The summer I spent working at a major men’s health and lifestyle magazine which shall go unnamed was the summer I got over the fear of seeing my coworkers in spandex. (And, yes, vice versa.) At least I thought it was.

That’s not to say I particularly enjoyed jogging on a treadmill at the office gym next to a dripping, grunting, 11-miles-per-hour-sprinting editor who, an hour later, would hand me one of my stories covered in red pen.

But in an office where health is business, both personally and professionally, and where overhearing reporters on the phone with urologists discussing certain apparatuses that may or may not enlarge certain parts of one’s anatomy was "normal", I sort of got used to it. We worked health, and we lived health. And spandex = health.

Fast forward a few years. I now work at a large state government agency. We like healthy people, but it’s not our only focus. Most of my coworkers are my parents’ age. The ladies ooh and ahh over my “fabulous,” “adorable,” “those-can-NOT-be-comfortable” shoes as they look down at their those-are-definitely-comfortable soles.

When the ad for yoga classes popped up on our internal Web site, of course I jumped at the chance to take an hour-long relaxation/exercise (read: bliss) break once a week. It wasn’t until I signed on the dotted line that I started to get a little nervous.

Do I really want to stand behind someone bending over in yoga pants one minute and sit in a meeting with him/her the next? And, more importantly, does he/she want to have a front-row seat of my downward-facing dog…and then edit my press release?

Especially in an atmosphere where we don’t eat, sleep and breathe health and fitness (or, unfortunately, taste-test protein shakes, ride little bikes around the office and have Nerf machine gun fights), I’m getting a little nervous for Thursday yoga to begin.

My strategy will be this: Choose baggy pants, stare straight ahead and use it as a networking opportunity as I try to do with everything around here.

Question is whether anyone will want to hire me after they see my sad, sad chaturanga.

How do you feel about working out with coworkers? Good idea? Bad idea? There must be some good stories out there!

Thanks to Andrea Fregnani for the fab photo (which I hope was taken at work).