A couple of weeks ago Pete and I went scavenging yard/garage sales so that he could find various electronic equipment he thought might be useful in his current pursuits and I was on the lookout for old cameras. Instead I managed to find an exercise bike for FIVE dollars that we immediately purchased and I’ve been slowly incorporating into my “getting fit” regimen. The bike was found at an apartment-wide sale and a man at the first apartment gave me two cards good for free sessions at his hot yoga studio up the road. I laughed and said I would probably die if I tried it, but took the cards. He said, “You won’t die. It is good to challenge yourself and try new things.”
Ain’t that the truth?
I felt as if I had been dared in the schoolyard. I was intrigued. I asked my friend Siobhan if she’d be interested in trying it when I got back from San Francisco and she was. I explored the website and immediately developed a mini-crush on the man’s wife/business partner who teaches most of the classes as I read all about her. She is in the process of doing a dissertation on using yoga as an early intervention method with children on the autistic spectrum, and this is like her 3rd or 4th degree. Some people are show-offs, eh? ☺
So this past Saturday was the day. They offer a limited summer schedule and classes available during the week are either at 6:30am or at 6pm, thereabouts…either too early or too late for me (classes are at least an hour…most are an hour and a half…so it is a commitment). Saturday started at what I considered a reasonable time: 10:00 am.
I woke up very nervous. I don’t eat breakfast and the website said to not eat anything for 2 hours before the class…so I wasn’t going to eat anything at all. I did have a small cup of coffee and drank one glass of water. I should have drunk more. Siobhan showed up and was just as nervous. Pete wasn’t sure if we’d make it back alive.
At the studio we said hello to the owner and mentioned we knew nothing about yoga, really, and were extremely frightened. She assured us we could go at our own pace and not to worry. We went right to the back of the small space as neither of us wanted anyone to see how much we weren’t able to do. It quickly filled up with about a dozen students (only one of whom was male as an interesting but not very surprising side note). The instructor started talking us through the poses and we tried hard to keep up. Her voice sounded like Sarah Silverman—the more I thought that, the more she sounded like her, and the more surreal the experience became. She looked a little like her too, but prettier and softer and with tattoos (well, visible ones. I have no idea if SS has tattoos). We began to sweat and once it started there was no stopping it.
At first it didn’t actually feel that hot in the studio, especially when we were coming from our typical Philadelphia area summer of hot and humid. As soon as we were struggling to figure out what “downward facing dog” was and imitate the other people in the class, the sweat began to pour. And pour. And knowing it was going to happen and just accepting that it was supposed to happen…it didn’t bother me at all. This was fascinating to me as I am a big whiney bitch in the heat, typically. Working my muscles and sweating is different, though. It feels good.
My inner monologue during the class never stopped. I didn’t reach any sort of enlightened state and in fact, I had to bite my tongue continually to stop my snarky comments from being said aloud (and I still let some slip whispered to Siobhan, who unfortunately couldn’t hear me). But I was appreciative of being there and my thoughts became more and more focused on how my body was feeling as the class went on. The hour and a half, for me, went extremely fast. There was a point somewhere in there when I was not sure if I could make it. Siobhan looked absolutely miserable (and she was miserable) and she was throwing daggers at me with her eyes every time I looked over to check on her. I had no watch or any way to check what time it was and I felt myself slipping into that negative, panicky voice. You know the one:
“Holy shit, this is hard!”
“How long have we been doing this?”
“My head is pounding. I think I am going to drop dead.”
“Siobhan looks like she is going to drop dead.”
“Should we leave? I think we should leave.”
“We are totally going to die.”
…and so on.
But I stopped it. I told myself to calm down and just go to child’s pose to rest if I needed to, like the instructor said. I did. I knew I could see it through and I knew if Siobhan needed to leave it was up to her to leave and I didn’t need to be responsible for that because she is an adult and I’m not the Queen of the Universe even though I totally act that way much of the time.
And not long after, the class was over.
Siobhan went straight for her car and said she’d be waiting for me there. I lingered so I could talk to the teacher a bit who told me I did very well for my first time. I said I did some Pilates, which seemed to help with some of the poses and she nodded. I asked her about eating, since there was a brief time in the class when I felt extremely nauseous from being so hungry (I know, but that is what my body does). She suggested a banana.
The rest of the day was fascinating for me to discover how it affected my body. I didn’t want to eat anything heavy or fattening at all. Pete and I went out to dinner and I wanted only really small portions and got one crab cake and a mozzarella/tomato/basil/pesto/balsamic appetizer that was heavenly. I did feel a bit queasy off and on throughout the day. I did pass out on my bed for about 40 minutes an hour or so after I got back. But Pete and I walked to the restaurant and back for dinner, which was a 20-25 minute walk each way. I felt both like I had been hit by a truck and that I had been nourished. I felt both weak and strong. I felt crumpled and alive.
I felt that I would go back and do it again this Saturday.
