Adam Blog

Let me start by saying I’ve never been much of a yoga person. I once tried a hot yoga class and thought I was going to evaporate. But last weekend, something changed. I found myself standing in a sun-drenched field, surrounded by a dozen strangers... and a dozen goats. Yes, goats. Tiny, bleating, possibly judgmental goats.

Welcome to goat yoga—where your downward dog is occasionally interrupted by a curious baby goat attempting to nibble your ponytail.

What Even Is Goat Yoga?
Goat yoga is exactly what it sounds like: a yoga class, usually held outdoors, with live goats milling around. Sometimes they hop on your back. Sometimes they nap on your mat. And sometimes, just sometimes, they poop next to your water bottle. It’s all part of the charm.

This hybrid trend started a few years ago and has since become the darling of social media. I’d seen the pictures. I’d rolled my eyes. And yet... I signed up. For science. And self-growth. Obviously.

My Goat Yoga Journey
I arrived wearing my finest athleisure gear and a deeply skeptical expression. Our instructor, a woman named River (yes, really), greeted us barefoot, holding a goat named Pancake. Pancake looked wise beyond her years.

As we began the class, something wild happened: I started having fun. Legitimate, stress-melting, serotonin-boosting fun. Every time a goat clambered onto someone’s back, the entire group dissolved into laughter. River reminded us to “breathe into the moment” while gently shooing a goat away from the snacks table.

By the end of the session, I hadn’t just stretched—I’d laughed harder than I had in weeks. And I had a new lock screen photo of me in Warrior II with a goat photobombing in the background.

What I Learned from the Goats
Balance is overrated — especially when a goat is standing on your glutes.
Let go of perfection — goat yoga isn't about nailing poses. It's about being present (and goat hair is a natural exfoliant, probably).
Joy can be weird — and that’s okay.

Final Thoughts
Is goat yoga going to replace my coffee-fueled mornings? No. Will I do it again? Absolutely. Goat yoga didn’t transform my flexibility or center my chakras, but it reminded me that sometimes, the best kind of self-care involves unexpected joy—and a few hooves on your mat.

Namaste... and bahhhh-maste.

Want to join me for a llama pilates class next? Stay tuned.