Category Archives: Fitness

Struggle Makes You Stronger

It doesn’t matter how you slice it, dice it, package it, or present it; rejection in any capacity hurts. Unfortunately, a by-product of going after things in life is being told no or that you’re not good enough and in the end one just has to be resilient in coping when things don’t work out as anticipated.

Specifically, I discussed a little while back that I was auditioning for a slot to be invited to coach at the new Orangetheory Fitness opening in West Hollywood. As you all know, OTF is my favorite way to sweat. So when I was invited to audition for the new studio I was giddy and ready to show my stuff. Leading up to the audition, I studied the script for days. I recorded myself reading it and walked around town running errands listening to myself. I played it while in my car driving. I forced my sister Kassi to Facetime with me and listen to me practice. I spent the 2 days before the audition presenting the script aloud to myself while alone in my apartment.

I psyched myself up telling myself I can do this over and over and over again.

I watched and listened to Arnold Schwarzenegger’s 6 Rules to Success.

I did everything within my power to ensure I set myself up for success so when I walked into that room, they’d have no choice but to offer me a space in the training program.

Turns out when Greg and I arrived for the audition there were over 40 people there. No one told us we’d actually be taking a portion of a class led by one of the trainers and we were freshly showered but oh well—ain’t no thang.

The workout ended and we broke ourselves into groups of 5. The group audition consisted of 3-minutes on the mic walking participants through the beginning of an OTF class. Out of the 5 people in our group, I can say with confidence that Greg and I put on the best show for the team evaluating us. We got through the entire script, infused our own unique energy, and were able to hit all the necessary numbers i.e. 22-26 strokes per minute on the rower to warm up. Personally, I think Greg and I crushed it. By no means did I assume the job was necessarily ours but I walked away from the experience knowing we did a killer job and was proud. Needless to say when the rejection emails came, we were shocked and disappointed.

A glimpse into last week’s Sunday Sweat class at One Down Dog

Greg was informed that he placed in the top 10 of the 40+ people and I was told I placed 8th. We were given some great kudos regarding our audition but no real feedback as to why we didn’t make the final cut. The initial sting of rejection hurt. But as time ebbed on, I started to really think about who I am and what I offer as an instructor. I concluded that I am a badass. Going into this, I vowed I wouldn’t let my self-worth be associated with getting or not getting this job and I am thrilled to report I haven’t let myself get caught up in the negativity of not getting something I wanted. No one can define my self-worth but me, period. So I didn’t get the job and that is a major bummer, as I would have loved more than anything to represent Orangetheory Fitness. However I remembered that I teach yoga and cycling in LA to throngs of people who come to a workout that I design for them with a carefully orchestrated playlist. I stand in the humility of the work I do and the honor to teach for such incredible people. I am truly blessed and thankful for all of the beautiful souls who continue to show up and trust me with their workouts.

Furthermore, I know that I am capable of boundless things because I believe in myself. Even though I may not always come out on top, I won’t stop continually putting myself out there. I do not regret for a second gambling on myself, for if you never try and take a chance, you’ll never know.

Take a risk and take a chance on you.

You are worth it.

Every attempt to be great prepares you for greatness. Dream big and never quit on yourself even when it seems others may not see your power.FullSizeRender

Work Your Butt Off!

Day 5/6—Work Your Butt Off!

Nothing and I mean nothing in my life has ever been easy for me. Everything I have, everything I have achieved, every success I have tasted has been due to gritting my teeth, rolling up my sleeves and digging into do the dirty work. Without hesitation, without thinking something wasn’t possible I know that with hard work anything and everything is possible.

When I decided I wanted to be a fitness instructor I didn’t know anyone in the industry. I knew I wanted to be a fitness instructor and that was enough. I was just going to have to make it happen. I took my first fitness certification course with Mad Dogg in Spinning in July 2012. I was mesmerized by the podium and fantasized about being up there. Shortly after my Spinning training, I had my first cycling audition in West Hollywood at Cycle House. While I know I didn’t tank the audition, I also know I didn’t crush it because I didn’t get the job. But not getting the job didn’t really seem to bother me because the feeling I got while on the instructor bike—the exhilaration, the sweat, the power, the ability to inspire, had me hooked like a drug. I didn’t feel defeated by not getting the Cycle House job but couldn’t wait to get back up on that instructor bike and do it again.

My second audition was for LA Fitness [Hey, we all gotta start somewhere]. I left my middle school teaching job early to drive ALL the way across town to audition for a shot to snag some indoor cycling classes. I showed up and walked into the cycling room to see bikes I have never seen before or ridden on. These were Keiser bikes [barf]. Slight panic set in. Hoping Monica, the woman auditioning me would be compassionate to my cause, I let her know that this was my first time riding a Keiser bike. The audition was quick, not even a full song in total length. Monica gave me some pointers about my RPM’s then glanced down at my resume and paused. She looked up and matter-of-factly stated, “Oh, you teach yoga.”

“Oh no, no. I don’t teach yoga. I take yoga” I divulged.

“Well, could you teach yoga?” Monica inquired.

Without hesitation, I mustered my confidence and said, “I mean, I’m a teacher, I guess I can teach anything…?”

