Category: Yoga

Reaching Another Filmmaking Level

After making the worst content I’d ever made in form of an instructional yoga video, my next video project was remarkably better. So much so that friends and family alike praised how good it was, suggesting that it should be entered into film festivals. One writer friend even commented on how professional the documentary was.

That’s because I’d learned from my experiences–the good, the bad and the questionable. Other than the learning curve from regular practice of making digital movies, I actively explored other techniques out of necessity.

Initially, I was intimidated by the challenge to make a total of 15 hours’ worth of instructional yoga videos for my 200-hour yoga teacher training course. I overcame that apprehension by reframing the situation. I embraced the opportunity to further my filmmaking skills through those videos.

Figuring that I’d never use the audio from any of my yoga recordings, I learned how to use the voiceover feature in a video-editing platform. The first video where I used the technique didn’t go well because I’d inappropriately overdramatized my voice. Who knew voice acting was so challenging?

For absolutely no yoga reason at all, I added a short animated clip to the beginning of each yoga video. My thinking was if I continued to practice with that medium, I’d get better at it and eventually make an episode-length animation.

As a matter of fact, I’d been so preoccupied by visuals, that I didn’t appreciate how much sound shaped my story. Of course, I knew about the power of sound and how sound mixing played a powerful part in movies and TV series, but for some inexplicable reason, that aspect of filmmaking didn’t concern me until recently. That was the time I discovered the library of music clips and sound effects available in the video-editing platform.

I saved both time and precious computer storage by adding sound directly from the video-editing platform rather than saving the whole thing, then creating a soundtrack in an audio-editing platform. As basic as my sound-mixing needs have been, I didn’t need to use the audio-editing platform unless working on a podcast episode.

After learning how to adjust the volume for individual sound clips while editing digital film, I didn’t explore any further until recently. Now, I pay far more attention to how sound shapes a narrative not only in my own projects, but also in everything that I watch.

The trick is, sound should be seamlessly integrated such that it emerges prominently when necessary, but recedes into the background to highlight the visual when not featured. Sound should only be a distraction when aural distraction is necessary to the storytelling.

Another time-saving use of the voiceover feature is to record a specific sound effect not found on the platform’s library. After finding a clip on my phone, I hold my phone near my laptop and record it directly into the video-editing platform.

The only drawback is that other sounds in the room or immediately outside the room will be recorded as well. I discovered how noisy my intestines were after eating. Since I recline on my bed to edit, resting the laptop on my body, my digestive track competed with the voiceover, which caused me to redo a few takes.

Another hurdle I flattened was getting the video from my smartphone to my laptop. I’d used airdrop before with other people, but never between my phone and my laptop until now. Although taking longer than I would like, it’s still a more efficient way to get a video clip to my laptop when, after a few days, those two devices don’t sync.

Once the video clip is available in the photo library, I save it to its own album, which I then import into the video-editing platform.

I’ve not yet bridged the gap between transitioning from the animated clip in the beginning of the yoga video to the live action, but with the help of YouTube videos and good ol’ trial and error, I plan to master more techniques over time.

My long-term plan is to continue perfecting my filmmaking storytelling skills, knowing full well that absolute perfection isn’t attainable.

85 Years of Greatness

I’ve proudly told anyone who’d listen about my maternal side of the family meeting for many years consecutively, even virtually during COVID, since 1941.

Our reunion is a year younger than Mom. Adding to the specialness of the occasion, the former family reunion vice president, currently the president, had a special request for his older sister: write a play based on great grandfather Jesse Strange’s 12 children who were all born free and referred to as “The First Generation of Freeborn Stranges.”

Initially, she thought he was joking, but months later, he called her to see how the play was coming along.

Using our family book, Reflections of a Proud Strange Family, not only did she complete our first family play, but for most of the roles, she casted direct descendants of the first generation to play their ancestors.

The only time we had an opportunity to rehearse in real life on the stage where we’d eventually perform for the entire family was that Friday evening following our annual fish fry that kicks off the reunion events.

