It’s funny to think of how I came to meet my yoga buddy Aislinn, considering the nature of yoga and the peaceful, introspective lifestyle it encourages. Her husband and my boyfriend both play on the same rugby team, the Pasadena Rugby Club, which basically means our friendship developed over numerous weekends spent watching our respective men inflict and alternately receive various forms of physical violence.

But really, it makes perfect sense because the feeling after a good, sweat-inducing yoga session is probably very similar to the one experienced by Keegan and Matt after they walk off the field at the end of a match. Only they’re covered in bruises, blood and bits of grass, whereas we are usually covered in various pieces of Lululemon attire.

Aislinn and I had been attending yoga classes together a few times a month pretty regularly when she invited me to attend a weekend retreat in Ojai. It was close enough to drive, short enough to be affordable and we would spend two nights in an austere “tea house” to keep the accommodations low budget. And honestly, the tea house situation was what intrigued me the most.

I’ve been telling Keegan that I want to try camping, but we’re both a little concerned whether or not I’ll be able to handle a full-on wilderness experience since I’ve never actually done it before. My father, an Army man, never took us camping because he didn’t feel like playing soldier during his off-duty free time. So this trip could act as a way to ease me into camping—a “camping lite” of sorts. Slipping in the “camping pill” into my chocolate pudding, so I could take it in without even knowing what I was doing.

I was instructed to bring warm clothes and a sleeping bag, which I borrowed from the most earthy friend in my cell phone. Armed with a beanie, wool socks and Long Johns, I was bundled up and ready when night fell and it was time for bed on the first night of my stay. Well, I was ready after enjoying two heaping helpings of a delicious, catered vegan dinner and tucking myself into a sleeping bag resting atop a raised mattress. This was definitely my kind of roughing it.

A full day of eating, practicing yoga, planning in all earnestness to go on a group hike with a handful of ambitious yogis-in-training but deciding to instead to eat some more, pretty much perfectly described the following day. The yoga was challenging and fun and after I made a huge leap forward in my progress toward being able to perform a handstand (i.e. my elbows didn’t immediately collapse at the first feeling of pressure on my T-Rex-like arms), the trip felt worth it for that moment alone.

Fireside small talk over dinner turned into hot tub giggly girl talk over glasses of wine and ended with a steamy, comforting shower. By this point, I was convinced to consider extending this “camping lite” business indefinitely.

That night, Aislinn and I crept into our sleeping bags like exhausted children after a long day playing in the woods. We probably smelled a little bit that way as well. Curled up under our covers, we hid from the cold and quickly fell into a warm, drowsy sleep.

When a loud crash woke me from my insulated sleep complete with a winter beanie and earplugs, I sat straight up, half-expecting the roof of the tea house to be resting on Aislinn’s mattress. In the pitch-black dark, I found Aislinn’s eyes, looking directly at me as I’m sure she sighed with relief that I wasn’t resting under a piece of tin tea roof either.

“We’re going inside the house,” Aislinn announced over the wailing of the wind. Gathering up my covers while jamming my feet into my tennis shoes, I wordlessly agreed and followed my fearless leader into the warm uterus comprised of solid walls and radiators.

We awoke to morning noises of coffee brewing, toilet flushing, the shuffling of feet in socks on wooden floors…and ACHOO! My eyes started to water and I noticed just how congested my sinuses had become overnight. This could only mean one thing—a cat was nearby.

Quickly, I packed up my bedding, tied my shoelaces and made my way to the porch for breakfast, all the while hoping the clear air would be enough to keep the sneezing at bay. The backyard remained my refuge until it was time to leave. Because of my allergies, I had to sit out for the indoor meditation session and instead cracked open my borrowed copy of Twilight.

Everyone agreed the wind the night before had been strong and our decision to come into the house was a wise one, assuring me that we hadn’t been major weenies. And at the end of the trip, I felt sure I would be able to handle less luxurious accommodations on a “real” camping excursion as long as it became incrementally more difficult. There was no sense in taking on a survivalist attitude immediately.

Battling the wilderness was starting to sound like a piece of cake—a piece of moist, vegan chocolate cake baked lovingly by a local gourmet catering company. As long as there weren’t any ferocious house cats in the area, that is.