The Memoirs of a Yoga Virgin.

The Memoirs of a Yoga Virgin. 

I have a love-hate relationship with my new found obsession...yoga.  I must confess that  I'm not quite sure why I'm there.  I have many reasons, but frequently, in that moment of zen, I open my eyes wide (everyone else's is closed) , and ask myself, "Now why am I here?"    

Exactly one month  and 20 sessions ago, I walked into a yoga studio, a virgin.  I was a yoga virgin.  I immediately loved being there, as the studio smelled of eucalyptus and I got to do something physical without shoes.  This was a big WIN.  I hate all forms of workout shoes (and workouts), so my heart was singing as I had found my space.  This particular studio offers Hot Yoga.  Okay, I'm in.  If cold yoga is good, Hot has to be better.  So, alone, with about 30 new found friends  I ventured into a room that literally took my breath away.  It was 105 degrees and I moved slowly and hesitantly around the room, looking for a breath of fresh, cool air, so that I could sustain myself.  It didn't exist.  Every single crevice of this room was HOT!!!! Really hot!!  I laid down on my rented mat, as I didn't own a mat or any of the required Lulu Lemon yoga clothes. I wore an old pair of leggings and a stretched out pink tank top that my assistant gave me, as she informed me I really shouldn't wear a long sleeve shirt to hot yoga. Good point. 

Downward Dog!  Okay, I've got this.  How the heck do you do a downward dog...in 105 degrees?  I peeked and watched the guy next to me.  I was hoping he had good form because  I certainly didn't want anymore embarrassment, especially since I  already was in violation without Lulu.   Downward Dog, Warrior One, Child pose and "don't forget to breath", the yoga Nazi massaged the directions with her calming voice.  An hour seemed like five, and the only time I ever remember being that wet (without taking a shower) was in a torrential downpour.  I was drenched to the lighted center of my core, not to mention my hair drenched to my scalp and my clothes were attached to my body like a suction cup. I was dripping and the reflection looking back at me from the full mirrored wall was not a girl I knew.

I laid on my mat in exhaustion just wishing for one little breath of cool air.  Nope. Nothing! I pulled myself up slippery and dripping to make a mad dash to my car, when someone said, Hi Susan, how long have you been coming here.  I felt like I was living in an old Seinfeld rerun, and I tried to wipe away the sweat, without the aid of a towel.  It was futile.   So, as black mascara and eyeliner dripped down my cheeks and my hair was stuck to the back of my neck and my bangs glued to my forehead, I had a conversation (I think) about what else, Real Estate.  Really?  All I wanted to do was run outside and drive dangerously away to wring out my clothes and get into a shower.

I survived, took  shower,  fell into bed in exhaustion and humiliation, and decided to study the enhanced benefits of HOT yoga.  According to most reports, there is none. None!!!  It feels good.  It just feels good.  It supposedly doesn't burn more calories, as everyone will tell you, or sweat out the toxins.  The amount of toxins that are sweated out really are not as big a benefit as the damage of dehydration. I did lose an almost instant five pounds that first week.

Is this what "going to the top of the mountain" is supposed to be like?  I wasn't sure.  But I am not giving up.  I will try Hot yoga again . . . maybe in a few years.  But for now, I decided to try a more civilized form of Yoga . . . next session Ashtanga.     I can't wait to tell you about my Ashtanga experience, as it was just fabulous.