On Saturday morning, we had another first: family breakfast under the shelter, which included bacon, eggs, fried apples, biscuits, salmon cakes, fresh fruit mix and waffles.

I was one of the last people to get in the breakfast line. My first reunion miracle was that the buffet still had salmon cakes by the time I arrived.

After breakfast, kids and the young at heart enjoyed various field day activities.

Other adults and I enjoyed a Zen moment of coloring under the shelter.

My sister, who’s an art teacher, brought several different coloring page choices on card stock along with crayons, colored pencils and markers.

Normally, if I’m not digitally coloring, my next favorite is colored pencils.

However, when I saw that a box of specialty crayons, featuring different skin tones, I was enticed enough to blend several different skin tone colors together.

Funny thing about this year’s coloring station: we only had two legit under 18 kids approach the table.

Across the way, I saw my cousin’s wife, who was looking particularly “Michelle Obama” that morning. I took a picture with her and sent it out to my friends, telling them that the former first lady had visited my family reunion.

We regrouped at the hotel to prepare for the evening program. Since my sister and I were part of the nine family members who toured Ghana for two weeks, we wore our Ghanaian clothes. When Mom saw that we were posing for a picture, she jumped up out of her seat, fasted walked (for her) over to photobomb as if she belonged in the picture.

This sign displayed the theme:

My sisters’ family strolled up to the reunion after we did, sporting their Ghanaian attire.

After dinner everyone present who had vacationed to Ghana, posed behind me as I gave some brief words.

I knew better than to attempt to give a tour recap, which was why I created a short documentary about the trip.

My plan was to drop the link to the doc in a family chat where 19 of us regularly kept in contact. I asked everyone who received the link to pass it onto at least five other family members who weren’t on the chat.

We had our first board election since becoming an LLC. Most of the board members were returning with two new members, who are also the youngest members.

Again, Mom’s never met a camera she didn’t like. I’m sure the former board secretary didn’t mind.

For a few years, my quilting-enthusiast cousin had wanted to put a family quilt together. So, at last year’s reunion, she hosted a quilting square station where family members drew a representation of themselves or their family. She fleshed out the quilt by grabbing a few pictures off of a photography-enthusiast cousin’s website.

Finally, the family play.

Throughout the play, characters made references to nearby relatives’ houses, a nearby family church while representing the First, Second and Fourth Generation of Freeborn Stranges.

Needless to say, the play was a hit. Not only that, but it encouraged people to learn more Strange Family History!

Serenity Prayer with a Twist

I’ve been reading a curated list of books since December when I first signed up for a 200-hour yoga teacher training virtual course. I’ve often said since starting this journey that the reading list alone was worth the cost of the entire course.

Cannot remember which book I took the above quote from, but I was intrigued that the author intentionally modified it from the Serenity Prayer which states, “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.”

Changing bad habits is one of the hardest things to do. Attempting to change another person’s bad habits is nearly mission impossible. The invested energy would be better spent improving one’s self.

More importantly, trying to control someone else drains the joy out of you. The question I’ve asked myself many times before is: what price am I willing to pay to change another person?

It’s delusional to believe that I will change any person or situation without changing myself. I’ve learned that lesson by watching others repeatedly hit their head against the wall. Furiously clinging to preserve how they do things while simultaneously spending a lot of energy to change another person. Whether they acknowledge it or not, the main person who’s being affected is them.

And not for the better. Which drives more anger, resentment and other negative emotions.

What if instead, challenging situations motivated introspection to resolve the issue in a productive way? Instead of allowing a bad situation to fester and deepen the hole that you find yourself in, you liberate yourself to a better position.

The first battle I usually have to fight is my temper. Others may bait me into an argument precisely so I can lose my temper and lose ground. In the past, I’ve gone either way.