Right then and there without ever having actually taught yoga, Monica had me take her through a flow. Two minutes later I was hired to teach 1 cycling class and 2 yoga classes a week for $15 a class.

I was so ecstatic a gym hired me and that I had THREE CLASSES too! I didn’t stop to think that there was anything wrong with my pay rate—I was now officially a fitness instructor!

My tenure at LA Fitness was transformative. I really honed my craft, found my voice, and met some amazing people that are still dear friends in my life. As my hunger for teaching fitness seemed insatiable, I started auditioning at boutique studios and larger, more reputable gyms. Concurrently, I started teaching at a small studio in Redondo Beach called Studio Pulse and was also on the schedule at Spectrum Athletic Clubs in the South Bay and Redondo Beach. However, as my classes filled at LA Fitness and I eventually earned my 200-hour Registered Yoga Teacher certification, I wanted my pay to reflect my certifications and packed classes. Besides, I was making way more than that elsewhere but I was loyal to my membership following and felt indebted to LA Fitness because it was where I started. I held out a while. The timing didn’t feel right. So while living in Hollywood and still teaching middle school English full time, I took every single fitness job I was offered—no matter the distance. At one time I was teaching in Redondo 2x a week, South Bay, Westwood, AND Studio City [and that’s not counting when I subbed classes too!]. Needless to say, I put a ton of miles on my car. However, I knew that in order to get to the top, you’ve got to start at the bottom. Finally, I knew the time came to leave LA Fitness when I met Jessica Rosen, the owner and founder of One Down Dog (affectionately referred to as ODD) in Silverlake. She took my yoga class and hired me on the spot. I was going to be a real yoga instructor in a real studio! I think having someone believe in the work that I was doing gave me the confidence to finally walk away from LA Fitness. Nevertheless LA Fitness refused to give me a pay raise and with One Down Dog, I put in my two weeks notice.

As One Down Dog worked to gain its footing in those early months, it was hard work but never felt like ‘work’. Jessica was starting a new studio. We were building a following, handing out flyers, and hustling to make ODD happen. For whatever reason, it just felt so right. With so many moving parts and the new studio, I still busted my butt to the beach cities multiple times a week to teach indoor cycling. I knew that the more I taught, the more people I was in front of, the better I got. With every class and every playlist I was gearing up to muster the courage to audition for the big guns. The gym of all gyms: Equinox. I knew that when I went to audition for Equinox I wanted to blow it out of the water. I knew I wanted them to want me and that meant I had to be awesome.

Turned out Equinox was getting ready to open Encino and they had a hiring day in Downtown LA. I was invited to attend the audition and told I would hear more about it later in the week. Later in the week came and went and I didn’t hear anything. But my friend who attended the hiring fair did hear back. Fortunately for me since she told me where the audition was being held, I decided to crash it. I thought the worst-case scenario was that I didn’t get to ride and the best case was that I got to audition and show my stuff. I did indeed get to ride and I felt think things went really well. I was confident that I nailed it.

Well I didn’t.

I felt a huge sense of disappointment and wanted to know where I could improve, but that was that. I wasn’t going to be an Equinox instructor.

Then by a stroke of luck about 2 weeks later I landed another Equinox audition via another cycling instructor friend. This time, after the audition I was welcomed to the Equinox Family as a sub.

It has been almost 3 years since I walked out of Equinox South Bay as a sub. I am proud to report I have had various classes at Equinox clubs all over LA and still actively sub all over town when needed. Now I call Equinox Glendale and Downtown my homes with regular classes. The magic of my work and my journey to Equinox are never far from my thoughts. And just because I achieved what I set out to do doesn’t mean I don’t stop striving for excellence. The real work has only just begun because when you’re not working to be the best—someone out there IS working to beat you.

Always, put in hard, hard, hard work and work your butt off!

Don’t Be Afraid to Fail

Day 3/6—Don’t be Afraid to Fail

Fear is a funny thing. It tricks us into living boring lives because we are afraid of failing. We are so paralyzed by the possibility of things not working out the way that we envision that we quit on ourselves before we even start. All too often, we’d rather accept to resolve that ‘this is just the way it is’ and leave it at that. But what kind of lives are we living if we are living to simply wish and hope, and not chase after what we want? No one is going to live your life for you, No one is going to be able to help you figure out what it is you’re supposed to be doing—so maybe it’s time to put some work in and figure out what it is you want out.

Life is way too short to condemn yourself to misery. Today, we are going to F**K our Fears and instead of being terrified of failing, we are going to re-evaluate how we look at failure. Failure doesn’t mean that you weren’t successful.

Failure means you took a risk and you tried. Failure is an opportunity to grow from your mistakes, learn from those around you, and emerge victorious. Failing makes you courageous because you took a chance. To try and fail means you were brave and didn’t sit idly by as a bystander to your own life or circumstance.

No matter how crazy or lofty my ambitions have been and continue to remain, I couldn’t possibly fathom a life where I lust for things and never try to achieve them. The more impossible the ambition, the more terrified that I am, the more I know I need to listen to my intuition and commit to whatever is speaking to my heart.

