Mondays, Mat Time, and Midlife Flexibility Wins

Yesterday marked a small but meaningful first: Ralph and I did the 6PM Monday yoga class at Daily Prana. That may not sound like a big deal, but it was actually our first time doing yoga on a Monday night—ever. We’re technically on the twice-a-week plan, usually hitting our mats on Wednesdays and Saturdays, but let’s just say… life happens. And by “life,” I mean random absences that seem to multiply like rabbits.

Thankfully, Daily Prana is not your run-of-the-mill rigid wellness studio. One of the things I really appreciate about them is the flexibility (pun intended). When you miss a class, you can make up for it—just ask the lovely Jen at the front desk, as we did. So, we showed up for that Monday night sesh, trying to make our bodies remember we once did this daily. Yep—daily.

That was back when I joined Master G’s legendary 21 Days Challenge program. Back then, we went to the studio twice a week and did Zoom yoga the rest of the days, which sounds intense but actually kept me out of the doctor’s office. Now we’re planning to go back to daily sessions for real—no more virtual half-commits—once our renewal comes up. I promised Master G that once we officially settled in Bacolod City, we’d jump back in full force. No turning back now, right?

Anyway, before the session started yesterday, I noticed a lady by the reception—probably around the same age as Manang Cecile, who, by the way, is so flexible I sometimes wonder if she has actual bones. The lady was holding a copy of the price list, chatting with Jen, clearly interested but still in that “Should I? Should I not?” limbo.

Naturally, I butted in. I mean, how could I not?

I gently nudged her—OK fine, I gently bullied her into considering enrollment. I told her what I always tell curious walk-ins: “Just take the plunge. Enroll. You’ll thank yourself later. Maybe not after the first session when you’re sweating buckets, but definitely after.” She didn’t join the session, but she did take a peek through the glass before leaving. I hope that little peek—and my unsolicited pep talk—helped her finally decide.

Now, back to the session: it was hot. Like post-rain sticky humidity hot. We all came out of it drenched, like we’d just been baptised in sweat. But it was also one of those good yoga days. You know the kind—when your body bends instead of breaks, and you don’t feel like you’re a stiff mannequin in a sea of ballerinas.

Big credit to my massage therapist, Ivy, who gave me a serious stretch last Sunday. I’ve been feeling like the Tin Man in downward dog lately, but yesterday I finally felt like I was back. I didn’t feel like the odd one out. I actually kept up. I flowed. And I enjoyed it.

Here’s the thing: I have a love-hate relationship with yoga. There are days I leave the studio thinking, “Why am I torturing myself?” But then there are days—like yesterday—when I walk out thinking, “God, I needed that.”

And my body knows the difference too. Whenever I skip yoga for more than two weeks, my joints act up. My knees used to get aspirated every other week. But with consistent practice, those flare-ups disappear. I can go months without seeing a doctor. And no, it’s not magic—it’s movement.

So yes, some days Ralph has to drag me to the mat kicking and screaming, but I’m grateful he does. Because this 46-year-old body? It’s still doing things that make me proud. And that’s thanks to yoga.

Thanks to Daily Prana. Thanks to Master G. And honestly? Thanks to me—for showing up even when I don’t feel like it.

So, if you’re one of those people still hovering around the studio reception, price list in hand, unsure whether to commit—this is your sign.

Come join us. Sweat, struggle, laugh, stretch. You’ll hate it some days—but trust me, you’ll love what it does for you.