Regan Tucker discovered yoga at 17, grieving her mother's death, dragged to a class by her mom's friend in Vegas. It was instant. She didn't choose yoga—yoga chose her. Two decades later, she's one of St. Louis's most beloved teachers, running Soulful Sundays at True Fusion Clayton, where she's taught 250+ uniquely themed classes without repeating herself. All handwritten in notebooks she's kept for years.

This is a nearly two-hour conversation that goes everywhere: grief, guardian angels, The Telepathy Tapes, Viktor Frankl, why your calf muscle is technically your second heart, the 11/11 "spiritual portal" that was invented in 1992, and whether yoga mats are even necessary (Roxanne doesn't use one at home—just her and the wood floor).

Regan opens up about losing her mom right before senior year and how yoga became her therapy when she had no words for what she was going through. She talks about the 15-year gap between her first time teaching (uncertified, early 2000s Vegas) and her return to the mat after raising her kids. About stopping teaching because she'd lost herself as a student. About finally signing up for teacher training at True Fusion in January 2020, graduating—and then having the world shut down a week later. The universe, apparently, had other priorities.

We discuss losing teachers who shaped us. Regan trained under Julie Funke and Lindsay Mallers—both have since passed away. She now shows Julie's YouTube videos to the teachers she trains. There's a mural of Julie doing side crow outside the studio. For some people, walking back into that room is still hard. Lindsay's playlists are still on Spotify, and listening to them now reveals this strange overlap of musical taste that Regan never noticed in class because she was actually practicing.

We get into why so many yoga teachers are secretly introverts, what it means to teach from embodiment versus performance, and the difference between pain and discomfort (Roxanne admits she couldn't tell the difference for years). Gary shares that he did 280 yoga classes last year and got yoga shoulder. Roxanne hurt her hip spontaneously running during a walk. Regan? Never been injured. Never been to a chiropractor. We're suspicious.

There's a wild story about Regan almost getting arrested at a Vegas house party after her mom died—going out with her hands up, an officer dialing the wrong number, and a mysterious woman with the same rare name showing up to unknowingly rescue her. Guardian angel or alien? She's not ruling anything out.

We talk about playlist philosophy—how Regan saves her favorite artists (Radiohead, Tori Amos, Jeff Buckley, The Beatles) for herself and instead plays music with the same soul. How her 11-year-old son calls James Hetfield "Papa James." How she once tried to sell handwritten Metallica lyrics at school for 50 cents. No buyers.

There's discussion of cassette tapes (Regan's daughter wants them), mat hygiene (we're all failing), stem cells in Mexico (Gary's interested), and whether Yoga Alliance certifications actually mean anything (the scope of practice is "very muddied").

Viktor Frankl shows up—the pause between stimulus and response, and how yoga can be that pause. Harry Potter's Room of Requirement becomes a metaphor for what the yoga room offers. And meditation, for Gary, is apparently just writing stand-up material in his head while trying to remember the jokes until class ends.

This one's about the long game. About grief as an entry point. About teachers who leave imprints that don't fade. About waiting 15 years and then having the universe say "hold on, not yet." About liking yourself at the end of the day because you spend most of your time in your head, so you might as well make it a good place to live.

Regan teaches Soulful Sundays at True Fusion Clayton, 10am, 75 minutes. Bring water. Prepare for your second heart to get a workout.