OTF birthday
Sweaty post OTF class on my birthday 2 days before our wedding
As promised, I will share what I am working through right now. Last February 2015 I wandered into Orange Theory Fitness Los Angeles in Brentwood. Within what seemed like just minutes, I completely and utterly fell in love. For the first time in years, I rediscovered an aspect of working out I hadn’t been able to find on my own. For what seemed like an eternity, I was generally uninspired by the things I did while sweating which in turn caused me to gain weight and become unhappy. But things were different at Orange Theory Fitness aka affectionately referred to as OTF. The challenging workouts enveloped me. I discovered that after all these years of thinking I hated running that not only did I like it [gasp] but I was good at it. I never ever thought I would say that—I was always dead last on every team run while in college…Now, I was a runner and I wasn’t just keeping up with the group, I was setting the pace and leading the pack. OTF showed me through the challenging workouts how to find my strength and power again. I learned more about myself in a matter of months while consistently working out at OTF than I had in recent years while fumbling from workout to workout. Soon I found that when I couldn’t make my workouts I missed them; I longed for them. I wanted to be there and what’s more, I started to crave running. Crazy, I know. I felt this massive shift inside my body. At first it started slowly then came on suddenly. I started to subscribe to this notion that I could do anything. For me, the strength and power I cultivated at OTF fueled my confidence from within and I started to feel more capable of putting myself out there in a variety of situations, even if that meant I might fail.

Naturally, as my interest in OTF evolved I started thinking about what it would feel like to work there as a coach/trainer. While I didn’t openly discuss my wonderings with anyone, my curiosity was peaked and I wanted to learn more. So when OTF posted on Facebook that they were hiring, I immediately sent in my resume with an email expressing my interest to be considered for coaching opportunities. I remember the excitement I felt just sending my resume over and crafting the email. I know it was just an email but this was the first step and I was eager, proud, and excited all at the same time. While I had no clue what this could or may mean with respects to my teaching job, I sent my info along because if you never try or take a risk, you never know. And you can’t get too caught up in thinking too much about these things either. Sometimes we over-think things and talk ourselves out of doing them. Other times, we spend so much time thinking about what would need to change in our lives should something present itself that we never even bother because the idea a big change seems to be ‘too much’. Well screw it, I say go big or go bigger.

OTF meThis upcoming Saturday, along with my husband Greg, I will be auditioning for a spot to be admitted to the OTF training program. The process for selection and admittance is competitive and frankly, it intimidates me. I am terrified of not being able to showcase the best me on the mic in my 3-minute audition. As a matter of fact, I have spent the last week going over scenarios in my head. I know my anxiety is driving my husband nuts because he keeps telling me to relax. Yet amidst my anxiety, as always, Greg has been instrumental in holding firm space for me by reminding me of the following:

  • If I do not get invited to the training program, I am still a talented instructor. While I may not be right for OTF, I am still great at what I do and I cannot let the possibility of not getting this job define my self-worth.

Additionally, my mother reminded me last night that should it not work out, it wasn’t meant to be. Of course both Greg and my mother are right but rejection no matter how you slice it or dice it hurts. Nevertheless I am going into my audition on Saturday with the best version of myself, ready to rock the hell out that room, and spread my awesome. It’s that simple. I believe in myself, I have to. I stand firmly behind the woman I am and the work that I do. I will not let the idea of failure hold me back from putting myself out there and taking a chance on myself. What’s more is I refuse to let my recent doubts and insecurities hold me back. Because I am terrified about what this audition will entail is precisely why I am doing it.

I am not going to let fear define me or dictate the trajectory of my life. I am in control of my successes and I choose to try instead of accept things as they are.

What scares you? What are you scared of doing because you are fearful of failing? Put it out there and embrace the possibility of failure as a learning experience. I know you can do it, now you just need to believe in yourself.

Break the Rules

Day 2/6—Break the Rules

There are all these rules that we always need to abide by: don’t do this, you can’t say that, you can’t wear that, etc. We allow ourselves to be defined by these self-imposed chains that we permit to shackle us and it’s absolutely horrible. How can we possibly thrive if we are constantly functioning within someone else’s set of rules?!

Recently, Oprah Winfrey was slammed for having published in her magazine that only people with flat stomachs should wear crop tops. The backlash was intense leading thousands of woman taking to the interwebs to proudly share their bellies whether someone else found them to be flat or not (click here to learn more). Who’s to say what and how we should wear something?! If you want to wear a crop top and you feel good in it, wear a crop top. I kind of feel it’s that simple. Personally, for me clothing has always represented such a terrible source of frustration. I am short. So unless I buy pants in ankle lengths there’s about a foot of fabric that needs to be hemmed. And let’s not talk about my thighs and waist. Trying to get a pair of pants over my thighs let along fit me in the waist has been my life-long struggle. Ladies with thick thighs, you know the struggle and it is very real [never forget though, thick thighs save lives].

For the life of me, I never understood who designers make clothing for: most people are not 5’10…I often leave shopping excursions empty handed, frustrated, and many times in tears feeling like shit because nothing fits. What’s more, is I wish I had an ounce of the confidence many of the woman in this article have to wear the crop top and own their bodies in their awesome splendor. I think for me, much of the insecurities I encounter with my body don’t come from not wanting to love myself—because I do. For the first time in my life I have embraced my legs and now they’re my favorite body part. It’s more so about what I do for work as a fitness instructor. I worry that people will look at my body, judge it, and think I don’t work hard, eat right, or couldn’t possibly know anything about working out since I myself can’t get a handle on my own physique. Again, this is my shit.

