The solution? Hot yoga. I have been doing yoga on and off for about 12 years now. Even have my own mat and know the yoga terms.
Yoga…love it.
Stress relief…super love it.
Exercise without feeling like I am a flailing idiot…super duper love it.
Yoga postures practiced in a heated room ~37C/~ 98F…maybe kinda sorta love it?
Day 1
My first class. 60 minutes of strengthening, stress relief and cleansing. Sounds like just what I need. Off I go, with my yoga mat, a towel, water and over flowing enthusiasm. I am headed to the studio alone, because that’s my new thing now and I am ready to flow.
Stripped down to as little as I possibly could, which means a t-shirt and yoga capri pants, I head to the studio and open the door. Immediately, the heat hits me. Now hear me out. I am not a heat loving kind of gal. Summer is my least favourite season and I won’t even get started on what it does to my hair.
Anyway…my hair doesn’t matter, because it was pulled back in a head band which by the end of class made me look like a sweaty lion. But I am rambling…back to the class.
I lay my mat down, organize my towel, my water and get into Savasana. Laying flat on your back, arms at your sides and palms up. As I am laying there, I am supposed to be setting my intention for my practice. All I can think about is the heat in the room and how it might affect my asthma. I mean, I didn’t even bring my inhailers!
Focus, breathe, set your intention….I just kept repeating it to myself. My body adjusted to the room, I had an amazing session and felt great after. And yes, I was soaking wet, slightly giddy, had a lion mane for a hair do and felt fabulous on my way out.
Day 2
Feeling confident and loving the hot in the hot yoga, I decide to branch out and go to an evening class, where there were more people, the room was a little warmer from the day and the class was 75 minutes long. No sweat…lol
First of all let me just say, I was quite distracted by the sweaty, shirtless, sculpted man who decided to put his mat right in front of mine. Anyway…dragging along my cousin and meeting a friend there for moral support, we got right down to business. The instructor was great, provided a challenging series of poses for us and I was sweating. I mean really sweating. Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I had to do a double take. Dripping from every single cell in my body, I looked like I just climbed out of a swimming pool. Face red, clothes stuck to my body from sweat and a puddle on my mat, I plowed ahead. Around the 60 minute point, I thought to myself….I am going to make it…I have done a 75 minute class!!!
Downward dog series…love this part of practice. It`s not only my favourite because I know the end of the class is near, I just love the flow of it. Head down, ass in the air, sweat dripping into my eyes, my mouth, up my nose…I mean even my hair follicles were sweating. I felt great. After the 3rd set of downward dog flow movements, I started to feel a little dizzy. Ok…a lot dizzy. Sweet Jesus, was it getting hotter in the room or was it just me. The series of movements in downward dog flow can be quick…hence the term `flow`. Moving as gracefully into pigeon pose as I could manage, I thought for sure I was going to puke.
I made a mental note not to eat before class again. Dinner was sitting in my gut like a lump of, well vomit. Don`t puke, breathe, don`t puke, breathe, quickly became my mantra as I eased myself out of pigeon and put my head in my lap, crumpled up in child`s pose with my face on the floor in a puddle of my own sweat. Puking in a room full of strangers would be horrifying enough, but remember the room is heated people…the smell alone would probably have me banned from the studio for life.
As I am crumpled in a sweaty hot mess, in a heap on my mat, I gave myself a quick pep talk. For the love of all things holy, I have had two children…a C-Section with one of them. I have survived a baby with colic. I have had broken bones, held a person while they took their last breath, fought off a skunk in the driveway while putting out the garbage, manhandled a bag of softener salt, internet dated…get your ass up and finish this class like the stubborn asshole I know you are.
Yes, I finished the class, no I didn`t vomit and I went home with an intense feeling of satisfaction and gas. Lots and lots of gas.
Day 3
I went back. I put out my best intentions to the universe while I stood in warrior pose in the sunlight. I felt strong, powerful and proud. I made it through 60 minutes of stretches, poses and flows, felt my stress sweat right out of my soul and I left it there in a puddle on the studio floor. And because I am who I am, I cried all the way home and let a few more bricks in my wall come down.
To be continued….
YIPEE! for Moksha Yoga Stratford!
ReplyDeleteAbsolutely...love it and love you too Jess xo
DeleteYOU go GIRL!!! xoxoxo
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