It was supposed to be a class or three to stretch my tight muscles, but...
by Gwenn Jones, CPT, CYT
May 18, 2024; Updated Dec. 10, 2024
The power, the laughter, the rush, the bottomless bass, and the forging of self-confidence–all thunderous and euphoric by-products of my weekly group fitness classes. I was an addict for four years.
Then the gift stopped giving. I hit the wall. The same venue, the same instructor–boredom. Change was inescapable. And, that’s where a bit of a story begins.
What next? Where next?
Maybe I could be “her.”
I was struck. Yes, I could be her. So, in the late 1990s, I studied with one of the finest institutes, tested, and became an *ACE-certified group fitness instructor. A large venue took a chance on me to fill their Friday evening opening. Friday, of course, there’s an opening! But it was a first step and the facility was huge and just outside my native San Francisco.
*American Council on Exercise
With dance lessons, shows, and music full throttle in my family, teaching in front of a crowd won no second thoughts.
Creative choreography came with ease…check. Mixing tunes was painless…check. And within two weeks, the thunder was back. I had power–the power of giant choices to please stoked exercisers. All 30 of them in one room. A new rush was on. My aerobics classes were a hit.
I worshipped the rock concert-like vibration in my belly, the voyage of heat permeating my muscles, and the salt weeping from my pores. It all echoed through me every Tuesday and Thursday night.
Have you been there?
I sweat through a personal trainer certification. Very tough, very technical. Better stated, a no-nonsense nightmare.
Steeper steps
A few years later, another step called for more knowledge and more money. I sweat through a personal trainer certification, LITERALLY. Very tough, very technical. Better stated, a no-nonsense nightmare. I passed. The work and the pay were pretty cool once clients developed. Other weeknights opened up for group, so Fridays went bye-bye. Eleven noisy, rousing years were spent at this first big gig.
But then comes that nasty word. Change.
Sadly, my city-by-the-bay had outpriced me. I relocated to the Sierra Nevada foothills near a couple of gal pals. Moving day was in February. It was Valentine’s Day which gifted me storming rain showers, an obscenely-timed flu, and more than a two-hour drive ahead of me. This fiasco better be worth it.
A few days after restful unpacking (if that’s a thing), I started teaching at a well-known health club. I had already made a trip to the foothills the month prior to audition and was hired. Four more years of blazing classes rolled up in slammin’ bass and gym-folk who swore that faster was better.
There’s a point here…
The gift
I needed an outlet. Curiously, my new-ish territory showed more popularity in yoga than where I moved from. I decided to drop into a lovely yoga studio in Auburn, California. For the heck of it. Years of hard evenings and tight teaching muscles screamed to be stretched (I could hear them). It was to try a class. Or, so I supposed.
Except a building hit me! I returned the next Wednesday night, and every Wednesday night. I had no clue how yoga would alter my life, far beyond my body. Yoga became full of the unexpected. Yoga became a gift.
My body splintered, change was coming
Yes, I had a day job I loved. As an activities liaison in a senior living community for these same four years, my physical being never rested. It took a toll. Rushing to appointments, supervising residents’ travels, and hauling wheelchairs all day ruptured a rotator cuff.
Did I mention I moved my mom up here from the San Francisco Bay Area? That too.
A necessary surgery repaired the shoulder and partial bicep tear. Sick leave was for six weeks. That’s a ton of time to ponder, envision, and consider better choices. As I healed, provocative notions trickled in.
I never predicted all-out love for my yoga sessions. I first imagined them as a healthy necessity. Remember muscles screaming? A physical commitment. Yes, that was enough. But, I became mesmerized by the oncoming aspects of asana. It’s true what you hear… I was hooked. Having a superb instructor didn’t sting either.
Form is always king. In the gym, you don’t typically practice holding a movement for breath, after breath, after more breath. The nature is more dynamics-centric. Freezing a posture with a heavy barbell? Next would be a call to 911. The norm is more like bust-a-move.
As I dove deeper into the styles of yoga, I pursued a certification to teach. The time was ripe. But, what the hell would I do with that? More pondering.
In 2008, I quit both jobs and opened Auburn Yoga & Fitness. Hard work, a business loan, and a great contractor transformed a gunky old dwelling into a stunning star. My workout studio was delivered. I’m all in.
The point?
I struck gold with a sensational second-in-charge who is a killer yoga coach in multiple styles. Some of her tribe travel 40 minutes for her classes. I dub her, Your Majesty.
Years after a gutted building, a remodel, and a loan repaid, my heart and brain are soothed and filled with gratitude. It’s been 16 years of joy, amazing clients, and a few loving leaks in the ceiling.
The gift in the biggest box
Within the wonder of yoga, each day is a lesson. There is innate patience where anxiety once lived. My soul finds human acceptance without opinion. Choices in friends have a high bar. Opportunists are removed. And, my body is strong and mighty.
Our many decade-plus practitioners are part of the paint on the walls. They shine with the southern sun percolating our windows.
Without their groans at demanding asanas, a veil of loneliness would coat me. They chuckle at my always-reliable sarcasm, especially when I chant, “Isn’t this pose fun?” I jump to serve when they request a session with obnoxious dumbbells.
All a true gift of yoga. I thank all for making Auburn Yoga & Fitness Studio a glorious place to BE. ❤️
Article by:
Gwenn Jones, CPT, CYT — Content writer in Wellness-Lifestyle-Fitness, Gwenn is a 25-year ACE-certified personal fitness trainer, yoga studio owner, instructor and fitness consultant. Grateful to be a native Californian where happily home-based.
