YogaWorks--Center For Yoga: Vinyasa Flow 2/3

9/7/2010

Have you noticed that when you talk to people who have done yoga for a while in LA, everyone’s always all giddy about the Larchmont location of YogaWorks? You hear some of the most emphatic statements you’ll ever hear about any studio from yoga-doers giving their review of the place. I’ve heard such articulate accolades as:

“Oh man, it’s awesome. It’s like, so Zen.”
“I live in Long Beach and I’d drive there for a class. I mean, I don’t, but I would. It’s that good.”

And I always thought, “but it’s YogaWorks.” Not that the enterprise hasn’t played a significant role in my yogic development, but it’s just...you know, so...corporate. I mean that in a nice way--it’s like Target on a microscopic scale. I like it; I think it’s a good company (except for that recent high-profile donation to that anti-gay political campaign--WTF, Target?!). But I go there because it’s easy to get to, certainly has something I’m interested in spending money on, and can always fit into my schedule. It’s not a bastion of the artisanal; it’s not where I seek out any off-the-beaten-path type of product. But person after person insisted that if I like a cozy space (yep) and if I gravitate toward Anusara (heavily, thank you), then I’d like this place.

I am ever-distrusting of an Angeleno trying to sell me on any product--physical or intellectual. I’ve been in one too many dressing rooms where some 19-year-old circles around, beholding me in a $400 frock that gives me the look of a tree stump dressing for a Justin Bieber concert, and exclaims, “I feel like, I dunno, that like, looks reeeeally good on yooooou!” But I had a free pass from this awesome book my husband got me, so my first excursion for La Brea and East Month was to the Center for Yoga.


I’ll just say it; I loved the place. I’m beginning to think that LA yogis know something about me. My trip to CFY was nothing short of delightful. I chose the 8:30 AM level 2/3 class with Carolina Goldberg because her bio cited training with several of my faves (Shiva Rea! Erich Schiffman! Saul Raye!), and her classes were described as “sweaty and physical” (um...yes, please). I had a brief disappointment when I was informed upon arrival that “Marlize will be subbing,” but I emphasize that it was brief. The shiny, glowy being that was Marlize instructed us through a series of poses that seriously challenged my yoga mojo, including one particular sequence of ardha chandrasana and virabhadrasana 3 linked by various other one-legged balances that blew my mind, not to mention my sartorius, vastus lateralis, and tensor fasciae latae. The poses were intelligently linked, built upon a theme, with instruction that was ever-conscious of coaxing the student to the edge, but never over the cliff.

The studio maintained a bohemian feel in spite of its YogaWorks parentage. It was housed in the second story of a brick building with a palpable old-soulfulness; this is a studio where it feels organic to take off your shoes when you enter. The large classroom (was this once a basketball court?) that hosted my class was graced with scads of natural light, courtesy of the panel of skylights spanning its width. Props of all kinds were plentiful, and though we didn’t use them in this particular session, I was glad to see that the posterior wall was outfitted with ropes, meaning that somebody here offers an incarnation of that anti-gravity class where you get those super-juicy stretches into muscles you didn’t even know you had. The front desk staff was attentive and helpful (shock!), the boutique was respectable in its offerings, and the signature YogaWorks offering of hot tea was, of course, in place. Even for a YW location, the schedule is impressive in its scope of both regular classes and workshops, and goes as late as 10 PM a couple of nights per week. The studio has captured my attention and can be guaranteed a return visit from me--perhaps next week at the same time, when I can count on either the intended class from Carolina, or another equally-satisfactory happy accident.

YAS: Yoga for Athletes RIPPED

8/17/2010

In July of this year, the YAS enterprise decided to address the one obvious (resistance-training-shaped) hole in their fitness program, and started offering YFA Ripped. I’m already something of a YAS devotee. Then they hyped it up at the end of every class, and being the sucker that I am for almost anything advertised to me in person, I decided to check it out last week. When I checked in and was given a pair of three-pound weights, my first thought was, “So this is weightlifting I can do when I’m sick.”I was mostly right. The class consists of most of the basic, preset YFA sequence, but has students holding asanas for longer so that ten or so reps of various arm toning exercises can be completed while in the poses. For someone who already lifts weights a couple times a week, the weight-lifting component was not particularly challenging. The challenge was presented more in the form of being forced to hold poses for longer, to concentrate harder on holding them while you do something else. It’s also a step above the normal challenge to ujjayi breath. I left the class with the sense of having done something of a Pilates hybrid, even though we spent little time lying on the mat and did nothing particularly Pilates-like, save for the usual suspect asanas that straddle the yogalates border and can show up in any given class. But it had that air to it--that nonchalant, peaceful, let’s-make-our-muscles-do-something-that-doesn’t-seem-that-hard-and-see-how-long-they-can-do-it-for, we’re-not-sweating-but-rather-leaving-class-with-a-dewey-faced-glow, I-know-you-don’t-believe-it-but-you-WILL-be-at-least-a-little-sore-in-eight-hours vibe. It’s an appropriate vibe for the times of day that the class is offered--the early (for me) time slot of 8:30 AM and the afternoon-slump (for me) spot of 4:30 PM.

