a hot (sweaty) mess

You might've seen some of my tweets in the past week about trying Bikram Yoga for the first time. For a while I've been looking for something to spice up my fitness routine, since for the past six months or more it's pretty much been running. Every day. On a treadmill, while watching 'Say Yes to the Dress' on TLC.

If you're not familiar with Bikram Yoga, it basically refers to 26 specific poses that were put together by this dude whose name is (wait for it!) Bikram. It's always the same, and always in the same order, and always last 90 minutes. The catch is, you're doing all of it in a 105 degree room.

Being from Memphis, I thought I knew what 105 degrees felt like. But y'all, I did not. I walked in that room the first night and laid down on my mat before class began and all I could think was, OH FUCK. I had already been pretty nervous about it before I even got to the studio, and then the instructor gave me a quick orientation in which she literally said that my goal for my first class should simply be to stay in the room the whole time. Again. OH, FUCK.

And I blame her uttering those words to me in the first place for the fact that about two-thirds of the way through the class I tried to make a break for it. And was subsequently totally that person who opened the door during class, IDIOT. I mean, doesn't someone saying that my goal is just to stay in the room the whole time imply that one can elect NOT to stay in the room the whole time? Doesn't it? I thought so. And at the one point during the class when I knew death was imminent, and I could see black spots in front of my eyes, I felt that giving up on my first-class-goal was a very wise decision.

So I made a move toward the door, and no sooner was my hand on the door knob and one foot out the door than the instructor came trotting toward me (who MOVES that quickly when it's ONE HUNDRED AND FIVE!?) and told me not to leave the room. Just to lie down on my mat. And so I did, and yes, eventually I did feel better. And eventually I fell completely head over heels for Bikram, but I'll get to that in a minute. First I just need to note two things: 1.) the extreme, unmeasurable level of sheer mortification I felt at being that person, after already having massive amounts of attention called to me simply for being a newbie in the first place and 2.) my curiosity at what exactly one would have to be experiencing in order to be allowed to leave the room. Because what if I were dying? Of course, I'm probably a bad example since I tend to think I'm dying after, say, slamming my finger in a car door.

After I rested for a minute, my head cleared, I had some water and rejoined the class. And despite my little run for the border, I left the studio that night feeling something I lack words to describe. I haven't felt that way after a workout, maybe ever, and that's saying something. I've shed some serious sweat at the gym many, many times in my life. But never have I felt so good, so energized, so rejuvenated. It was incredible.

I was doing the studio's one-week new student trial, which gave me unlimited classes for seven days for $20. So I went a few more times, watching myself improve even from one session to the next. And now I'm hooked. The problem? They are real damn proud of this shit, because it costs almost five times as much as my gym membership.

Initially I'd planned to just do it for a week, to kickstart my fitness routine a little bit, change things up for my muscles, and then go back to just running. But what I realized after my last class was that $17 - the cost of one drop-in class - is an amount of money I have each week. I may not have enough for the monthly membership, but I can go to one class a week. I spend more than $17 on an average night at the bar. And when I put it to myself that way, it makes it hard to keep telling myself I don't have the money. If I have money for beer, I think I can reallocate some of those funds for something just a little bit better for me.

So Bikram is going to be part of my Sunday routine from this point forward. And maybe one day I'll be abe able to afford to do it daily. Or at least to crank my heat up to 105 and do it in my own living room.

Kidding.


cheers,
elizabeth