A hot panic

Yesterday I decided to try something new. I put myself in a room heated to 105 degrees and crowded with twenty other people, received orders from a very tan tattooed man, and put myself into 26 different twisty, sweaty positions while staring at myself in a mirror for 90 minutes. This experience, what I would call panic-inducing torment, is also known as Bikram yoga. And I'm going to go back and try it again.

I sweat completely through my clothes, my towel, and my hair. I had sweat dripping from my elbows, my pigtails, and down the length of my legs. I was so wet I had a hard time gripping my ankles and feet for positions that required me to grip them. The instructor was not of the calm, soothing variety I had come to expect in a yoga class. His name was Angel, he had a big lotus tattooed on his abdomen, and he clapped and shouted at us like a step aerobics instructor. Very peppy, very strong, not at all relaxing. I felt a bit nauseous and almost passed out a couple of times. The instructor kept talking about focusing on my breath to avoid thoughts of panic or deep-seated emotional distress. It didn't help. Because every class features the same 26 positions in the same order, most people knew exactly what they were doing and didn't seem a bit concerned. There's a reason they have a rule that students can not leave class unless "bleeding, vomiting, or passed out." Were it not for that rule, and the calm composure of my fellow sweaters, I would have run out of that room after five minutes. Sounds like a picnic, right? There's a reason your second class as a new student is free. It might just be the only way to get you to come back.

But when I left, I felt completely drained and renewed. I felt calm, kind of wrung out and floppy, kind of cleansed. A bit disoriented, but cleansed. Next time I'll know better what to expect, which should reduce the anxiety and allow me to relax and enjoy the practice a bit more. The relaxation comes after class, not during.

Here's to trying new things.