Bikram and His Yoga

I’ve never done yoga or Pilates or really ever desired to. I totally believe the lies and misconceptions that if I’m not bouncing around, moving all extremities- limbs pumping, heart racing, muscles aching- then I’m not doing real exercise. I like to sweat. If I’m not sweating then I’m not working hard enough. So, when a friend told me about this great deal on Bikram Yoga classes I figured what the heck. The deal was 30 days for $30, not too bad, and as a way to try out hot yoga, something I may or may not like, it seemed harmless. Then I invited my sister to join in the yoga fun since she would be house-sitting in NYC for three weeks. I figured she could enjoy indoor exercise since running is sort of limited in the winter.

My sister had gone to one class before I did and I joined on Christmas Day. (I know this is not how a good Christian girl should spend Christmas, but we wanted to get out of the house- plus, it was one of the few days I had off work.) So this Bikram Yoga thing- it is possibly one of the hardest things I’ve ever done mentally.

That room is so hot that all distractions are melted out of your mind. Rational thought and quick responses do not come easily. Nothing comes easily. Standing on one foot. Tree Pose. Standing still and looking into my own eyes in the mirror for five seconds without fidgeting or wiping my brow or taking the rubber band out of my hair.

This class is hard, probably more mentally than physically, but that is my bigger problem anyway. The second class I cried. The third class I left- even though this is HIGHLY looked down upon and very disrespectful and taboo. Whatever. I was seeing spots. Most classes I get dizzy, lightheaded; pray for God to take me. And I’ve read that a person my size can burn 600-1,000 calories in this 90 minute class. I believe it. Often I have sweat dripping off my elbows during the first breathing exercise.

It’s weird too. Sweating so profusely in a mirrored room full of strangers- most of whom are wearing about as much material as a bathing suit. Me personally, I wear spandex running-type shorts and a sports bra. That’s it. I’ve never worked out in this little attire. But I sweat so much. It’s gross: all these strangers and all this sweat. The instructor dripped on me during my last class as I lay on my back in Savasna. Other peoples toes are in your face, you are all walking around barefooted, and you’re trying to focus and remain calm. It’s weird. I’ve never been in a yoga studio, besides this one here in NYC, so this may be the norm. Skin, sweat, no modesty or space.

I’ve been to about seven classes since December 25th and with each one I feel so proud of myself for completing the 90 minutes without having mental breakdown. I wish I knew what it was that makes me feel like there is a sack of wet rags sitting on top of my stomach, perhaps it’s the heat, but maybe there is something more. This whole thing is new to me, but that camel pose, oh my gosh. It kills me each time I try. And not physically- but within my whole body I just feel nauseous (now I sound like one of those people…)

It’s hard, but that’s okay. I like it. I will probably not continue my membership once mine expires on Jan. 23rd, since the normal cost is $180 dollars a month, but it’s been a good experience. It makes me feel strong and courageous for battling these constant thoughts that bounce around in my head like a ping-pong ball all day long. It forces me to slow down.