2012 yoga vancouver will blunderfield

In Which I Once Again Find Myself At the Yoga.

Here's the thing about yoga: Shmeh. I get why it's good for me and stuff, but - it just doesn't really get my exercise mojo going, you know? I always start with good intentions, go to a few classes a week, and then months go by before I get back to the studio.

On Monday I went to Westcoast Hot Yoga in Yaletown because lululemon told me so. No, really. I'm training for the SeaWheeze half marathon and my training app told me I had to do hot yoga that night. So off I went to WCHY, mostly because I'd been there before (pre-renos). I booked myself in for a random class and found...




This man, yoga teacher slash singer slash makeup impressario, in black eyeliner and peacock feathers, made me sweat like I had never sweated before, except in a sweat lodge, but then - well, nevermind. I sweated alot. And he played Leonard Cohen before our class. And didn't whisper. And made us sing "Row Row Row Your Boat" as our mantra as opposed to singing some words in Hindi I don't know. And he talked about Lady Gaga. And made us hug each other. And do yoga in a line, like rockettes. And only do one goddamn downward dog, which I totally hate anyway. And he said so many life-affirming things (like "own it before it owns you" - "it" being that feeling/fear/person/habit bringing you down) that I was literally yelling "Amen" along with him as he preached from his self-styled "yoga church." And then, when he belted out "Any Dream Will Do" from Joseph at the end of the class, Broadway Styles?! Well, this musical-theatre-nerd-turned-reluctant-yogi found her Yogi Master.

Is $24 pricey for a drop-in? Oh, probably. The studio's nice, your admission gets you a towel, a mat rental, and tea afterwards, but really? You go for the people. And as long as Will's there, I'll be going to WCHY. Even if he makes me do downward dog.