Namaste

I went to Bikram Yoga (i.e. hot yoga) last night.  It had been two years since my last Bikram experience.  My last Bikram experience wasn't very pleasant.  I had quite a bit to drink the night before as I was at a conference with my friends.  Why we thought an 8 a.m. Bikram class would be wise after a night of heavy drinking I will never know, especially in light of the fact that none of us were regular Bikram students.  It was Florida in August so by 8 a.m. it was likely 90 degrees an humid.  The Bikram room was 108, but at least it wasn't humid.

The teacher was a bit of a Nazi --- as a Jew I don't use that word lightly.  My friends and I fought off dizziness, vomiting, etc.  The teacher barked orders at us and scolded us when we had to lay silently on our respective mats to fight the urge to run out of the room and vomit (as that wasn't allowed).  We somehow made it through 90 minutes, thinking that at least we were able to sweat out some of the alcohol from the night before.  I puked at the end of the class.  We drove back to the resort and jumped into the pool in our yoga clothes.

I decided it would be a good idea to revisit Bikram after speaking with my PT.  It would allow me to sweat.  I am strange in that I really like to sweat when I am exercising because it makes me feel as if I am accomplishing something.  It would also allow me to stretch in an environment where my muscles were warm and the stretches could be productive.  I called my friend en route to the class, one of the women who shared the Bikram experience with me two years ago.  We chuckled about it.  A few minutes later she called me back and said that she was going to take a class last night as well --- too bad she was in St. Louis and I was in New Orleans.

My friend Mary agreed to try to the class with me.  We showed up armed with yoga mats, towels, and water.  We had signed up ahead of time on the internet because we were told the classes filled up quickly and had limited space.  The class was so crowded that we had to put the mats right next to one another -- literally.  How they fit 39 people into that tiny room will forever be a mystery to me. It certainly took away from the class, though, which disappointed me.  There wasn't sufficient room to stretch.  You were constantly getting hit by someones hand or foot.  It was somewhat uncomfortable having to lie so close to someone I had never met.  But, despite all of that, I still liked it.  I didn't like it enough to go to a class that is that crowded again, but will try the class again at 8 a.m. on Sunday.

I liked that I sweat.  Specifically, I was dripping wet at the end of the class.  I walked out of the yoga studio and the air felt cool.  How often can you say that about the air in New Orleans in July?  I felt more cleansed after the class.  I slept more soundly last night.  My skin looked a little more clear today.

I read "Mile Markers" by Kristin Armstrong over the weekend.  I loved the book because while it was about running, it was also about life.  Armstrong cross-trains with yoga.  In the book she described the impact that yoga classes have had on her life, her running, and why she believes in them.  The yoga classes have forced her to deal with bring uncomfortable and with doing things that she didn't think that she was capable of. 

Last night I was in the back row of the class.  I certainly wasn't the most flexible person in the room, but I was OK with that.  I didn't go into the class expecting to be the most flexible person.  I pushed myself to where I could and was content with that level.  I didn't do anything to hurt myself or set back my recovery.  I sweat, more than I would have at the gym, and felt like I had accomplished something as a result.  And, in the end, while I was upset with the number of people in the room, I got over it and went home feeling more relaxed and able to deal with life.  The verdict is still out on whether it will help my running or whether after trying Bikram again on Sunday it will be something that I do again, but it felt good to challenge myself.