When It All Began
Thailand, 2008, when I traveled for six weeks for a yoga training
It seems we all come to our mats for different reasons initially. After my first real yoga practice in 2003, I decided that I hated yoga. I couldn’t touch my toes. I felt like an imposter. I didn’t know the weird language they were speaking. And I had zero body awareness. All in all, I didn’t feel “good” at it.
As it’s now 2024 and I own a yoga business, you know how the story ends. But how did it all begin? I masochistically kept practicing yoga even after declaring my hatred. And I did it for the most un-yogic of reasons: I was extremely competitive.
In high school, I used to practice Yoga Booty Ballet on VHS in my mom’s living room when no one was around. I was the girl who could fast pitch a softball, slalom ski, and own the squat rack at the gym, but I was certainly not graceful, nor flexible, and I had never donned a ballet slipper or tutu in my life. It could be that I was the third girl in my family and my dad treated me like the son he always wanted. But for whatever reason, I have always valued feeling strong and capable. Even at 16 years old. I couldn’t tell you why I bought that VHS tape or how I even learned about it, but I did the same darn workout a few times a week, and every time we got to the yoga part at the very end, I wanted to turn it off. I remember feeling envious of the teacher who could so easily fold forward with her legs wide, seated on the ground. Her elbows touched the floor! My fingertips barely did.
Early in college, I was a devoted gym-goer at Equinox in Chicago. I begged my parents for an annual membership for Christmas. This gym was the swankiest I’d ever been a member of, even to this day, and came with every fitness class you could hope for. Simultaneously, my best friend from high school was getting into yoga down in Naples, Florida, and she encouraged me to try a class. And that’s where the quiet competition began.
My first class at Equinox was with Robert and I almost fell asleep in it. It was slow, it was confusing, he kept referring to our hips in class and I had no idea what he meant. I have my thighs and I have my butt, where are these hips he speaks of?! I drifted off in savasana and felt exposed and also surprised. I left class embarrassed by how inflexible I was, which is ironic, because one of the number one reasons people tell me they can’t do yoga is because they’re not flexible, to which I always reply: but that’s WHY you do yoga! Regardless, I was curious enough and competitive enough to try a second class. If my best friend was going to “get good” at yoga, I was too.
The next class I tried was with Wade. Now this was right up my alley. It was faster, it was harder, it had these crazy poses where you tried to balance on your arms, and I felt that familiar feeling of power in this class that I felt in the gym. He played fun hip hop music and had a laidback, surfer-type vibe. His classes were packed. And I felt like I was part of the crowd.
I could see and feel the progress in my body within a short amount of time, par for the course for a 19-year-old. When my fingertips inched closer to my toes, I felt triumphant. When I found balance in crow, I felt unstoppable. But then something else happened. When I started to hear other things in class like the cues to notice my thoughts, explore my reactions, deepen my breath, that’s when it all changed. Yoga was no longer a workout. It slowly became a practice, a lifestyle, a way of being.
Since I was a broke college student, I practiced yoga at gyms because it gave me the most bang for my buck. I switched to the Chicago Athletic Clubs at one point and took Erica’s classes religiously. She taught vinyasa and a wild style called Ashtanga that both challenged me and kind of scared me. I didn’t know what the difference was between the two, but the way she taught felt different from one to the other. One day, Erica passed out free class cards to the yoga studio she taught at, Yogaview. I didn’t own a car for five years in Chicago, so I took two buses to get there, walked the extra blocks, and dutifully bounded up the stairs to the incense-filled lobby that felt both peaceful and inviting. The experience of taking class in a warm, light-filled room without gym music blaring from beyond and bright red paint screaming at me created even more intrigue around this practice. The ambiance offered a mood. It mirrored the teachings. The heat helped me move more easily. And the quiet and seriousness of the students lent more introspection and curiosity.
I couldn’t afford to go that often, but the times I did kept influencing my love for the practice. When I saw the sign for their teacher training, I had been practicing consistently for three years. I had just recently graduated from college with a BFA in advertising and was working as a graphic designer at a small ad firm in River North. I hated it. If I didn’t get to my yoga class in time because of a stinkin’ deadline, I was royally pissed. I could see where my life was headed in the ad world. Late nights, cutthroat environments, nasty competitiveness as I vied for a spot at Leo Burnett. Ad parties, drugs, unhealthy takeout, office politics. None of it shouted incense! or wellness! or peace! So I did what any 22-year-old does. I quit my job without having any money and I applied to yoga teacher training. “What’s your return on investment?” my dad asked me. And I had no idea at the time. I just knew I wanted to learn more, live a different life, and love my job.
My first 200-hour yoga teacher training opened up a brand new world for me. I meditated daily, made great strides in my strength and flexibility, and challenged myself to spit words out and teach my peers even though I was terrified and shy and quiet. Beyond the physicality of it, I started questioning our social constructs and what I thought made a great life. I became more spiritual and reflective and felt more in charge of my life. I transformed in beautiful ways. I grew up in that studio. I flourished.
At the same time that I was studying yoga, I was also working on my personal trainer certification. I had dreams of being in the fitness world full-time, so that’s what I did. And like most people who go that route, I became addicted to knowledge. I went to Thailand for a second 200-hour yoga teacher training because the first one was so impactful and 300-hour programs were fewer and further between back in 2008. I studied pre- and post-natal fitness, TRX, kettlebells, mobility, and olympic lifting. But what remained steadfast for me was my hunger to deepen my yoga practice and teaching. One of the things my first teachers taught me was to always hold on to the beginner’s mindset. Once you think you know it all, it’s over. And that goes for anything in life, don’t you think? So I kept learning. I studied with every teacher that came to town to lead workshops. I devoured books. I kept unrolling my mat in classes. I joined other studios and taught in as many places as I could. I practiced when I traveled and eventually got my 300-hour certification in California. I got the confidence, 14 years after my first training, to write my own 200-hour training. And after leading other people’s programs for them, I was able to lead my own and graduate my first six students. After 16 years, I can tell my dad the return on investment has been fruitful.
What I have always loved, what has forever captured my heart, is that this practice is called a practice. Because it’s never over. Both physically—we can keep strengthening and challenging our bodies—and spiritually. When people think of yoga, they most often think of the physical poses. But when I think of yoga, I think about my approach to life. The way I react to things. The relationship I have with my mind. The outlook I maintain. The permission I give to myself to experience life fully. That’s yoga to me. And that’s the one thing I hope never changes.
Hi, I’m Jenna.
A yoga instructor, trained pastry chef, major book nerd, and former graphic designer. I have a zest for life and am passionate about continuously upleveling my growth – and bringing others along for the ride. My aim is to guide individuals in discovering themselves fully so they can walk through the world
100% self expressed.
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