At best, I’ve maintained a level head, and when at work, a professional tone, while resolving a conflict. Only half the time does logic work. Regardless of whether in a professional setting or not, I’m still dealing with another person. No matter how logical my argument may be, that other person may not appreciate another way of doing something because that would cause them to leave the comfort zone they’re fighting tooth and nail to maintain.

At worst, I’ve said things, especially in personal relationships, to inflict maximum pain. It’s predictable because I know the other person in question will only back down if I finally lose it. I don’t want to cut them to the core, but it’s as if the argument cannot end with a curt, “We can agree to disagree” TV-style of conflict resolution.

When my temper is lost, so are many options to deal with a situation differently. Yet, it’s worth the effort to seek another way to handle life’s conflicts.

Unlike when I was in my 20s, I no longer believe that I’ll be happy when I’ve removed myself from stressful situations and people. The hits will keep coming and none of them will take turns.

So the real challenge is having the courage to change, given the fluidity of life, but still remain true to myself. I will be my own best advocate. I am worth the effort. My focus and invested energy will rely on how I can best adapt to a situation rather than controlling another person.

Easier written than done.

First One, Worst One

As part of my 200-hour yoga teacher certification course, I had to record 15 hours of myself teaching. In order to make that task less daunting, I coupled the effort with expanding my filmmaking skill set.

I researched an animation app that advertised itself as being “easy to use.” As usual with new tech, I spent several frustrating hours putting a decent sequence together for the introduction of my yoga video.

I had no problem choosing a setting since the motivation for creating a chair yoga sequence presented itself when I overnighted in an airport unexpectedly.

That part of the video was engaging and cute. The content quality plummeted from there. From my own self-criticism, I thought the video footage went from an adorable animation to a hostage video.

I couldn’t use the audio from the video since, in the adjacent room, a dance class was in progress. So, I recorded footage without speaking, which made editing much easier.

In the spirit of “I’ll fix it in post,” I recorded a voice over (VO). My intention was to use a calming/soothing voice to help anyone who’d just missed their connecting flight. Additionally, the chair sequence was a series of postures that one could do in an uncomfortable airline terminal seat.

After recording the VO, I added instrumental music, which changed with each change in posture. Not DJ quality musical flow, but better than dead silence.

Next, I uploaded the 30-minute video to my newly made YouTube channel by creating a playlist. Another first. I also created a channel logo:

Even with the post-production effort, I thought the video was the worst content I’d made in a long time. I defeated my inner critic by declaring that I could only go up from there.

Then, I did myself a tremendous favor by sending out the link to my family and friends. Their feedback was invaluable.

One of my friends texted that she found my VO hilarious since she knew what my real voice sounded like.

One of my sisters was even more exacting about my VO in her text. “You sound like a sex Goddess in the video! Was that the sound you were going for?”

Absolutely not. Apparently, I’d put the “whore” in “horrible.”

My other sister, who thinks she’s my mother, left me a voicemail, asking me to call for her feedback. She agreed with the sex Goddess voice observation, but didn’t want to put that in writing. Instead she told me that my tone of voice at the end of the video was much better than in the beginning.

Also, she wanted me to know that throughout the video, I looked “slouchy.” Initially, I didn’t think that was a word. After all, she’s notorious for changing song lyrics and mispronouncing words to the extent they don’t sound like real words. The family-famous example is her pronunciation of the word “licorice.” She calls it “lick-WISH.”

After that critique, the hostage video footage seemed even worse now that my awareness focused on my lazy, drooping seated posture throughout the video. (Yes, I purposely chose a picture for this blog post where I didn’t look slouchy because, damn…)

My play cousin texted, “👀What am i looking at prima?”

I responded, “One of my yoga homework videos, primo. Is it that confusing?!” He liked the question.

Another friend who was included in that text chain stated, “I got 10min in. Was between satire and practical and early vid practice. 👏🏽”

That was the best compliment from someone who actually watched.

I received “congratulations” and “you go girl” from friends and family who obviously hadn’t bothered to watch. Or perhaps they had watched the video, but wanted to politely avoid saying how bad/confusing/slouchy it was and focus on the fact that I’d had completed the first video.

