Yoga's never been an 100% perfect fit for me. Occasionally I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes at some bit of New Age-y gobbledygook (reminding myself that squeezing out the toxins to make room for the life force of the universe is merely a poetic metaphor) or you know, the whole cultural appropriation angle. But at the same time, who couldn't stand to breathe a little deeper or have hips and shoulders that were just a little looser?
My least favorite part of yoga has always been the balance poses, because, let's face it, grace on one leg has never been my forte. And we all know that clumsiness is only cute if you're a rom-com character played by Jessica Alba.
But something wonderful happened two weeks ago, and it wasn't even in a yoga class. I was bicycling in Pheasant Branch when I lifted my hands from the handlebars. I didn't start to tip and veer as I normally would. I was able to ride with no hands for the first time ever, for several hundred feet. And then I did it again while going over a bridge and even steering around a bend. I could feel the tiny muscle corrections in my thighs, corrections I'd been practicing during balance poses in yoga all month.
This small victory was a huge reminder that our bodies have an amazing capacity to grow stronger and that my limitations are not necessarily innate or permanent. If that's not a worthy revelation, I'm not sure what is.