I’ve been practicing yoga pretty regularly for a few years now. For the first three years, I was a member at Flow Yoga Center in Logan Circle. It’s a great studio – very homey/crunchy with friendly teachers who go out of their way to learn your name. But when my membership expired in November, I decided to explore a few of the other local studios to see if I could find an equally good fit closer to my house.
I’ve now tried two other studios – Tranquil Space in Dupont and Stroga in Adams Morgan. It’s actually been a fun experiment, and by taking advantage of new student specials or online coupons, I’ve saved a ton of money in the process. (Unlimited monthly yoga is usually around $125/mo. I’ve spent an average of $45/mo during this process without scaling back my yoga at all.)
Anyway, all of this is just preamble to tell you about this morning’s yoga experience. As soon as I signed up for the class online, I regretted it. It’s called “Signature Stroga” and billed as an intense hour of strength-building cardio. Not exactly what I was feeling for a rainy (read: lazy) Sunday morning, but the timing was ideal.
So I went. And it was every bit as brutal as I expected. The class vaguely resembled an aggressive vinyasa class, but with an exponential number of push-ups, squats, and lunges. The instructor, a woman named (no lie) Olga, issued commands with a Russian accent and was oddly cheerful for someone who seemed to be striving to make us pee blood before the hour was over.
There was really no recovery time between sets, and at one point I contemplated barfing on my mat just to earn a time out, but then I thought I might be forced to eat it, so I didn’t. Well, that wasn’t the only thing holding me back.
As I climbed the stairs to the class, I heard someone call my name. I turned around and it was Amanda, a classmate of mine from MSU, whom I haven’t seen in 15 years. It was great to see her, but when we rolled out our mats next to each other, I was thinking, “AWESOME. I’m about to have my ass handed to me, and I get a witness who knows me. SWEETNESS.”
As class was winding down, the teacher said, “I hope you enjoyed this!” At this point Amanda and I made eye contact and I was glad to see that her expression was along the lines of, “Enjoy??? I’m just glad to be alive, you masochistic crazy lady!”
Exactly.
Epilogue: As a result of this yoga experience, I ran to Lululemon and bought a new tank with a built-in bra that is equivalent to what Judy Garland wore when filming The Wizard of Oz to make her look pre-pubescent. Because despite my bitching, I will go back. But next time, I don’t intend to risk my eye sight.
pithypants 
Yoga can poke yer eyes out? Oh, oh!