If you live in West Georgetown, chances are that sometime during the day you’ve noticed any number of well-toned young women clad in yoga pants and toting a tightly rolled mat, trooping off to some hidden fountain of youth. It’s a mesmerizing migration, and one that until fairly recently I’d thought to be off limits to the general population. Their destination, Down Dog Yoga —located behind Dean and Deluca off of M street—has in recent years become a staple for both aspiring and established Georgetown yogis.
I’d heard of Down Dog before from friends in a variety of social circles, from the progressive bro to the unnecessarily health-conscious Corpie, but the cult-like zeal present in each conversation kept me skeptical. My impression of yoga had always been that it was an effeminate, trivial excuse for exercise, a gimmick whose glacial pace combined with zoned out instructors to turn a workout into a sweaty stretching session. But after tweaking my back in Yates one morning on the heels of a pretty extended bender, my workout options were limited. Plus, I reasoned, the first week at Down Dog was free. There are worse people to give an hour and a half to than a fit woman in tight pants. How hard could yoga be, after all?
I got to the studio a few minutes early to fill out the requisite paperwork, and I immediately noticed a few things: first, the heat. It wraps around you like a fuzzy blanket, a spillover from the balmy main workout room. Second, each of the employees were exceptionally friendly and accommodating, renting me a free mat and towel for the upcoming sweat-sesh. To my delight, the people in attendance weren’t nearly as spacey as I expected, and the conversation sounded strikingly similar to the kind you might find at a regular gym.
After I’d completed the necessary prerequisites, stowing my shoes in a cubby and setting up my station, the instructor got started. If you have already attended a flow yoga class, you’ll be unsurprised to read that my admittedly low expectations were blown away—we started off with a few quick warm-up positions, and within five minutes my arms were shaking and my towel was a sweaty recreation of a late Jackson Pollock.
Yet, despite the difficulty of some of the poses, I didn’t feel hurried in the way that I do during other workouts, racing to finish with the desperation of a deep sea diver about to drown five feet before surfacing. Rather, we were coached to embrace the sensations we were experiencing, to view the session not as a war against the body but as a collaboration with it. It was a novel approach to me, and one I enjoyed. After an hour and 15 minutes of seemingly limitless perspiration, we finished and exited. As anyone who’s ever gone to Down Dog will be enthused to tell you, the moment you step outside into the fresh air is extraordinary. This time was no different.
As a senior at Georgetown, it’s easy to become complacent, to find a pleasant routine and stick to it. And yet, some of my most profound experiences here have come from trying things I had no business trying. This is not to say that every new college experience has been a good one—I will never again opt for late night shwarma over late night Tuscany, and I’ll probably stay away from Modern Lounge and Bar. I wouldn’t, on the other hand, take any of those choices back because even if they didn’t lead me to some new interest or affinity, they widened my horizons and made me richer as a person.
Since my first visit, I’ve gone back to Down Dog several times and have been pleased to find that the experience only gets better with practice. As a beginner, my form is atrocious; on the other hand, I’ve got nowhere to go but up. And while I may have gone into the experience a skeptic, I’m glad that I gave yoga a try.
Stellar article. This guy is super funny and cool. And also probably really handsome.