It delivered on the promises of its subtexts. I was a little sore that evening and the next day. A little. But my efforts with the weights at the gym routine haven’t made me sore in months (yes, that’s my fault), so I’m not criticizing.

Chatting with the warm, soothing and thoroughly stunning instructor after class, I got the impression that the typically hard-core clientele of YAS hasn’t really made up its collective mind about the new class yet. Students who try out the Ripped class fall into one of two categories: the “it’s not harder, just different” camp, and the “OMG that’s crazy hard” camp. I have no real evidence for my assertion, but I’m willing to bet that the dividing line is the same one that runs between those who do regular strength training and those who do not. Either way, YFA Ripped provides a nice option for variety in the fitness routine of members of either group. Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you know that variety is key to continuing to yield maximal results from your routine, and that all of us should be doing some kind of resistance training on a regular basis for the maintenance of our metabolism, balance, coordination, body composition, and joint stability over the lifespan. And if you have been living under a rock, grab that sucker and overhead press it. It’s good for you, and when you’re old, you’ll be glad you did.

YAS Silverlake
1932 Hyperion Ave
Los Angeles, CA 90027
323.665.6011

YAS: Studio (Franchise) Overview

My relationship with YAS has evolved over the years. I first became acquainted with the establishment back in my early twenties, when I was experimenting with horrifying my parents by being a Venice-dwelling faux hippie (which I now realize I had screwed up from the get-go by having a regular job). At that time, my exercise routine consisted of rollerblading up and down the boardwalk, the weekly-or-so visit to a yoga studio for a class that sounded like mostly stretching (IF, you know, the universe opened the doors for me to make it there AND the Collective Consciousness didn’t like, I don’t know, pull me to fulfill my destiny somewhere else in that moment), and lots and lots of walking around Venice. It was on one of said walks that I came across the original (and then only) YAS on Abbott Kinney. It seemed appealing enough with its edgy urban green-and-gray color scheme and silhouettes of people on bikes and in yoga asanas. I was intrigued...well, enough to remember to Google it a couple weeks later, anyway. Like the good faux hippie I was, I was immediately repulsed by the bio of the place and the founder. Ugh. Yoga for ATHLETES? And without CHANTING? Didn’t this woman, this Kimberly, understand the essence of yoga? The point wasn’t to get a good workout--it was to leave and have that pseudo-enlightened sense of “humble” superiority all day, as well as to remain in your foldover pants for hours too long and delude yourself that people see you as some free-spirited breed of cool because you must have just come from yoga. And spinning? Forget it. That sounds like it’s for cracked-out exercise junkies. This place was clearly for fanatics.

Fast forward to a couple years later. I’d unwittingly worked my way out of the hippie mold I never really fit into: I moved inland (to Palms!), I found a stable, no-drama relationship with a fantastic guy, I had a serious job. And I was in grad school. Groan. Oh grad school. That was an experience never to be paralleled (I hope) in perceived stress. Some days, all my best coping skills--journaling, meditation, reiki--just weren’t enough to give me relief. There were days that I just had to sweat it out. I quickly learned that this could be done efficiently on a spin bike. And that spin bike, before I knew it, was at YAS.

It was a short fall from that first spin class to complete adoration of the whole operation. With a combination of moves of residence and jobs that put me commuting between West Hollywood and Downtown, I found myself grateful that the enterprise had franchised to other locations, and transitioned to a YAS “home” in Silverlake, which I found to be pretty similar in aesthetics and overall mojo to that of the site of my original revulsion-turned-veneration in Venice.

Being a regular spinner made me a person who regularly needed to have the kinks worked out that spinning put in place. That Yoga For Athletes bit? To the chagrin of mid-2000’s me, I have to admit that it’s actually a laudable counterbalance of activity for people who exercise heavily a couple times a week, which somehow I became one of as I shed that ill-fitting hippie cocoon. (Who knew that the reason a lot of people exercise a lot is that it feels GOOD?) True, the version of yoga offered here doesn’t have that super-zen, introspective aspect that I do still enjoy in a yoga class. And true, as a standalone yoga class, it is not the most challenging or original thing that the City of Angels has to offer. It’s a pre-set sequence of asanas that are well within the wheelhouse of most people who have practiced consistently for at least a couple of years. (I think of it as “the yoga class I can do when I’m sick.”) But there is something comforting about knowing what to expect, and it does have that just-right blend of poses that you didn’t even know you craved after spinning. Besides, if you’re like me, lifting your SIDIs into your passenger’s seat after a spin class is taxing, so a YFA class immediately succeeding spin (a.k.a. “Indoor Cycling” at these studios) is sufficiently challenging. Even taken non-adjacent to spinning, it’s still a nice way to coax your muscles out of the rigidity induced by any manner of strenuous activity you may have engaged in the day before. If you’ve been to class before and are familiar with the sequence, the no-surprises aspect allows you to customize your practice to your particular stiffnesses of the day without burning up all your yoga fuel before the end of the class.

YAS Venice
1101 Abbot Kinney Blvd.
Venice, CA 90291
310.396.6993

YAS Silverlake
1932 Hyperion Ave
Los Angeles, CA 90027
323.665.6011