Everyday is a battle to look in the mirror and love what I see reflected back to me. So in an effort to start building myself up, when I get dressed for work in the morning I stand in front of my bedroom mirror naked and tell myself something I love about myself. I know, it sounds hokey; talking to yourself. But try it. The power of positive affirmations have been proven to work. For if you don’t build yourself up, no one else will. You must first see your self-worth before others do, so start believing. The time is now.

To put it in perspective:

Despite what people have to say about Miley Cyrus I have to say I really admire her. While I didn’t have time [ok I forget] to watch last night’s VMA’s, I did get a chance to read about what she wore. Slammed by so many people for wearing her signature outrageously bold and minimal outfits, I looked at the pictures and thought to myself: You go get it, girl. Keep doing you and who gives a crap what the world thinks. You can see what Miley wore by clicking here.

If you don’t bend or break the rules and interpret them on your own accord, we don’t allow space for innovation and genius.

Arielle Miller-CohenI have had bright purple hair for over 2 years. Over the years, it has gotten brighter and now I have dyed the front of it blue. I don’t offer any apologies for wanting, no needing to express myself. People often ask me or stop me on the street saying, “Oh, but you couldn’t have a real job with that hair!”

Idiots. Not only do I have a real job, I have a Master’s Degree too. When are we going to stop passing unfounded judgment on people solely based on one’s appearance?!

I refuse to consider employment, let alone work anywhere I cannot have colored hair, need to cover my tattoos, or stifle my need to express myself. I am an individual. I have passions and interests and those passions and interests contribute to the person I am and how I leave my mark upon this world. Bottom line, I just need to be me.

Like it, love it, or leave.

I don’t offer any apologies for who I am. Strong and fiery, I voice my opinion regardless of whether it represents what others want to hear. My honesty has made me unpopular but I am not here to win any congeniality contests—I am here to live my truth and that means upholding the highest level of integrity I can so that my truest and most inner-self can flourish.

How do you uphold your truth? How do you Break the Rules so that you can continue to blossom and leave your mark on the world?

Go Get ‘Em

Last week I talked about feeling completely and utterly broken down and demoralized. And while feelings are feelings and we should feel them and honor them, I certainly don’t condone wallowing in self-pity.

My words last week were meet with your support and affirming words of understanding and appreciation for giving you a voice. After my post went live, the comments, texts, messages, and emails flooded in for days. I was so humbled to be a representative for the voiceless as that’s always my goal as a writer. Well, I want to give us a new voice, rather another voice. I want to give us the ability to see the power in goal-setting, putting it all out there, and chasing after things we want. I want us all to reformulate our energies and look ahead to the future as goal-crushers and I think I have just the right amount of focus and inspiration to do that.

Still reeling from my bruised ego and shit show at last week’s IG Getaway in Santa Monica, my dear childhood friend contacted me reminding me about this video he had been wanting me to watch on You Tube. Busy for a change, his requests got lost in the shuffle but then yesterday while savoring the calm before the storm of students bombarded my day, I finally watched the video he sent me: Arnold Schwarzenegger’s 6 Rules to Success. Click here to watch it, or watch the embedded video below.

Now, I know. You’re laughing because it’s Arnold. You know, the former Governor of California, the Terminator, or even the same man marred by having an affair and an illegitimate love-child with his cleaning lady—Yes, THAT Arnold. I laughed at first too, even told my friend Craig that I couldn’t possibly have anything to learn from this man. Oh, how utterly wrong I was—I happily ate those words after watching that video. Arnold’s words pierced to the depths of my soul. I cried listening to him for it was as if Arnold knew I was fumbling aimlessly, and listlessly, trying to figure out who I am, what I am supposed to do, yearning to find my purpose in this world. I wrote down his 6 rules:

  1. Trust Yourself
  2. Break the Rules
  3. Don’t be Afraid to Fail
  4. Don’t Listen to the Naysayers
  5. Work your Butt Off!
  6. Give Back to Others

11951893_10100789393057021_5778588276736185_nAnd while devising a lesson to bring this incredible information to my high school students, I realized that I had to share this with my readers too. Let’s do something together over the next 6 days.

Each day I will feature one rule from the list in the order they’re posted above. Each day I will discuss how that rule will take shape in my life and I will share my goal-setting to achieve success with all of you. But the work isn’t done there! You have homework too!

For each day I post, I want you to hold yourself accountable by commenting and posting your road map to success for that specific rule to success. Start brainstorming now, because we start tomorrow!

It is time to stop wishing and wanting and time for us to manifest that shit. We are in this together—I can’t wait to hear from you all tomorrow: Trust Yourself.

My Yoga is Ugly

It has been a while since I have been able to take a yoga workshop and spend time under the instructorship of a seasoned instructor and just learn. So when my friend Armen of Pack Your Mat let me tag along to join him at the IG Getaway in Santa Monica I was stoked.