Only 14.5 hours of instructional yoga videos to go.

For future videos, I will: 1) not use the sex Goddess voice; 2) use a colorful piece of cloth on the wall to break up the starkness; 3) explore other camera angles.

Yoga Fight Club

I usually arrive early to my hot yoga class to both acclimate to the room and work on some personal movement goals prior to class. I choose the best spot to set up given what’s available when I enter the room. Mat placement is an on-going challenge.

Wherever that place is, becomes “my spot.” For a limited time only. Then I leave, relinquishing whatever sense of ownership I had. As temporary as the attachment is, my awareness is brought to how much stock I put into my choice when I have to relocate.

Not all reasons are equal. For example, if there’s a full class and we all have to readjust our mats, I’m very cooperative and my temper doesn’t flare. But when circumstances involve me and, let’s say, the poor choices of some other person and their yoga buddy, then I start to simmer.

Recent example: I unrolled my mat adjacent to a spot that was near the wall. Normally, I would’ve taken the spot closest to the wall, but there was a saucer-sized dip in the floor, which I’ve dealt with before. Throughout my practice, avoiding that spot in order to retain balance distracted me.

Another woman set up her mat by the wall while I was in the middle of doing a warm up stretch. A few seconds later, another mat rudely plopped down between us, alarming us both.

“Oh, you want to practice beside me?” She asked the interloper.

I looked up to see a child who was 11 to 13 years old. Definitely her child. Of course he wanted to practice beside his mother. They’d come together. Why wouldn’t they practice side by side?

My temper sizzled: ALLTHATEMPTYSPACEINTHEROOMANDSHECHOULDN’THAVECHOSENASPOTWHEREBOTHSHEANDHERSONCOULDPRACTICEWITHOUTDISTRUBINGSOMEONEELSE?

I kept my rant to myself as I moved my mat over to the next space. Before I had reestablished my sense of possessiveness over the new spot, the instructor advised me to move over a little more to avoid colliding with the son during one of the postures she had lined up for that morning’s practice.

As I moved the mat over a little more to the right, I announced to the mostly empty room, “If I have to move my mat one more time, fight club is going to break out.”

Everyone laughed. Apparently, they didn’t acknowledge the grain of truth embedded in that proclamation. I felt aggressive. Fortunately, class began soon after, which helped distract me from my anger.

Throughout practice, I soon discovered that he had a beneficial position between two women who were seasoned yogis, since no matter if a pose had us looking left or right, he had his mother as a guide on one side of him and me on another.

Even more so than my mat placement challenge, controlling my temper is definitely the biggest challenge. I’m so happy that throughout my life, my anger hasn’t caused me to do something detrimental that I couldn’t undo or work around afterwards.

Having a balanced temper is far more important than being balanced in a posture. I wish that as I gain physical balance that mental balance improved in tandem. In my experience, the latter lags behind the former.

I’ve made a point to meditate on other things, yet I think avoiding the negative consequences of losing my cool may be the most important focus I can develop. I believe in the notion of improving how I respond to external things by improving myself internally.

Amen

How Abundance Works

When I brainstormed about what to gift my family for Christmas, my answer combined my filmmaking aspirations with sound bath healing. This was my fourth year in a row to observe non-materialistic Christmas gift-giving.

“Abundance” featured in the film. The more I meditated, I realized that every situation could be reframed with abundance in mind. For example, one of my favorite gifts to myself, especially during the holiday season, is an abundance of unscheduled time whenever I take paid leave from work.

Apparently, this time around, I took too much paid time off. Weeks after the fact, I learned that paid time off (PTO) taken in 2025 wouldn’t be covered by accrued PTO in 2026. At least I benefited from a wonderful Christmas-Kwanzaa break with the luxury of time.

