Yoga is Better than Dodge Ball
Once upon a time, in a land not so far away, there lived a person—let's call them Tara—who had a childhood relationship with sports best described as a comedy of errors. Picture this: Tara, decked out in a mismatched tracksuit and glasses two sizes too big, attempting to dribble a basketball only to end up doing a bizarre combination of skipping and flailing arms that resembled some sort of interpretive dance.
Fast forward to Tara's early thirties, where the only exercise she got was reaching for the remote control during commercial breaks or goth dancing during 80’s night. But then, the dreaded desk job entered her life like an unwanted guest at a party, bringing along back pain and a "muffin top" that refused to quit.
Enter Tara's knight in shining activewear—her colleague, Melanie B. With a twinkle in her eye and a gym bag slung over her shoulder, Melanie suggested they hit the gym together. Tara, desperate to shed her office-chair physique, decided to take the plunge.
However, there was a tiny catch—okay, maybe not so tiny. All the classes Tara wanted to try were scheduled in the evening. And with a 90-minute commute, her only viable option was afternoon classes. But fate—or perhaps the universe's twisted sense of humor—had other plans, as the only available class during those hours was drumroll Yoga.
Now, let's get one thing straight: Tara and flexibility were about as compatible as a cat and water. Fourteen years of ballet had failed to imbue her with any semblance of grace or coordination. The thought of contorting her body into pretzel-like poses in public was enough to make her break out in a cold sweat.
But as the saying goes, "Goonies never say die." So, with a deep breath and a silent prayer to the yoga gods, Tara signed up for that dreaded yoga class at the nearby Y.
And lo and behold, almost miraculously, her back pain vanished, and her "muffin top" began to shrink faster than a cheap sweater in the wash. But even better than the physical benefits was the unexpected joy Tara found in the practice. Who knew twisting yourself into a human pretzel could be so darn enjoyable?
With newfound confidence and a sprinkle of YOLO spirit (it was the 2000’s), Tara decided to ditch the afternoon classes and brave the evening fitness scene. Hip hop dance? Sign her up! Kickboxing? Why not! Sure, she might not have been the next Beyoncé or Bruce Lee, but darn it, she was having too much fun to care.
And so, 13 years later, armed with a passion for fitness and a knack for making people laugh even while doing squats, Tara opened her own personal training business. Because sometimes, the most unlikely journeys lead to the greatest adventures. And Tara's journey from office drone to fitness guru? Well, let's just say it's a story that was worth stretching for.
And that’s the story of how I went from dodge ball reject to personal trainer. It turns out that it doesn’t matter if I’m good at sprots or if I can lift the most at the gym. What matters is that I’m stronger today than I was yesterday. I felt compelled to share that knowledge and feeling with my fellow goonies. It doesn’t matter if we’re not the strongest, fastest or most flexible, what matters is doing your best to be your best.
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