The day was started ripe with anticipation. We arrived early and poked around at the vendors. I must admit, my schedule has been crazy and I haven’t hit my yoga mat in a while so I was a little nervous but I was ready to discover new things.

My attempt to practice opening my shoulders in a supported hallow back–I am NO WHERE near where this pose should be or even looks like!
My first workshop was with famed yogi Mackenzie Miller. I intentionally choose to attend the Backbend Workshop since I struggle immensely with any sort of backbend. Immediately, I liked Mackenzie. She’s a teeny little powerhouse who is funny, quirky, and incredibly knowledgeable. She is down to earth and grounded despite her 157k followers on Instagram. Mackenzie had us introduce ourselves to someone we didn’t know in the class and for me that helped decrease my anxiety. Not knowing what class would entail, I set my mat to the side and near the back. Everyone seemed to know one another and seemed at ease. With their six packs taunting me in their cropped yoga tops I felt exposed and uncomfortable. I was wearing my favorite pants, my 2-year-old Lulus and an American Apparel tank but my outfit clearly wasn’t stylish enough to be considered cool [I guess it’s a good thing I have my hair going for me]. Class hadn’t even started yet and I already felt demoralized. There were men there, but I didn’t even notice. My eyes and brain only ruminated on the long lean limbs of these instayogis and all I could think was I don’t belong here and “Shit. I can’t believe I let myself think that even for even a second I belonged here.”

Class started.

The warm up was vigorous. My muscles were shaking. No stranger to sweat and hard work, I relished this challenge. Then the workshop portion started. We moved through a series of backbends—each completely and utterly inaccessible to me. I felt an overwhelming sense of shame and self-hatred. I started to shut down and knew the eagerness and smiles had faded and was now being replaced by rage. The darkness had crept in and I was assaulting myself—I’m too fat, I don’t practice enough, I’m a bad instructor, my body is just wrong, why did I come here…and the thoughts went on and on. They just didn’t end.

Now, in the interest of transparency, here’s a little aside: I am working through some shit at the moment. Recently, I have allowed my confidence to become completely shaken by some feedback I received regarding my teaching and style and I can’t seem to move past it. I have been swimming in self-doubt and insecurity and to top it all off, since I have been playing soccer again I can barely walk. The pain in my right knee is intolerable and I am panicking.

With my compromised confidence and the constant worrying about my knee, an intense backbend workshop literally brought everything to the surface and I felt myself crying. I’ve cried in yoga before but not like today. This was an angry cry and I didn’t like it.

I coveted the skinny girl in front of me who not only wore white yoga pants, but she looked amazing in them. I envied the girl in the sports bra with the subtly toned abs and her effortless handstand. Finally, I just sat on my mat, observing and then taking notes:

I feel really bad about myself here 

Out of my element 

Out of my body and unable to do what I will it to do

I feel like I’m a prisoner of my physical self and I’ve condemned myself to thinking I’m worthless because I can’t do these poses

Is this what yoga has come to, or shall I say, is this how my yoga has evolved? I had no reason to get so upset. After all, this was their practice and well, this was mine…Simply, I teach yoga but certainly don’t have the time or make the the time for my practice anymore. I don’t have a Guru, teacher I would follow into fire, or even a place that I practice at regularly. My practice has been reduced to when it’s convenient and that needs to change immediately.

IMG_9191Conversely, as a result of being a multi-faceted fitness person, I don’t just do yoga. I also cycle, run, lift weights, wear heels to work all day, and when I can I roll out (which is never but I did do it once this week!). Because I have so many fitness passions, I don’t practice yoga as much as I did before I became an instructor, but I am very active in so many other arenas nonetheless. Unfortunately, my endeavors on a treadmill, on a bike, and lifting weights makes me classically tighter than many other yoga instructors. Not to mention, many yoga instructors are former dancers, and well, if you have ever seen me attempt to catch a beat you sure as hell know I was never a dancer. My yoga instructor friends, teachers in classes, and even Mackenzie in yesterday’s workshop remark[ed] about my tightness and lack of mobility in my scapula and thoracic region. And while this truth is obvious, I know it and it continues to hurt my ego.

Why can’t I be more flexible in my spine? Why can’t my knee stop locking, popping, or constantly hurting? Why can’t I stick a handstand? So many ‘Why’s’ flooded my thoughts that I concluded that my yoga was ugly.

I mean, it had to be, right?

I can’t backbend.

My stomach has rolls.

I’m short. Very short.

My thighs rub together.

I can’t wear white anything on my bottom half.

And I only have 1,228 Instagram followers.

Immersed in a bustling yoga scene of instayogi’s from all over the world AKA Los Angeles and a room full of teachers, I felt unprepared and alone. I felt confused about my place in all this and where I fit into this community. Finally, I concluded that my yoga is ugly.

Egos and handstands.

Midriffs and girls who practice with their hair down and make up (Hell I wish, I just sweat SO much).

Beautiful people, each more attractive and hip than the next.

Posses of the cool kids.

