In the glory day of my awkward Middle School years, I received the devastating news that my hand-eye coordination was "satisfactory at best." While my team effort and ability to take orders and listen were both deemed excellent, any activity involving basic human movement was on the border between average and sub-par. I am not a born athlete, and I am not a born champion. The mere thought of long-distance running once triggered such hysteria and hyperventilation within me that I was diagnosed with Exercise Induced Asthma without much further testing. The doctor prescribed an old-school, expanding inhaler and weeks of intense psychotherapy. What he failed to prescribe, however, was a healthy dose of self-esteem and a weekly Monday-night yoga class.

Maybe it's my hereditary high cholesterol that compelled me to sign up for beginning yoga, open to both students and faculty members, or maybe it's my intrinsic bourgeois need for classic irony. Regardless, two weeks ago I found myself, quite literally, in a very compromising position. To be precise, I found myself in "Adho Mukha Svanasana." Or, for those of us who don't speak yoga, "Downward facing dog." If hovering over a yoga mat on all fours with ones buttocks elevated several feet above the rest of ones body does not spell humiliation for the cynical and ungraceful, I'm not sure what does. Fortunately, I am perfectly confident that what I do in the yoga classroom is not only healthy but undoubtedly essential for a woman of good breeding. A woman who isn't afraid to energize the body, stretch the shoulders, hamstrings, calves, arches and hands, strengthen the arms and legs and help herself relieve the disheartening symptoms of menopause. A maturing woman like me.

In a quest to find myself, I naturally turned to the cyber-highway for answers. Upon visiting yogajournal.com, I found that, as with every guilty pleasure, danger is but a step away. To my horror, I found that "Downward facing dog" is no exception. Elevated blood pressure, headache and even carpal tunnel syndrome are possible detrimental effects of this feel-good pose. Despite fears of sounding unlady like, I would also like to bring to attention possible bowel disturbances that may result by means of over-zealous stretching. You may question me, but do you dare question the cyber-gurus?

Abiding by the unspoken code of professional journalism, I see to it that my argument has reliable sources of evidence. To confirm the seedy underbelly of stretching and muscle-strengthening exercises, I conducted a four-hour, online interview with e-yoga expert, SPORTZ-QT2003. What she told me was absolutely jaw-dropping. "Once, in basketball practice, we had to do this really weird stretch called the 'wet seal,' u know? Coach was really really lame." She continued unabashedly, "and he was fired half-way through the year. Probably because he was a total psycho and loved yoga and, like, sitting outside of the public library in his Dodge Neon, wearing his solid maroon gym suit. LOL! What a freak and loser! BRB." The words speak for themselves: Yoga is the laissez-faire market of the competitive sports world, ladies and gentlemen. Buyer: Beware! Buyer: Beware …

Having finally gathered the courage to candidly share my deep insecurities with the greater readership of this weekly publication, one of my deepest regrets to date is that I have already used a fair share of Richard Simmons and Jared Fogle references in articles past. While I may be running low on cheap, but inspirational sources of humor, I do, nevertheless, have my bases loaded with sincerity and a revitalized willingness to put all joking aside and reveal the true purpose and meaning behind this article. In all honesty, yoga has been an uphill battle for me. If it sounds as though I mock the sport, the truth is I am just like the third-grade bully who teases because of his or her own debilitating self-hatred. While I thought yoga would be an easy route on the map of fitness, I find that I genuinely feel the burn. And, while I may be among the youngest members of the class, I am by no means the most dexterous. In fact, I manage to hold up the class with my inadequate agility, and with my bad attitude. What I needed was a reality check, and yoga was the sassy J-Lo of athletics that gave it to me.

In all honesty, however, this is an article of hope for some, and awareness for others. Two years ago I was diagnosed with a condition called "Runner's Knee." While, traditionally, the affliction is known to strike professional athletes such as …say, track and field runners, and I have run just about seven times in my timespan on this Earth, I have grown to take my destiny and treat it as a learning experience. "Runner's Knee" (or "Walker's Knee" as it is referred to in Olympic speed-walking circles worldwide) does not discriminate between athletes and non. "Runner's Knee" does not care if you scored the winning touchdown at the Homecoming Football game or if you scored the role of Maria in Westside Story your freshman year of high school. "Runner's Knee" only knows that we are all human and that a lot of us have knees. So, here's a question for all of us: Why can't we be more like "Runner's Knee?"