I started the new year off with a smaller paycheck than usual. The exact opposite of financial abundance. Yet, I reframed that experience to “I paid for my latest staycation.” Besides, with my new position, I had to work on MLK Day. A situation that helped recoup some of the money I’d lost since working holidays have a pay rate of two and a half times.

Another instance of abundance occurred when I discovered that I had to record 15 hours of me teaching yoga as part of the 200-hour yoga instructor certification, starting in mid-February. Our house was still under renovation, but even before that, I didn’t have a distraction-free area to record my instruction.

Much to my annoyance, I had to reach out to other people. Yet, I received an abundance of support. The first was from the yoga teacher who’d sent me the link to sign up for the course. The second was from my stretch and flex teacher who also owned a hair salon where we could set up and practice. Finally, my pole dancing teacher, who also owned the studio, agreed to let me use the auxiliary room on Sundays when no classes were scheduled.

All I had to do was ask.

Then, without asking, my car insurance inexplicably decreased by $50 for six months’ coverage. Plus, I’d forgotten that after being at my gym for three years that I’d be able to pay a flat annual fee, saving me over $500 a year.

I’d been raised to count my blessings. As an adult, I’m thankful that I’ve learned the lesson of how abundance interacts with those blessings. Blessings are the wonderful things in your life. Being aware of abundance in these situations is to be mindful that those wonderful things are enough.

Waking Up with Purpose

My greatest gift to myself during the Christmas-Kwanzaa break was unscheduled time. As much as my remaining PTO covered. I lived out the artist’s dream of indulging my entire day with juggling a few creative projects.

In between projects and errands/chores, I attended exercise classes. My first class for 2026 was hot yoga where the instructor passed out affirmation cards for “bad asses.” I pulled a card that resonated with me.

Every morning, I wake up with a sense of purpose for what needs to be accomplished. The only way I finish large projects is to do a little at a time during the work week and even more on the weekends.

After completing a short film for my family as their Christmas gift, I brainstormed what to do next. I haven’t settled on anything this early in the year although I’ve thought about finally trying my hand with animation. For that, I’d need voice actors. Actually, anyone fluent in English would do. Not going to raise the bar too high for the rate I’m paying.

Just like that, a MeetUp invitation appeared in my email to have dinner at a new nearby restaurant which boasted of a menu with locally sourced food and different in-house beers and cider on tap. The whole vibe reminded me of something that I’d taken for granted back in Austin.

I’ll start attending more of these events in order to get a selection of voice actors. Usually, I socialize through exercise classes. I’ll get more acquainted with my fellow yogi/dancer because you never know what talented person is dancing/doing yoga right beside you.

Given the time of the year, if anyone bothers to ask what’s my New Year’s resolution, I’ll say, “Recruiting voice actors for an upcoming animation project.” That should get the ball rolling.

Health Navigation

I started disliking my primary care physician in the middle of 2025 when she kept giving me the same “advice” that she’d given before despite our previous conversations. I mistakenly thought that she would tailor her practice based on the patient in front of her. Instead, she kept acting as if I weren’t in menopause.

A part of me wished that sweet young thang a nice long life. Long enough for her to enter menopause and regret all the bad advice she’d given patients like me. By the end of the year, I had a new PCP.

For most of my adult life, I’d chosen women healthcare professionals since their firsthand experience of being women led me to believe that I would receive better care, especially if they were women of color. A rarity.

Now, that I’m middle aged, I realize that, in addition to having a woman as my PCP, I need an older woman. Older PCPs won’t condescend to me about having to lose weight because she’ll already know what a losing battle that is without HRT (hormone replacement therapy), an appetite suppressant, or some other intervention therapy to address the effects of a declining estrogen level.

The “exercise more and eat healthy” advice falls flat. I already exercise on a daily basis, don’t over eat, and have improved my diet. Even though I’m stronger and more flexible, I’m about 15 pounds heavier than I was in perimenopause.