As an outsider, I think much of what I experienced yesterday really hit me because it was like I was that girl on the bus going to school again. The fat kid with no friends, mercilessly made fun of by the cool kids because I was fat and uncool. So much of what we feel when we feel it is a result of our past and my past is filled with pain. For me, I was transported to that time when I was the kid who didn’t get included, never got the invite to the cool kids’ parties, and simply dealt with her emotions by eating them. So last night, I ate my feelings and sadness away in a gluten free pizza. So what I am saying is YEARS later, I guess I still haven’t learned how to cope with my feelings of inadequacy.

I need to believe I am worthy of yoga and resolve to love my body. How does one even do that? How does one receive the love and confidence one so desperately needs and wants that validates one as worthy?

Though yesterday was filled with sweat, tears, and doubt, I do not regret attending for one second. I learned a lot about myself; had my ego majorly checked in class by being out-practiced by pretty much everyone, and I put myself out there.

So for now, I guess my yoga is ugly. I am just going to have to accept that at this moment this is where I am and am going to work on meeting myself with kindness.

Right now it’s like this.

Ain’t no ‘Do Nothin’ B**ch’

A few days ago, I received a text from a friend. Her boyfriend sent her a video of Ronda Rousey talking about how she isn’t some “Do Nothing Bitch” and that the video reminded him of me. I watched the video in awe and insanely flattered. Rousey hit the nail on the head—she certainly ain’t no Do Nothing Bitch, but neither am I.

Watch the video Ronda Rousey Do Nothing Bitch video, or click below.

Right now, there seems to be something amazing happening in the mainstream media world. Women like Ronda Rousey and Coach Jen Welter (Cardinals assistant coach) are paving the way for physically and emotionally strong women to be celebrated for their efforts and athletic pursuits. Now, while women are still a long way from being treated like our male counterparts in the professional arena, we are making progress and that is better than stagnating.

Jen Welter, Cardinals Asst. Coach

For me, seeing a powerhouse like Rousey openly discuss what people think of her ‘manly’ physique and not give two shits is exactly what I am talking about. Now, on a personal level I do not watch nor really condone the sport of Mixed Martial Arts (MMA) aka kick the shit out of someone and beat them to a bloody pulp—but that is just me and I can still see and respect the athleticism of it all. Rousey embodies the strength and determination I love to see in a person, especially in a woman.

As a woman, we are so often put down or held back merely as a result of our gender and that is just bogus in 2015. People are still astounded when woman achieve greatness in the workplace, on the field, or in the gym. You guys, women are doctors, lawyers, teachers, and SO MUCH MORE; it’s terribly archaic to assume because I have breasts that I am less than a man. Frankly, I think it’s all a load of bullshit and I work tirelessly everyday to change this out-dated stereotype by proving I can be just like the boys in and out of the gym.

Growing up I was a thick kid. I have mentioned before that my mother had to take me shopping in the ‘Husky’ section or even the Ladies section because I was overweight. I could sugar coat this and be kinder in discussing my thick thighs and glutes but there is no sense in that, I was a fat kid, period. As if shopping in the fat-kid and old lady sections weren’t demeaning enough, I was into sports and in the 80’s and early 90’s. At this time, girls weren’t playing with the boys and I was ridiculed mercilessly. There were no girls on football teams and equity in school athletics for girls was just emerging—ugh, can you believe that?!

I was taunted for playing with the boys.

I was brutally tormented by the kids on the bus, in the yard at lunch, or while at summer camp because not only did I play with the boys—but I was better than the boys too. I always felt like because I was a girl, I had something to prove. The kids called me horrible names like Lesbo, Dyke, and Tomboy. And while I really didn’t even know or understand why liking to play sports meant I was a lesbian, I just didn’t understand the insult [and still don’t]. How was being athletic something bad? Thankfully, my father was way ahead of the game. He modeled and raised me to truly own my awesome and be my own person because while I am deeply sensitive, I possess a thick skin for haters. I mean let’s be real here:

If you’re hated, you are doing something right, right?

As powerful and athletic women like the US Soccer Team, Rousey, and Welter pave the way for girls to not just play with the boys but to be respected like the boys, I can’t help but wonder could I be like them? Could I be that person for a little girl who looks to me for inspiration, the courage to look the haters in the face and say, “Like it, love it, or leave because I’m not going anywhere”. I guess on a level I try to be that person through my high school teaching and work as a yoga instructor. My goal is to always deliver a face-meltingly hard workout while empowering others to build themselves up and find their place in fitness.

So girls, this one is for you. Do not ever let someone hold you back from something you love. Never listen to the naysayers, because I can’t and I won’t have no place in your vocabulary. Embrace your ferocity and own it for there is only one version of you and it’s beautiful.


wildthingFor the month of July I have been participating in an Instagram backbend yoga challenge. In the 3 years that I have been teaching yoga, never once have I participated in one of these yoga challenges. Actually, I think there was a time maybe wayyyyyyy back that I attempted one and after 2 days I lost the steam. Maybe it wasn’t the right challenge for me. But really I chalk it up to a few things as to why up until very recently I rarely posted pictures of me in yoga poses or committed to an online yoga challenge. Yoga and fitness is a very ‘look at me’ kind of industry. I try not to play into the yoga instructor stereotypes of being scantily clad in inaccessible yoga poses for the masses to gawk at. Frankly, I think it sends a bad message to the masses. I think what the yoga and fitness industry has done to sell its self is disgusting. These industries prostitute themselves in an effort to sell a product whether it be protein powder, a studio, a clothing line—whatever, by using sex to lure in buyers by making yoga now a sexy thing. Basically, they are SENDING THE WRONG MESSAGE.

