Yoga carries a lot of baggage. For some, it evokes images of incense and mantras, spiritual buzzwords and impossible poses. For others, it feels too slow, too warm, too soft, too… something. But beneath the stereotypes is a deeply physical practice that is profoundly grounding, and increasingly backed by science—especially when it comes to aging well. Yoga, it turns out, may be one of the most practical tools we have for living a longer, stronger, and more present life.
And there’s growing science to back it up: Staying limber isn’t just about touching your toes—it’s linked to longevity, injury prevention, and overall physical and mental health. One large-scale study published in The British Medical Journal (BMJ) found that higher levels of physical fitness and flexibility in midlife are associated with significantly lower risk of cardiovascular disease and fragility later on. Another study in the Journal of Aging Research identified reduced flexibility and gait speed as key predictors of mortality and loss of independence in older adults.
Regular stretching and low-impact movement, like yoga, also support healthspan—the number of years we live in good health. A 2019 study in Frontiers in Physiology found that consistent stretching reduced arterial stiffness and blood pressure in middle-aged and older adults, while improving circulation. And even brief daily practices, as little as 10 minutes a day, have been shown to lower stress and inflammation—two major drivers of aging.
Mind-Body Connection in Practice
Of course, I didn’t know any of that when I first stumbled into yoga. I was there because it was something my wife had loved, and she had died two weeks before.
That first class in Houston, the air humid and thick mosquitoes, I waited outside a yoga studio with six others, wondering what I was doing there.
The teacher opened the door wearing slacks and a polo shirt. Not exactly what I had expected—there was nothing mystical or dramatic, just seven of us in a quiet room.
Then: downward dog.
Ouch, this hurts, I thought, arms shaking. Come on, you can do this. No, I can’t. My arms hurt. How long do we stay this way? I think I’m going to throw up. My legs are shaking. This is a waste of time. I could be home with my kids. How can I raise them?
Thoughts of sadness and despair rushed in. My head throbbed. My face was wet with tears. This is stupid, I thought.
And yet—I went back the next night. And the one after that. Almost every night that week, like I was addicted to a drug. I didn’t know what I was in the grip of. I just kept showing up to something that gave me pain, challenge, and—strangely—a bit of relief.
It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t even particularly spiritual. I was fighting myself more than discovering anything new. But something kept pulling me back. A flicker of steadiness, maybe. A flicker of relief. I wasn’t yet aware that change had already begun.
I didn’t talk about my new hobby much. My friends weren’t doing yoga. My clients definitely weren’t. And I wondered if I was becoming too “weird”. But in a moment of unimaginable instability, yoga offered me a structure—one pose, one breath, one hour at a time.
Years later, I understand that this is how yoga often works. Quietly. Persistently. You don’t have to believe in anything mystical. You just have to show up.
And over the years, I kept showing up.
When I moved to San Francisco, my practice came with me—not as a discipline I was forcing myself into, but as a steady part of my daily life and mental healthcare. I didn’t always understand why I kept doing it, but I knew I was better when I did.
In those early days, yoga in America still felt like a fringe idea. But San Francisco had its own rhythm—a mix of old-school studios, strange spaces, and teachers who took the work seriously. I sometimes went to two or three classes a day. I taught Bikram. I practiced after teaching. It was demanding, yes—but it gave me something to look forward to. Something that made me feel connected to my body, my breath, and the ground beneath my feet.
I’m 85 years old now. I recently survived lymphoma, and I am deeply grateful to yoga for helping me stay alive. These days, I practice in short sessions throughout the day—wherever I am, whether I feel like it or not. Sometimes I skip a day or two. But I always return. My body knows, my breath knows: This is the healthiest thing I can do for myself.
You don’t need to be a certain kind of person to do yoga. You don’t have to “get it” or love to wear linen pants. Just take what you need. Let it evolve. Let it meet you where you are.
Doctors Who Prescribe Downward-Facing Dog
More and more physicians are integrating yoga into their practices—not as a fringe idea, but as a meaningful tool for whole-body health.
Dr. Natalie A. Nevins is one of them. She’s an internationally recognized physician, educator, researcher, and a Colonel in the U.S. Army Reserve. Her specialties include Osteopathic Manipulative Medicine and Neuromusculoskeletal Medicine. Nevins has practiced yoga since high school, teaches it, and incorporates it into her medical care.
“You can’t affect any one factor of your wellbeing without affecting all of them,” she told Worth.
She often introduces yoga to patients who are new to the idea. “People have misconceptions about what yoga is,” she said. “They think you have to be flexible to do yoga, but when you look at the many different kinds of yoga, what stands out is that we are all individuals.”
“There are many ways to approach it,” she added. “Whether you prefer static postures, music, or meditation, it really comes down to helping the individual find what fits them, instead of making them fit into something. The key is to find something they enjoy.”
That sense of personalization and adaptability also drives the work of Dr. Loren Fishman, who practices in Midtown Manhattan. A back-pain specialist and longtime yoga advocate, Fishman trained in India for three years, including a year with B.K.S. Iyengar. He now combines medical massage, advanced rehab techniques, and yoga in his treatment of conditions like piriformis syndrome, rotator cuff tears, osteoporosis, and scoliosis.
At 84 years old, he credits yoga for his vitality. One patient told him he was planning a move to Colorado. “I asked him why, and he said he couldn’t sleep. I told him we could work on that.” Fishman offered meditation instructions. A few weeks later, he asked about the move again. “The patient said he no longer needed to go because he was sleeping well.”
For yoga teacher Jeff Renfro, the practice became a lifeline of a different kind. After turning to yoga for relief from scoliosis, he went on to co-own several well-known studios in San Francisco and Berkeley, where he taught for more than 30 years. He also studied with the B.K.S. Iyengar family in India, served on the board of the San Francisco Iyengar Institute, and has taught both Bikram and Iyengar styles.
When I asked him why people do yoga, Jeff shrugged. “Who knows? There are so many reasons. Everyone is different and has their own story. Try yoga, see if it works for you, and if it doesn’t, try something else.”
Start with One Posture—or One Breath
You don’t have to change your whole life to begin. Just start simply. One stretch. One breath. One moment of presence. A long journey always begins that way.
If you’re new to yoga or returning after time away, it’s always wise to check with your doctor—especially if you’re managing an injury or health condition. And if physical postures aren’t accessible right now, practices like meditation or breathwork can still offer real benefits.
Jeff Renfro recommends starting with a single posture. Hold it for a minute or two. See how it feels. Then, if it feels right, do it again later. Yoga doesn’t have to happen in a studio, or in a full hour. It can happen in your living room, at your desk, or wherever you find a moment to listen to your body.
There’s no right way to begin. Just begin. Let it be yours.
