Drip Drip Drip

Let me start this riveting and sometimes hygienically questionable entry with the basic premise that new experiences may not always be good, but one should always be willing to try new things. So with that mantra in mind, I agreed to go with a friend to Bikram yoga. Now for those of you not familiar with the varying and multitude types of yoga, Bikram yoga is very similar to normal yoga in regards to movement and stretches, however instead of being in a comfortable 68 degree environment, rather this is done in a studio that is 105 degrees and 60 percent humidity. Does this seem like a reasonable environment to do strenuous activities? Let me assure you just walking into the room was challenging. So lets walk you through this.

We arrive at this studio which has two changing rooms. They are on either side of the lobby and are nothing more than a section of the lobby separated by a floor to ceiling drapery which reveals behind it just a single bench. The male side houses a industrial size heater designed for nuclear power plans and small cities. Is this my first clue that men might not be the most welcomes of gender here? I rapidly change as we are running late (I wasn’t driving so no hits on men being late). Before being allowed to enter into the studio I am requested to sign a Death and Dismemberment waiver. This waiver is just as long as bungee jumping, but I am feeling optimistic and this does not even give me pause. I grab my yoga mat and together we enter the studio. Having frequented saunas or steam rooms before I was at least prepared to expect the impact of the heat wave. The room was no more than 15 feet wide and a good 60 feet long, with evenly alternating yoga mats placed like table settings as a dining room table. Along the entire room women (ironically no men) were warming up (no pun intended) and preparing for class. I lay my mat and towel upon it and try to prepare myself, nothing was going to fully prepare me for this though.

Little did I know that the desk assistant was actually the instructor for the class. We hear a voice preparing us and as I look over I see a bear. No, not a metaphorical bear, an honest to goodness bear. Was this the heat already going to my head, or maybe the steam from the 3 humidifiers? I squint to see more clearly, which just causes more water to bead up in my eyes. As the bear approaches I see it is not a woodland creature, but our instructor without the benefit of a shirt and with mounds of black curly hair covering both front and rear. He finishes this ensemble with short athletic shorts revealing a majority of his legs covered in compatible hair. He begins to lead us through the class as I desperately try not to look at this sweating coordinator in front of us.

Having not practiced yoga, or the gym in general for that matter, I was expecting a tough workout. By the third move my leg was shaking like a jackrabbit to the point where I was not sure I would be able to stop the shuttering. Fear not left leg ceased its palpitations when the right leg began. Sweat is now begin to bead up throughout my body, but I still believe I am in control of the situation. I try to keep up with my classmate in front of me only to find out after the session she is actually an instructor at different classes, not the person you want to try to set pace with. After 45 minutes, my lungs are screaming for oxygen, my legs are like Jello and my head is preparing to pop right off my neck. But I fear not as I know the end is approaching. The great bear in the front says something I don’t think I quite heard correctly so I whisper to my friend inquiring as to how long classes are. She whispers back, 90 minutes. WHAT????? I do everything I can to contain my fear of trying to last not another 15 minutes, but rather another 45 minutes. She asks if I need to step outside. Keep in mind this would require walking in front of, over, of around over 20 women who are all cheerfully contorting away with the great bear. Now my masculinity is in question (or what’s left of it) so of course the choice is obvious, stick with it! Up to now all exercises were standing exercises which include balance and contortion, the latter half focuses more on stretching, this I can do. When he directs us to the mat, I collapse as a man would collapse into a lazy-boy after a 60 hour straight shift on his feet. Never planning to move or get up, soon we are being directed to throw our feet over our head and remove our spine from our body, and believe me every other classmate was able to accomplish these feats with no sweat (actually with a lot of sweat). But I hang with them, and after 90 minutes when everyone is in their individual silent meditation I am just trying to determine if I am still alive. I am poured into a glass and walked to the main lobby where I am poured out onto the blissful cold floor. Oh celebration, I survived and the 80 degree weather outside feels positively frigid. Our bear, now clad in a shirt as our eyes would not be able to take the site if they were not protected by the steam in the studio, congratulates me and asks if I would like to sign up for their ten week special. I told him I would take it under advisement and would email him.

To give true credit, I did feel quite good afterwards on the drive home and the jamba juice that quickly followed, however that might simply be relief upon realizing I actually survived. So for those of you who have not gone sky diving, or bungee jumping and are looking for a thrill, this isn’t terrible. You will feel close to death at times (maybe this is what hell will feel like), but you will emerge just as Dante once again returned under the night stars to face new challenges and see life (or at least women in yoga) in a whole new light.