Yoga, Yucks & Yums

Monday morning, I kicked off the week with an early morning hot yoga class at Lyons Den Yoga in NYC, and let me tell you—it was exactly what I needed. A total reset. I heard someone describe it as "shedding the weekend," and that’s exactly how it felt.

The combination of sweating out all the antics, quieting my mind, and moving my body was nothing short of magic. It reminded me why yoga has been a (semi-regular) part of my life since high school. And by semi-regular, I mean I’ve fallen off the wagon about 100 times, but hey, I always come back. I've been back to weekly (ish) cadence for the last 6 months or so.

1st, shoutout to my buddy Ace Cowans for introducing me to yoga back in high school. At the time, I was a self-proclaimed “athlete” (read: kid who played sports and thought he was the next big thing), and Ace was actually a real athlete. I didn’t start yoga because I wanted flexibility or recovery or any of that. Let’s be honest, I was 17—I didn’t need those things. I could eat a gas station hot dog, nap for 10 minutes, and bounce back like nothing happened.

No, I started yoga because I wanted to be as athletic as Ace. Plain and simple.

So one day, I joined Ace at a hot yoga class. Picture a 100-degree room, an hour-long flow, and a 17-year-old me who had no idea what he was walking into. At that time of my life… I didn’t drink much water (who did? Water like just became cool). My diet was trash. But regardless, I assumed I was invincible. Spoiler: I was not.

Within 20 minutes, I was dying. Not metaphorically. I left the room twice to catch my breath (and to avoid puking all over my yoga mat). I lied and told Ace I just needed to “refill my water,” but in reality, I was getting my ass handed to me by a bunch of people twice my age.

I wouldn’t say I was hooked after that first class, but I was OBSESSED with one thing: the sweat.

It was INSANE. I left that room drenched—like I had just showered fully clothed. My body had literally never done that before. It felt like a total reset, and I couldn’t get enough. I kept going back, kept pushing myself, and slowly but surely, I got better. I stopped taking breaks (as many, at least), spent less time in child’s pose, and more time flowing.

I’m a believer that a real hot power yoga class is the ultimate meditation. What makes a “real hot power yoga class” you ask? Well, (1) You need a seasoned instructor (not a 20-something who did an online yoga course, this person needs to have been to Costa Rica & Bali like 12 times). (2) Calm music. No mash-ups or dance beats. Yoga is about tranquility. You should NOT be singing along or feeling bass. And (3) The room is hot as fuck and NO weights are available. You don’t need weights where we’re going. Weights would maybe kill you in a true hot yoga class. That’s how hot it is.

You don’t have time to think about anything else—not your to-do list, not your problems. You just go. You lose yourself in the flow, focusing only on your breath, your body, and surviving the next pose.

It’s hard to explain, but there’s something magical about being pushed to your limits in that room. You thank yourself for showing up, and then you just keep going.

In a cliche way, yoga forces you to confront your own discomfort—physically, mentally, emotionally. And when you push through, you come out stronger. It’s not about being perfect or nailing every pose; it’s about being present and staying in it, even when it’s hard.

If you’ve never done yoga, give it a try. It’s one of the few things in life that can reset your brain and your body in one shot.

Also Shoutout to Lyons Den Yoga for absolutely kicking my ass. Highly recommend if you’re in NYC. If you wanna go ever, lets do it. Love bringing people to get their assed handed to them in yoga.

BTW, I mean no offense to your workout class that you like to do. I NEVER want to yuck your yum.