11755233_10100762894859621_5240393937280972723_nYoga is about love and equity. Yoga is about hitting your mat and delving closer and closer to your essential-self. Yoga is about non-attachment and never competing with anyone, and that also includes yourself. And finally, yoga loves and welcomes everyone regardless of size, sex, race, sexual orientation, or class. Yoga is blind; it embraces us and loves us, even when we can’t love ourselves. So why are these yoga challenges and half-naked yogis so dangerous?

They don’t tell us or even guide us to look inward. They are 1-dimensional, showing us how yoga should look: white, skinny, and if you don’t have a handstand, well then you aren’t a yogi. At least, that’s what I take away from all of this. As a yoga instructor, I know a few things about the human body and one of them is that there are some people genetically blessed with hyper-mobility. Yogi’s in splits, backbending, arms back behind their heads, clasping their foot. Yeah, that will NEVER be me. Aside from a host of injuries, my body doesn’t move that way. Hell, I am a yoga instructor and my body doesn’t move a lot of ways. And you know what? There is nothing wrong with that because this body can move in a lot of other ways as it runs, jumps, squats, punches, and is SO strong that I wouldn’t trade it in for a backbend. In that same accord, the science and statistics note that hyper-mobile yogis ARE wired differently muscularly AND they are prone to injury more than their less-mobile counterparts. YES, the super bendy get hurt more often as a result of pushing too hard and too far, and often may skip warming up because their bodies make challenging asana (poses) easier, or more accessible.


That said, I don’t hate these people per say. The genetically blessed, the actors and models turned fitness instructors, the dancers, and me: The short, muscular, ethnically ambiguous unyoga yogi with purple hair and a fiery spirit. Together we all comprise this industry and there is room for everyone to shine in their own right. So I caved and I decided that it was time to participate in a yoga challenge but do so on my own terms. I was going to use this challenge as a way to unveil how yoga looks when real people do it and what happens when real people can’t do crazy shit on their hands or twist into a pretzel. I wanted to start carving out a niche for all the people with real bodies to be welcomed, embraced, and thrive. I wanted to show the world that yoga IS blind. I combated my demons and I choose to shoot my yoga challenge without a shirt on, in my sports bra. If the tall and lean can do it—why can’t I? Why shouldn’t I? Should I care that my belly is a little soft? Should I worry what others will think if I can’t do a pose because I’m a yoga instructor? I decided to say screw it all and strip myself down to tear down borders and barriers to pave the way for others:

Be yourself, love yourself, and stop giving a shit what others think about you.

11659456_10100755511974981_6370464093040561674_nTaking off my shirt has taught me so much more than I anticipated. First, it certainly has helped me hate myself less because I have started to embrace my body. Who would have thought that taking off my clothes for thousands of people to see would do that?!—but it did. Taking off my shirt is liberating and a way for me to make a statement that real bodies are not going to fade into the backdrop of celebrity fitness personalities because someone else says so. Yoga is about reclaiming your emotions and life while serving others. This yoga challenge, with my belly exposed is my first stab at The Body Movement: real bodies, real fitness, real people, real stories.

I refuse to hide my body from the world. I have worked too damn hard, had too many injuries, too many knee surgeries, and sweat through countless classes and trainings to let someone else tell me how to define my yoga practice and dictate whether my body is undesirable. This yoga challenging is where I take back the power. This yoga challenge is where I show the world that strong IS sexy and yoga is for everybody. Join me. Start baring it all—take your shirt off and join me #TheBodyMovement #DaretoBareitAll #TakeoffYOURshirt. Are you in, or are you in?

Find me on Instragram at arielle_miller, it’s time to start #TheBodyMovement self-love revolution and celebrate all bodies!

hand to foot

Love, Loss, and Lessons

In my 33 years of life, I have been blessed. Aside from so many incredible things in my life from a wonderful family, a new husband, a rad cat, to amazing fitness gigs—up until this point I have not experienced significant loss. I still have 3 of my 4 grandparents alive. My grandfather passed away about 7 years ago but we weren’t close. Just so you have an idea of what “weren’t close” means: I don’t think he could even tell you where I went to college or what I majored in.

My Great Uncle Craig died 2 days before my cousin Michael’s wedding 3 years ago and that was a huge hit to our family. We were close when I was a kid but as time progressed so did distance and I also moved to LA. When Uncle Craig was sick and in hospice, in my visits home to New York I was always “too busy” to drive to New Jersey to visit him. His death was a huge turning point in how I maintain relationships with loved ones and it taught me a painfully valuable lesson. Uncle Craig was the prankster, the jovial spirit of our gatherings. When he died, I think a part of my father and uncles were buried that day too.

