When I was in college, there was a popular infomercial that came on at all hours of the night. Daisy Fuentes was the host, promoting a workout that I had never heard of—something called Mari Winsor Pilates. My roommate, Megan, and I used to watch it as we ate Haagen Dazs (Dulce de Leche for her, Vanilla Bean for me). The boys across the hall often would sit down and study it with us. We all watched it for one reason: To admire Daisy’s body. It was insane. And yet, I never considered actually doing Pilates. At the time, I was a marathon runner with an 18-years-old’s metabolism. Pilates was not for me, I thought. It was for models and actresses. I was an athlete.