga session became two, sometimes three, times a week – until even when I wasn’t running I’d go, because holy shit, man. It felt good.