It took a political stunner for a couch potato to try yoga – and it worked.

There’s a joke about vegan CrossFitters that goes something like this: How do you know if someone is a vegan CrossFitter? Oh don’t worry – they’ll tell you.

Apparently – or so my family and friends tell me – I’ve reached that level of jerkitude when it comes to yoga. Approach me with a relationship problem (“My parents/spouse/significant other/kids are being impossible right now and I’m so stressed out”) and I’ll listen, nod and ask, “Have you considered yoga?” Approach me with a work problem (“Ugh, the publisher of the alternative weekly newspaper I work for is being impossible right now and I’m so stressed out”) and I’ll listen, nod and ask, “Have you considered yoga?” Something physical bothering you? Paper cut, maybe? Bubonic plague?

No really, have you considered yoga?

I’ll come down the stairs on a Saturday morning while my husband is hanging out in the living room with the two most worthless terriers to ever grace the planet, catching up on John Oliver with his cup of coffee in his hand, and I’ll announce I’m going to yoga. “Well there’s a surprise,” he says, in a tone that indicates it’s no surprise at all. “It must be a day that ends in a ‘y.’” Or I’ll throw on my yoga tights in the afternoon and he’ll say, “Didn’t you already work out this morning?” and I’ll respond, “Yeah, but that was cardio and weightlifting. This is yoga.”

How did it come to this? I was forced to confront the question thanks to Weekly Art Director Karen Loutzenheiser (not a vegan, but a CrossFitter and world-champion sailor), who told Editor Sara Rubin (not a vegan, but a runner/swimmer) that since this week is the paper’s annual health and fitness issue, I should write about how I went from being a devoted couch potato to someone who plans their day around the schedule at Yoga Salinas.

The reasons, if I go back and search my memory, were partly for mental health, and partly for physical health.

I had been working out with a trainer at Peninsula Wellness Center (now Montage Health), an Amazon goddess of a woman who still kicks my ass a few times a week while also making me laugh, and I had reached a point where I needed to change up my workouts.

Running was out of the question – I only run if I’m being chased, and even then, I’m painfully slow. Kickboxing looked interesting, but the possibility of being punched in the face made me queasy. Pilates? Not in Salinas. Barre? Definitely not in Salinas.

Then came the 2016 election, or as I like to think of it, the start of the great unravelling of our collective mental health. I needed something that would combine physical activity while bringing some mental clarity. I needed something that would take all my attention.

I ended up in a restorative yoga class, which is really a group nap, with blankets and bolsters, done in a darkened room. You zone out on the floor in various positions, focus on breathing and come back to the present an hour later, mental clarity in check.

I then dipped my toes into a basic hatha class, which requires breathing and movement to be synced in a way that requires deep concentration, lest one fall over while attempting a tree pose. I moved to a level-two class, where the tiny, fierce instructor only recently told me that my downward facing dog was much improved from when I started. I go to a weekly yin class, which is awesome – when it’s over. During the class, it’s pretty much like being pecked by a flock of angry ducks – annoying as hell, but it’s not going to kill you.

My mind still sometimes wanders during class. I once spent 45 minutes of a yin session trying to decide what was better on nachos – cheese sauce, or shredded cheese that’s placed under a broiler. There’s one song an instructor plays almost every class that sounds like a woman repeating her grocery list – and she’s especially worried about forgetting carrots and peas. But I turn 50 next week and I haven’t felt this good in a decade or three.

I’m still freaked out about the state of the world, but far less freaked out about my own health and state of mind.

MARY DUAN writes The Local Spin for Monterey County Weekly. Reach her at maryrduan@gmail.com.