The plea was silent, a desperate internal request: “Please don’t rip.” It escaped me as I stretched one leg skyward in Downward Dog, the icy ground a stark contrast to the warmth I craved. A bark broke my concentration, and a labradoodle bounded into view, weaving between students and their mats, eliciting laughter from our snowga class. It was my first experience with outdoor yoga in winter, and I quickly realized a key takeaway would be learning to embrace the unexpected.
My journey with yoga is a recent one. A few yin yoga classes in college, almost a decade ago, left me pleasantly sleepy under a wool blanket in Savasana – a state I was too embarrassed to repeat. That was, until this January. Drawn in by the inviting glow of a studio window on a frigid evening, I signed up for a hot yoga class. Power yoga followed, then a return to yin, this time without the nap. I found myself hooked on the practice of reconnecting with my body and silencing the noise of the world, one mindful moment at a time.
So, when I saw an advertisement for a free snowga class offered by Pop Spirit, just a few blocks from my home in Montreal, I signed up despite never having considered practicing yoga outdoors in winter. The appeal of something new, something different, was too strong to resist.
Snowga, it turns out, is more than just a novelty; it’s a shift in perspective. It’s about finding peace amidst the chaos, and accepting the imperfections that approach with practicing in an unpredictable environment. It’s a lesson in letting proceed, both on and off the mat.
A few days later, bundled in layers, I walked to the park on a 14°F Saturday morning, stopping for a coffee and fried chocolate ravioli – a necessary fuel-up for my first snowga experience. Within minutes, around 20 people, equally prepared for the cold, had gathered, chatting and admiring each other’s gear. One person had even brought a large waterproof picnic blanket to layer under their mat, and several sported oversized Stanley thermoses. The sense of community, familiar from my studio classes, was immediately present.
Our instructor, Emie, a yoga teacher originally from Paris now based in Montreal, began the class with a simple directive: “Don’t worry if you can’t replicate things exactly like indoors. We’re outside, it’s different.” I, however, initially wanted to replicate everything I knew. I wanted to refine my posture and technique.
That ambition quickly faded. The uneven, snowy ground made it impossible to get my mat flat, challenging my balance in ways I hadn’t experienced on the smooth studio floors. My body felt constricted by the layers of clothing – a thick sweater, ski pants, and a bulky jacket over my usual yoga attire. I’d forgotten my sunglasses, and the sun occasionally blinded me while the tip of my nose went numb. And, to top it off, my glove had a hole, letting in the cold.
“Listen to your body and enjoy yourself,” Emie advised. For a fleeting moment, I daydreamed about the warm glow of a Himalayan salt lamp, a freshly brewed cup of Rooibos Earl Grey tea, and the comfortable temperature of my indoor studio. But then I closed my eyes, repeating Emie’s words like a mantra. I realized she was right. A little snow in my glove and a slightly lumpy mat didn’t matter. What did matter was the warmth of the sun on my face, the chirping of birds, the crunch of snow underfoot, the laughter of children sledding nearby, and the distant hum of the city.
The absence of mirrors, unlike most indoor studios, also proved liberating. Without the constant self-assessment, it became easier to let go of striving for perfect posture and simply enjoy the moment. I felt connected to my surroundings – my park, my neighborhood, my city, and myself.
Snowga isn’t limited to Montreal. The practice is gaining momentum globally. On Instagram, the hashtag #snowyoga reveals a growing community of practitioners embracing slow movement in the cold. Studios across North America, including the Wayzata Public School system in Minnesota and Bohemian Bliss Yoga Studio in Ontario, now offer winter snow yoga classes. Similar experiences are emerging at retreats, resorts, and outdoor clubs in countries like Norway, Iceland, and Sweden, demonstrating the widespread appeal of this unique practice. Influencers like @kristina.flows and @yoga_with_camilla regularly share their outdoor winter yoga routines.
Beyond the enjoyment factor, spending an hour practicing yoga outdoors in winter offers surprising physical benefits. Sunlight exposure helps the body produce vitamin D, which is often lacking during the darker months, and can even alleviate symptoms of Seasonal Affective Disorder. According to sports medicine physician Adam Tenforde, MD, exercising in cold temperatures can also boost endurance. Studies suggest that cold exposure may also assist the body burn stored calories. And, of course, snowga has an inherent playfulness, with the inevitable slipping, sliding, and occasional falling.
For Emie, the core of snowga lies in surrender. “Rather than struggling against what we cannot control, snow yoga teaches us to let go of the city’s movements, the weather, and all the things in life we can’t manage,” she explained. “Unlike an indoor studio, where we can control the temperature, lighting, and such.”
Amidst the outdoor chaos of sounds, temperatures, and textures, I found a sense of peace in embracing the messiness and spontaneity of it all. Everything felt more alive.
Emie believes the essence of snowga is experiencing “a moment where you move your body and move closer to self-acceptance and self-love.” It’s a lesson that extends far beyond the melting snow.
If you find yourself in Montreal, Emie will be teaching Saturday classes through March. But you don’t necessitate a class to experience snowga – just yourself and the outdoors. Layering several thin base layers, a slightly loose waterproof jacket, and sunglasses are recommended. And, of course, check your gloves for holes.
To practice snowga, simply find a snowy spot – a park, balcony, porch, or stoop. Sit in Sukhasana (Easy Pose) with open shoulders, grounding yourself and focusing on the present moment. Take a deep breath of the cold air, fully embracing the experience. Start to move your body intuitively to warm up, and slowly incorporate your favorite poses, noticing how they feel both different and the same.
As snowga continues to gain popularity, it’s likely we’ll see even more innovative ways to connect with our bodies and the natural world. The future of yoga may well be found outdoors, embracing the elements and the lessons they offer.
What are your thoughts on outdoor yoga? Share your experiences and insights in the comments below!
Disclaimer: The information provided in this article is intended for general knowledge and informational purposes only, and does not constitute medical advice. It is essential to consult with a qualified healthcare professional for any health concerns or before making any decisions related to your health or treatment.
