Gym Class Reject Finds Peace

There are times I find that life has the grace to meet us where we are, allowing for growth in a way that feels like being scooped up and gently placed in a soft, new circumstance. There are other times it simply shoves us into the deep end, forcing us to adapt; sink or swim.

Whether we’re left serene or sputtering, the result is typically some version of, “That wasn’t so bad” or “I should have done that sooner.”

This is how I feel about going to yoga.

Since about the age of 12, I’ve been quietly at war with my self-image. I’ve spent too much time worried about looking stupid or embarrassing myself: two things I’ve learned actually increase exponentially in likelihood the more you worry about them.

I think the concerns first took root in elementary school gym class. I grew up loving to play outside. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t particularly athletic or good at any sports; I enjoyed the fun of it. This didn’t cut it in the competitive environment of grade school phys ed. Having fun was not the point, a fact made abundantly clear through feedback that was bellowed across the school gym.

I dreaded class.

Things got a little better in high school when I decided what I lacked in skill, I could make up for with enthusiasm. My brother-in-law once held batting practice in the backyard with me so I would get better and have more confidence. Truth be told, I probably expended more energy putting on that whole show than any of the other kids who were easily smashing home runs into the outfield.

Somewhere in there, I’m sure, is a lesson in survival and resilience, which is fine, but I was also left with a very strong aversion to any group activities involving physical fitness. I have shied away from being active in public, opting out of softball leagues or even pickup games at picnics, and choosing at-home workouts over the gym. With the support of friends, I did participate in a couple of 5Ks in my mid-30s, something I considered to be a pretty major breakthrough.

“No one is looking at you,” my mother would consistently say, her patience thinning with each passing year. It wasn’t particularly helpful input for a self-conscious teenager, nor did it land particularly well as an adult. Still, I knew she wasn’t wrong and that the real culprit was my own insecurity.

Now in my 50s, I look back at that kid in gym class and every version of her after with compassion. I look at the lady I see in the mirror and I want to take better care of her, reminding myself that physical activity can mean the difference between enjoying my remaining years or being forced to regard them from the sidelines. No one cares if I can spike a volleyball, but I care that I can go for walks and carry my own groceries. So, at the end of last year, I decided to make some changes, turning over a new leaf, and challenging myself to get out of my own way. If you’ve ever tried to do something similar, then you know it is a slow process.

I saw an ad for the new Solace & Lune Wellness studio downtown. They were promoting a yoga class I had known about for over a year but hadn’t quite found the courage to attend. It seemed like a perfect time to take the leap (stretch?) and so I signed up. I’m very glad I did.

The Gentle Yoga class is small, welcoming, and taught by Tara McDougall, who is not only a lovely human, but a wonderful yoga teacher as well. She meets students where they are, gently guiding everyone through a slow series of stretches and poses. I suspect she may also be a magician. I find myself feeling taller somehow when I leave.

I welcome the soft movement, the stillness and peace, and appreciate the community aspect I once feared. I’m a long way from clinging to a rope in a gymnasium, weighed down by all my worries. How good it feels to have finally let go.

To learn more about the yoga class and other offerings at Solace & Lune, check out their social media pages or their website www.solacelunewellness.com.

This essay originally appeared in my column in the July 16, 2026 edition of the Perry Herald in Perry, NY.