But again, I am blessed. Blessed have known these souls and be well into my adulthood with my parents reasonably healthy and my Bubbi (my Jewish grandmother—father’s mother) still alive. My Bubbi is very special to me. I am her first-born grandchild and I am named for her mother. Everyone swears I am my great grandmother’s reincarnate and from what I heard about the woman, that is damn fine with me. She was a firecracker, smart, quick-witted, and couldn’t give two shits what others and the world thought of her. So needless to say, Bubbi and I communicate on a different level—always have. Alas, Bubbi, my parents, and my in-laws are getting older. There’s a pit in my stomach when I hear about this test and that test, this growth, mass, pain, minor procedure, etc. The thought of losing these people overwhelms and reduces me to tears. What on earth will become of me without my mother? Or what’s more, what would become of a mother losing a child?

Yesterday, Greg accompanied me to attend the wake of one of my former students.

Oscar was 23-years-old when we was brutally murdered near his home. Taken from us entirely too soon, Oscar’s legacy is left in the form of a beautiful little girl who will grow up without her beloved father. While meeting Oscar’s mother and aunt, we hugged and they cried on my shoulder. They thanked me for coming and paying my respects to Oscar. As they clung to my body, drawing it closer, I was trembling. How do I look a mother in the face and say, “I’m sorry”? What does that even mean? It just seemed so trite and it was hard to say. The words were like sand paper in my throat and on my lips.

I could never in the wildest depths of my heart and soul imagine what losing a child could and would ever feel like. No, I am not a mother and I was ‘just’ his teacher. But you need to know this about teaching: It is a profession of love. Deep, deep love for the content you impart to kids, but love for the kids in your classroom. So no, I am not a mother. However, as someone who grows and nurtures children at pivotal times in their lives; my heart was heavy and I sobbed while holding my husband’s hand. The overwhelming sense of loss was so stifling and I struggled to catch my breath.

Why Oscar?

Or why any young person for that matter?

When tragedy strikes my students, sometimes I am so overwrought with guilt I ask God, “Why not me? Why did you have to do this to a child?” I often ask God in these darkest corners of my heart to take their pain away—give it to me—I am equipped to handle life’s shit—leave the kids alone. My heart blazes in fury for the suffering Oscar’s family has and will continue to endure without him. The educator in me knows how damaging it is for a young person from a low-income community to grow up without a father. The softness of being a woman and knowing intense love, the love I have for my husband aches so severely it is unfathomable.

With darkness, there is always light.

Though terrible circumstances, I was able to see some of my former students from 2005-2006—my very first group of kids from my first year in Los Angeles. It was so wonderful to see how many of them still maintained friendships. They have grown into incredibly beautiful and articulate adults. So no, I am not a mother, but I could not have been more proud of these young people. And while I still find myself calling them kids or young people, I forget that somewhere along the way they grew up. In particular, Freida quietly said to me,

“When you left teaching to pursue your dreams in fitness, we were proud of you for chasing your dreams. But when you came back, we were happy because you belong in a classroom. We all love you and will never forget you.”

Oscar, I will always recall my first year in Los Angeles as special and you were part of that. Thank you for being part of my growth as a teacher and as a woman. Your mischievous grin and ability to make everyone laugh around you will resound in our hearts. I will never forget the gifts you didn’t even know you left me when you passed:

Both love and loss most certainly can reside together in a beautiful paradox.

Rest In Peace Oscar.

Go and Be Impressive

Settling back into real life and a routine since the wedding has been challenging. My eating and nutrition have been unrestrained and getting in regular workouts with errands and such just hasn’t happened. I’ve been feeling sluggish and out of shape. It’s amazing at how fast that happens, right? While working out today I felt tired but kept pushing. Despite the fact that today’s effort wasn’t my best display of athleticism, it certainly was the best I had in me in those very moments and that’s what really matters—being the best version of ourselves in the present moment.

My runs felt heavy but I kept pushing. I kept thinking to myself that I did this to myself and I can undo this to myself because I am strong and have the power to do it. Running, rowing, running, rowing. My arms no longer felt attached to my body. I battled to pump my arms while on the treadmill and sometimes I even had to straighten them out and whip them around myself because they were so fatigued from the rower. But I kept going. I was tired; no, I was exhausted but I kept going. And then I looked to my right. The guy next to me was losing steam. Normally, when I am working out for me, I turn off the Fitness Instructor so I can be present for me. But I don’t know, today it felt right and something in his face made me to turn to him and offer him simple words, “C’mon, you’ve got this.” I know all too well that a little encouragement can go a long way when you are down and out, so I figured; why not?

The man didn’t seem to hear me because he didn’t respond. I contemplated saying it again or something else but I didn’t. I redirected my energies to my legs that were seemingly still attached to my body and propelling themselves forward on the treadmill. Finally, the workout ended. The same man I ran next to came up to me after class and said “Thank you, I really needed that.” We chatted briefly and he told me he thought I was ‘so impressive’ and that he couldn’t keep up with my speed. He shared that he was inspired by my hard work and that my kind words in class helped him finish the workout.

Impressive, eh? Someone thought I was impressive?! And here it turns out that in order to be considered impressive all I had to do was be me and show a little compassion.

Go be you today. Go be friggen impressive and look over to a stranger tonight in class [yes, even in yoga] or anywhere, and tell them something nice and encouraging.