It’s 7:30 in the morning, and my phone rings. It’s my sister sounding like an undercover cop on surveillance: whispery voice, hand cupped over the phone, shifty eyes.
“I really love yoga,” she says. “You have no idea how much I love yoga right now.”
She’s a new yoga junkie. It happens. We arrive here from other sports, other pastimes, other loves, and we fall into yoga like matter into black holes.
I’ll bet you’ve had these hushed conversations.
“What about running?” I asked a yoga friend when he first fell. “I dunno,” he said. “I don’t want to run as much. It doesn’t help my yoga.” This, from marathon runner to marathon runner.
“I’m supposed to ride tomorrow, and all I want to do is go to yoga,” my sister continues. “I know,” I say. “I know the feeling.”
“I can jump through to a seated position,” she says. “Learned that last night.”
“Oh yeah,” I say, knowingly. “That’s good.”
“And I’m starting to get that thing about lifting my heart without sticking my front ribs out. You have no idea how good that is.”
“Oh yeah?” I say.
“Oh yeah,” she confirms. “And another thing: did I mention that my knees don’t hurt when I’m walking to work, now? Did I mention that?”
Yeah, you did, but that’s okay.
“You have no idea how good that is,” she persists.
I don’t want to scare anybody, but this is the way you begin to talk to the people you love. You can go on running, cycling, and all the rest of it. No one’s going to stop you, but you might love this yoga thing more than you thought.
Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Thanks to yoga for the inspiration, and thanks to you for the conversation.