Today was the day I had been looking forward to. It was Hot Yoga day. On my ever-lasting quest to lose my personal Buddha (no offense Buddha, I just don't need you anymore) I have been wanting to check out an actual yoga class for a long time. I've done tapes in the past and I'm quite flexible being as overweight as I am, but I've never gone to a real life class with a real life instructor before. There is class in town that's probably cool and dry but the timing always seems to be off. Then a lovely lady in my moms group mentioned Hot Yoga had this deal too good to pass up. 10 classes for 10 bucks. Hot dog!! Say it isn't true sweet jebus I thought. " Really? A dollar a class????" I asked. I was pretty much "in" for the challenge as soon the words crossed her lips. Who can pass up a deal like that. So we decided today, Sunday, at 10 am was the day and we went for it.
I blissfully slept in until 8:30. But I knew my partner in crime, EE, was going to pick me up at nine for our scorching adventure. So I rolled out of bed, put on my clothes, slathered myself in deodorant, pulled my hair up, broke out my new, crisp yoga mat and grabbed a towel. We were off shortly after not really knowing what we were getting ourselves into.
I could feel the heat on my skin as soon as we walked into the building. We eagerly stepped up to the counter with our newness written all over our foreheads as the balding yogi set us all up and got us signed in. We walked into the changing room to strip down to our barest layers and made our way into the classroom. I was anticipating the class to be hot. But it was so friggin' sweltering in that room with heaters blowing and the rubber floor being heated you could have boiled water. I, the girl who hates the heat in the summer time, gingerly laid my mat down with a clean, dry towel on top and sat down. The sweat started to roll out of every pore in my body. Pours I didn't even know I had. I kept getting whiffs of the faint patchouli and body odor smell. I let my eyes wonder around the room scouting out the body types and making assumptions of personalities. There I was, about to embark on my first ever yoga class.
Deep breath in.
The instructor entered the room and got us started right away. "Oh crap, here we go!" I thought. It was hot and hard. I felt dizzy and like I was going to throw up from the conditions in parts but I felt strong and flexible. It was 90 minutes of drenching sweat and stinky bodies moving together in and out of twisty poses. After the first 45 minutes I was praying for it to be over soon. By the last 20 minutes I couldn't do much more for fear of tossing my cookies from the heat and my empty stomach. All I could think about was getting out of that hot box and into the cold, refreshing air. And finally . . . . . . at 11:34 am, we were allowed to break free.
That. Could very well. Might possibly have been. The. Very best feeling I have had in a long time. It was invigorating to finally burst out of the doors and fill my lungs with that sweet, cool air at last. Eureka!!
As with anything, the more you do it, the easier it gets so I'll probably go back and try to use up my nine classes before my pass expires in the 30 days. I'll know how to better prepare myself. What to bring and what to wear. There's a class tomorrow night at 8:15 that I might go to. I can not wait to see if my efforts this weekend will pay off at weigh in on Tuesday. Keep your fingers crossed.
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