Here I am. Ready for my first "Yogalates" class. What I am sure of…I like my outfit. 

After not going to the gym for weeks, I decided it's a great idea to just go for it. I call the gym and ask them how hard this class is. The response. “It’s like all of our classes, pretty basic.”

A little more background. I have never done pilates. Although I’ve been told it is great for you. I had surgery less than 3 weeks ago. Thankfully I am feeling better. 

I arrived at the gym. After clumsily finding my way to the TURF room... 1 sheepishly lay out my yoga mat.

I feel like a stranger in a strange land. 

The instructor knows everyone's name. It’s like a moment in a Cheers episode. Except mine. 

I let him know about physical limitations. 

He smiles kindly and says "you are good here".

The class begins. 

For 10 minutes, I feel freakin’ fabulous.. I can do a sun salutation.

And then my level of confidence takes a massive plummet. Planks. Need I say more. 

After three cervical spine surgeries, I can hear my physical therapist saying "oh no you don't".

It's at this moment that I have an epiphany. I am here on my own terms. Whenever we are instructed to do a move that I know puts my neck in a compromised position, I quietly sit on my mat. This results in a lot of sitting. 

I made a conscious decision to stop looking around to see what everyone else is doing. I focus on my breathing. I recite my affirmations.

I do this thing my way.

Since my return from Sedona,  I'm really working on leaning into this practice of self-love. I’ve been carrying a heart-shaped rock with me since returning from Arizona as a reminder that self-love is the most important kind of love. 

Yes, even at 60. Yes, even as a mindset coach. It has always been easy for me to get caught in that nasty down spiral called comparisonitis.

The class comes to an end and I thank the instructor. I ask him what class might better serve my needs. And, he smiles again. 

As I get in the car, I think about the lessons from this 60-minutes in the turf room... and I celebrate.

Why? Because I am pretty proud of myself. 

• I 've gotten my ass back in action. 

• I affirm that I am uniquely capable of creating my own experiences. 

• I am freeing myself of the comparisonitis. 

Oh, and. I still love my outfit.