Additionally, when lab work returned that my calcium level was elevated, a condition known as hypercalcemia, my former PCP never advised me about what may have caused that. I’d simply asked if taking calcium twice a day for the full daily amount could have contributed. She agreed and I adjusted by taking my calcium supplement once a day. End of story.

Except…

I’d requested a DEXA scan. The former PCP informed me that I didn’t need one until I was around 65, but I insisted.

I don’t want to be superstitious and say that I felt it in my bones that I needed a bone density test. Or that an angel had whispered in my ear that something stirred in my bones.

Whatever the case, the results revealed osteopenia in my left pelvic region. Upon reading that, my first thought was, “That bitch would have had me wait a decade later to get my DEXA scan and by then, I could’ve had osteoporosis!”

I took several deep breaths, comforting myself that I no longer had that PCP.

Once I researched the condition, I learned that osteopenia led to elevated calcium levels. Breast cancer can also cause hypercalcemia. My former PCP addressed neither possibility.

On a more positive note, my new PCP, an older woman who was familiar with HRT, messaged me that my latest lab work showed that my calcium levels were normal and that we’d discuss next steps in April.

In the meantime, one of my friends, who occasionally took dance classes with me and taught yoga, gifted me a discounted yoga instructor package. Since the cost was the same regardless of whether I registered for 200, 300, or 500 hours, I signed up to get the biggest bang for my buck.

When they emailed a reading list, I enthusiastically checked out three of those ebook titles from the library. I dedicated myself to taking a copious amount of notes. Not only was I too cheap to buy the books, but I also wanted to be mindful of not adding to the collection of material things. Besides, I supplemented my notes with online searches, mainly to define terms.

One ebook motivated me to research which poses were effective for addressing osteopenia in my pelvis and another pose to address my piriformis syndrome. I’d never even heard of that body part before.

One day in yoga class, I described a pain I experienced. The instructor, who used to be a massage therapist, informed me that it was probably caused by my piriformis, not merely a tight hip. Up until that point, I’d stretched to loosen my external hip muscles (abductors) with mixed results.

The full circle moment came when I researched relieving my piriformis through yoga. I’d already known of the stretch: pyramid pose. Doing that posture a few times a day, did more for the pain than temporarily numbing the muscles. I’d bought a collection of topicals to see which one worked the best. Instead, all I had to do was take about two minutes a few times throughout the day to stretch.

I’d bought a standing desk to help break up long periods of sitting while at work. Now, I’ll incorporate stretches in addition to that.

In previous years, I’d chosen challenging yoga moves to target an area that needed more conditioning, in terms of strength and flexibility. Now, I’m targeting poses to alleviate pain. As one yoga studio advertised: Yoga Is Medicine.

“Hot” Yoga in the Dark

For two hours, the electrical grid malfunctioned in the county. Just in time to attend my Sunday morning hot yoga class. Before leaving for class, I asked my father’s caregiver to help me carry our generator out of the garage.

Even though Dad had a fully charged portable oxygen machine, I erred on the side of caution. I didn’t want the caregiver to leave before getting the generator, knowing that my 84-year-old mother couldn’t help me move it. Of course, my sister could have helped later on.

As a matter of fact, my sister was the only one who knew how to work the damn thing. I’d meant to learn how to operate it sooner, but similar to the situation where you’re not motivated to fix the leaky roof when the sun’s shining, I’d forgotten all about doing so until then.

I called my sister and had the caregiver leave her phone number on voicemail. I also texted my sister since I knew she was at Bible study and would attend church immediately following. I figured that in between, she’d explain to the caregiver about how to work the generator.

Then, I gathered my things and drove to yoga. Normally, that’s an uneventful straight shot down the street from my neighborhood. Without electricity, even for the traffic lights, that short trip was scary.

At the most dangerous intersection, a woman in the left turn lane eased her humongous SUV into the intersection. I gambled that no one on that fine Sunday morning felt fatalistic. The cross traffic respected our presence. She completed her left turn as I continued straight.

Once I safely arrived at the studio, the instructors all proudly announced that classes would continue. They assured us that since the previous class was hot, our class would at least be warm.

