I may not be the best advertisement for Pilates. Whenever I’m asked what it’s like, I say “A mix of ballet, yoga and the Spanish Inquisition.” The image of the Inquisition torture racks might account for some of the strange looks I get.

My body is a good advertisment, though. Twelve years ago — yes, twelve! — I hobbled into the studio for physical therapy, just a few days after my back had gone out yet again.

“What do you hope for from Pilates?” Lori asked me.

“Never to find myself paralyzed and in agony on the floor again,” I said.

That’s why I began Pilates. What made me stay was the fact that it keeps me interested. This, as several men in my life can attest, is not easy. Each time I think I’ve “got” Pilates, I seem to find yet another level. The simplest exercises may become the most challenging. The most complex can become suddenly easy. Ones that felt pointless snap into muscular place.

Now I’m finding I’m literally in better shape in my 60s than I was 20 years ago. And when the sweat’s pouring off me and I’m scooping like crazy, and muscles I could swear I never had allow me to do things I never imagined, I feel like a teenager just beginning to explore her body!

- Lesley Hazleton, author of the book After the Prophet:  the Epic Story of the Shia-Sunni Split in Islam