Yoga From Hell. Literally.
A few years ago a bear wandered into Ballard. The question of the week was how did a bear get that far into the city without anyone noticing? Some quick thinking Seattlite responded “he was wearing flannel and carrying a latte.” If you haven’t heard the stereotypes of those from Seattle let me clue you in. We seem to be flannel wearing, Grunge band playing, organic eating, rain drop dodging, coffee guzzling, environmentalist liberals. Oh, and did I mention the yoga? It is everywhere. Yoga studios are about as plentiful as coffee shops here. I have now joined that yoga crowd.
It was time to stop with the WiiFit yoga and get serious. That’s when someone told me that this was the best way to start is with Bikram or hot yoga. They lied. As I walked into the studio I was prepared for the heat, but what hit me was an inferno. The second I walked into the door I started sweating. It wasn’t just hot. It was I-liked-a-cactus-in-the-middle-of-the-Sahara-Desert-because-I-was-hallucinating-from-the-heat-and-thought-it-was-a-bottle-of-water hot. As we went through the positions I couldn’t see due to the sweat dripping in my eyes. The teacher so nicely informed me that not to wipe it away because it would only make it worse. Great.
Half an hour into the class we stopped for our first water break. I guzzled the water since my tongue was about the same texture as sandpaper. Bad move number two. Apparently drinking lots of water+yoga+heat= you just screwed yourself. Foolish me didn’t realize that I was in for some cramping for the next 10 minutes.
Bad move number 3 was just being there. At one point the teacher came over and asked me to sit down. As I was wondering if this was some sort of punishment (than again the heat was punishment enough) I realized why I needed to sit. The room started spinning. My stomach was spinning and in my mind I was cursing myself out. Why the hell do I need to torture myself like this?
Last week I gathered my nerve and went to yoga for the second time at Planet Earth Yoga. And did I luck out. Not only was the first class free, but I was the only person who showed up. The instructor did some breathing techniques with me and took the class at a slow, beginners pace. Better yet we bonded a bit over our distaste of Bikram yoga. Score. Now my legs are score, but I can’t wait to go back.
Have you ever fell in love with something after hating it first?