Given the power of cell phones, they all had flashlights and our yoga instructor still connected her phone to the portable speaker. The harsh glare of the emergency light made visibility possible and we still had a strong, crowded practice of motivated yogis.

On the drive back home, there were still no police directing traffic at the busiest intersection, but as soon as I’d safely transversed, I became far more hopeful since the next traffic light worked. As I neared home, I couldn’t tell whether the lights had returned in my neighborhood until I arrived home. I’d purposely left the breezeway light on. It was off.

Dejected, I checked in with Dad and the caregiver before attempting to take a phone-lit shower. When the caregiver informed me that my sister had not called her to explain how to work the generator, I silently fumed.

I took a deep breath, trying not to allow the good vibes from yoga dissipate so soon. My mind mulled over how my sister didn’t apply any of her Christian-ness and “charity begins at home” to the emergency situation at home.

Although Dad’s portable oxygen machine had enough juice until she’d arrived, what if the caregiver had needed to move him from upstairs? The chair lift would have needed the generator to work.

The electricity returned as I calmed myself down. Since no emergency arose during the outage, I knew there was no reason to address why she hadn’t contacted the caregiver. She would have just brushed it off, causing me to get angry all over again.

One of the best things about being an older adult with a temper is that I both accept my limitations and minimize interactions that would flare my temper. Also, I accept that my sister wouldn’t have reconsidered her actions based on hypothetical harm that Dad may have suffered.

After all the internal drama, I watched several videos to learn how to work that antiquated generator. Mindfulness is not merely being meditative in a yoga class. It is also being aware that when the electricity is on, that’s the perfect time to learn a new lifesaving skill.

More Movement Medicine

I’d wanted the same friend who’d attended the modified Barre class with me last month to attend the free introductory class with me as well. She told me that she was already paying membership at three places and didn’t want to add a fourth. I threw my head back and laughed.

I enrolled in a 4-class monthly membership, making Barre my fourth. To recap, I have a 12-class monthly membership for pole fitness; a renewable 20-class pass, mostly for hot yoga, although I’ll do an occasional warm or cool class for a different discipline; and a gym membership for access to an indoor pool and usually one hot yoga class and an occasional Zumba or water aerobics class.

Would I love to combine all of those things conveniently under one roof? Of course! And yet, there are seven days in the week and most of those days find me in one exercise setting or another.

The yoga studio I used to be a member of in Austin had a tagline: Yoga Is Medicine. Well, it’s not just yoga. The key is to keep moving and for some of that movement to be in a group setting.

I’d always heard people complain that working from home felt isolating. I avoid that feeling through exercise. I don’t worry too much about non-exercise socializing because that usually isn’t active and costs money.

Adding to the challenge, I’ve recently started the 6-month adventure of studying for my pharmacy technician’s license. As much as I enjoy nerding-out and learning something new, the truth of the matter is that I want to advance either up the food chain or at least make more money in a different position. The cherry on top is that the company is paying for both the course and the exam.

Regardless of my professional ambition, I have to dedicate nearly an hour a day to keep pace with the online program. So far, it’s inviting coursework, which I can do all on my iPad. I manage to get it all done without having to sacrifice any of my workout time.

One of the reasons the “Freshman 15” was a thing was that more time was spent sitting around studying and not eating well. Unlike when I was freshman in undergrad, I schedule exercise classes and even stand on my vibration plate for 15 minutes after lunch, Monday-Friday, just so I can make sure there’s movement once I put my standing desk down for the second half of the work day.

As one retired woman told me at the gym, for the first six months after retirement, she thought she could become a couch potato and relax into her golden years. At the end of six months, she could barely walk without a walker.

I’ll definitely heed her lived example. Although I’ve aged out of certain strenuous activities such as capoeira, mainly because I’ve slowed down and not in the mood to dodge a kick, there are other strenuous activities that will keep me moving for the rest of my life.