Picture this:  A woman who practices yoga, who’s drawn to both its difficulty and peacefulness, someone who carves out precious time several days a week to do sun salutations and hold tree pose.

Now this:  A woman sprinting up and down the basketball court, looking for a good pass, taking a shot, boxing out as if there were no tomorrow.

Put them together and you’ll find me there:  it’s an odd mix of interests, even to me.  The morning after we play basketball, some of my teammates come back to the gym to take an intense cardio class, which runs at the same time as a class of mine.  They tease me about my yoga mat, we laugh about my “stretching.”  And to be sure, in the other room they are running hard, and doing sit-ups and other old school exercises that remind me of high school basketball practice.  It’s a workout.  

So why don’t I join them?

For starters, I’ve never been a fan of classes at the gym.  Back in the day I tried, believe me.  Step aerobics was nearly the death of me—there isn’t a single thing about those types of classes that motivates me.  Sure, I can sign up and show up but it will be short lived.  There’s no pull there.

Yoga pulls me.  The dim room and the personal challenge and the depth of concentration whisper my name.  I’m stronger now.  My mind is focused.  I’m present.

I’ve been an athlete all my life and I know my days on the court are limited.  But the mat?  I think we’ll be well acquainted for a very long time.