From Meathead to Mat: How My First Yoga Class Changed Everything

At 26, I was deep in the world of lifting weights, doing maybe five minutes of cardio (begrudgingly), and hyper-focused on growing my butt—because for a while, my nickname was pancake ass. Ugh. I hated that so much. I was a total meathead, and naturally, I only dated meatheads. Spoiler alert: those relationships were extremely toxic.

So there I was, convinced I could do anything, when I saw that my gym was offering a class called Athletic Yoga. That name alone was enough to get me through the door. Because, ya know, yoga was for girly girls, and that definitely was not me.

Holy. Shit.

I could not do anything.

I couldn’t touch my toes.

I couldn’t sit all the way down in balasana (child’s pose).

I couldn’t even hold tree pose without looking like a drunk flamingo.

This was a huge wake-up call. I thought I was strong, but yoga showed me a whole new level of strength—one that had nothing to do with how much weight I could squat.

I was determined.

For the next six months, I went to as many yoga classes as I could at the gym. Same class, same teacher. And I loved it. She helped me understand the practice, the movements, and the mindset behind it all.

Then life happened. I moved to a small town where there were no yoga classes. So I had to venture into the world of yoga studios, which was terrifying. I had no idea what to expect or what to look for.

Through trial and error, I figured out what I liked and what I didn’t. Turns out, I’m really into hot yoga and Bikram yoga. Turns out, I wasn’t a beginner anymore. And along the way, I found some dope teachers.

But there was one problem: I had to travel 30-45 minutes just to take a class. Stupid small towns.

So I made a decision.

I got my 200-hour RYT and decided to teach myself.

Best. Decision. Ever.

I thought I knew yoga. HA! Absolutely not. There is so much to learn, so many limbs and paths to explore. Yoga isn’t just about poses—it’s about breath, philosophy, discipline, and self-discovery.

And honestly? That first class changed my life.

I have no idea where I’d be without movement.

Because here’s the thing—whether it’s yoga, lifting, hiking, dancing in your kitchen, or just stretching so you don’t feel like a rusty door hinge every morning—staying mobile is everything.

We don’t realize how much we take movement for granted until we start losing it. Flexibility, strength, balance—it all matters. And it’s not about being the best or mastering some crazy pose. It’s about keeping your body functional, feeling good, and staying in the game for the long haul.

So if you, like me, realize you have room to grow—grab the bull by the horns and ride it. Take the chance. Step into something new. Move your body in ways that challenge you, excite you, and keep you feeling alive.

Trust me—your future self will thank you.