Make no mistake: I'm no stranger to gyms. I've held a regular presence in some gym or another literally since I was a young child (my father, a lifetime fitness buff, instilled a gym-ethic in me from the get-go). Just, for whatever reason, I've never done my yoga in a gym, despite it being the location of choice for many yogis. Me, I like my yoga outdoors, with sun and nature and wide-open spaces. Why'd I resort to the gym today? Simple: fall allergies. It's the one thing that can see my yoga relocated indoors (that, or a hard rain).
That said, I found yoga in a gym to be satisfying, if mundane. I performed it in the facility's designated stretching/kettle bell/ball-workout area (another first for me, setting foot in this space). I was quasi-delighted to find a complimentary mat, already set out, which proved somewhat more comfortable than my own. As a cute footnote, the sun shone through the nearby window, gracing me with sumptuous light (if not the vitamin D-producing goodness filtered by the glass).
Once done, I felt oddly matured, as if I'd lost some sort of virginity.
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