Capitol Hill Yoga - Chapter 4

Perhaps the chapter that most defines my yoga journey is yoga studio co-owner. I was the co-owner of Capitol Hill Yoga from 2009–2015. This is how most people in our Washington, D.C. neighborhood first came to know me.

I was one of three owners when we opened. We contributed equally to opening costs and each owned a third of the business. We put together a detailed business plan. We had a facilitator help us lay out our commonalities and differences with small business factors such as relationship to money, organization, programming, etc. We collaborated to form the studio’s purpose and vision. We carefully laid out and documented each owner’s responsibilities and salaries.

Capitol Hill Yoga was a single studio space located six blocks from the United States Capitol. We held about 25 classes a week and had a dozen teachers on staff. On a typical week 400–500 students came in for a class. Most lived in the neighborhood, which also meant many worked for the federal government. I always felt this was my deepest service — giving people who spent their days creating, debating, legislating, and deciphering our laws a safe space to destress, stretch and strengthen their bodies and minds, and approach their next day with a positive, clear, and open mindset. We endeavored for the studio to be a haven for all to connect with themselves and their community.

I was the operational lead for the studio. The person most present day to day. I lived within walking distance, and I loved spending time at Capitol Hill Yoga be it teaching, welcoming students at reception, cleaning between classes, and generally making certain everything was running smoothly.

I can look back now and see this was my sweet spot. I took care of the space and the people in it. I wanted everyone that walked through the doors to feel welcomed and well cared for.

Not long after the first anniversary of the business opening, two of us joined to buy out our third partner. At the time I was in my third trimester, soon to give birth to my first child. Now a 50/50 owner, I positioned myself to step up more than ever, certain that I could take on small business ownership and motherhood in equal measures.

My maternity leave equated to a few weeks working less hours and an (unpaid) month off teaching. I was practicing attachment parenting — driven by what I thought a good yoga mom should do. For me this showed up as nursing on demand, baby wearing, co-sleeping and no outside childcare. The only time I left my baby’s side was for the few hours a week that I taught class. And often even then I’d wear the baby to the studio and transfer her to my husband as class began. They would walk the block during class, and she’d reattach to me as soon as savasana ended.

The lifestyle completely drained me. I was empty and lost, yet I didn’t want to give up that good yoga mom ideal. I couldn’t let anyone know I was suffering.

Finally, when baby girl was about 15 months old, I cracked. It was way too much. I told my husband and my business partner I couldn’t go on.

I admitted the attachment parenting had seeded me into postpartum depression. I finally bought a stroller, waned off breast feeding, hired a babysitter for a few hours a week, and added some responsibilities to our part-time studio manager.

Not coincidentally, this was when Anusara Yoga fell in scandal. It was a wakeup call that I needed to stop living by someone else’s yogic ideals.

As time progressed, I gave myself more leeway to recalibrate who I was as a yoga teacher, small business owner, business partner, wife, and mother. I found my way back to me by training for and running a marathon. My husband and I also found a better groove as parents.

On the business front my co-owner and I re-wrote our partnership roles and responsibilities. We were on good footing as best friends, yoga buddies, and business partners. Again, a sweet spot.

Though even in those sweet spots, the financial reality of running a local yoga studio is rough. We’d have months at a time of forgoing our salaries to cover expenses. We made very difficult choices to change teacher pay structure that resulted in losing a couple of our fantastic teachers. When we opened in 2009 a drop-in class was $18. When I exited the business in 2015, students were now paying less per class (necessary to stay competitive in the market), and yet our expenses were significantly higher. It was not a winning formula and all the good karma and love and light in the world can’t make up for that.

The more we ran the numbers, the more we concluded if we were staying in the game, we needed to expand. The student demand was there. We considered moving locations to a bigger space that held two classrooms. We also considered expanding to a second location with more square footage.

Within the conversation to take on a new 5 to 10-year lease, coupled with a bank loan, I got cold feet. The negotiations had also strained our partnership in new ways. Each little crack became a gorge. The risks were too substantial, and at the end of the day I stepped away from the business.

It wasn’t neat or pretty. I regret how it ended. I regret that Capitol Hill Yoga isn’t in business today. I regret losing my friendship with my business partner.

The transformations, the sweat, the joy, the sorrow, the community, the love, the support. We did it all in that little basement space on Pennsylvania Ave. I remember the restorative yoga class my partner treated my family to the day before my wedding. I remember staff and students helping when a woman’s water broke during prenatal yoga class. I remember the yoga block mazes my daughter would build as I cleaned the studio in off hours. I remember watching students take their first deep, easeful breath of the day as class began. I remember waking up students after an especially restful savasana. I remember watching students light up when they finally got both feet off the ground in a hand balance. I remember the way students held me as I struggled to teach through grief after losing my dad. I remember the frustration and the laughter that would arise for students when a pose didn’t go so right. I remember bittersweet teacher training graduation ceremonies. I remember our community.

Yoga has so much to offer and yet finding success within the yoga industry is full of pitfalls. I’ve landed into many. I’ve climbed my way out many times too. I guess the eight limbs of yoga are also like the eight lives of a cat.

Many know I went on to do it all over again as Partner with Realignment Studio from 2017–2020. That is a full story of its own, but I’m not ready to write it. It took me seven years to look back at Capitol Hill Yoga…so maybe around 2027.