It's a quirky place, located in the midst of a business/industrial park. There are a bazillion most excellent basketball courts -- hence, a very lively youth sports/development program. This makes me smile, thinking of the Number One and Two Sons' journey through YMCA youth sports.
And, oh, there's adult fitness too. A serviceable cardio/weight area -- and group classes.
Group classes. Hmmmm. I've never been much of a fitness class type person. Till now. I'm in: Yoga and Zumba. You've read it here. And here's why: I need to tone up.
There are no vending machines on The Lane.
But I digress. Let's talk yoga for just a moment, shall we?
I took a yoga class several winters ago in Bermtopia. We met in a church basement. Classes were cancelled due to snow, rescheduled in OTHER church basements, cancelled due to snow, rescheduled. . . . oh, you get the picture.
Nevertheless. I fear I may be terminally yoga-challenged: (1) The class is at 8 a.m. Following my first outing, I deduced two cups of French roast were not advisable. (2) I have bad feet. Thanks to bunions, my left foot still takes a sharp right turn at the big toe. Balance is not happening.
|Operative word: Balanced. Sigh.|
Not me. Tap. Tap. Tap on ye olde yoga mat. That's my (sorta) uplifted foot assuring I don't do a side plant in yoga class. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Yoga instructor Jim observes The Tree is done without tapping toes.
Tap. Tap. Tap. I will return, Yoga Jim. I will return.
Tap. Tap. Tap.