Hot 'n' Sweaty Yoga

Today I got it in my head that I was going to try taking some classes at the yoga studio where I'd like to take teacher training. They offer the first week free, so you can try it out. Since this was a rather spur-of-the-moment decision, I went directly from work to the 5:30 level 2 class uptown. Boy, am I glad I live on the East side and don't have to make THAT commute every day!

There were tons of people out walking around and smoking outside restaurants and generally hanging out enjoying the 45 degree weather. I forgot how much life Uptown has compared to Longfellow.

So I get to the yoga class and the studio is swanky and hipster cool, as expected. I unroll my mat and notice that I'm the only one in a class of about 25 people who does not have at least one towel. Now, I usually grab a towel to wipe off my sweaty hands at the yoga classes at my work fitness center, where the room is barely 65 degrees, so I know it will be somewhat uncomfortable for me here, where the temp. seems to be around 80. But then what do I know? I keep my house at 67 at the highest. I have heard these classes are warm, but this wasn't the "hot yoga" so I wasn't terribly concerned. At least not until they turned on the humidifier. And yes, I made the rookie mistake of placing my mat directly in front of the heating vent AND right below the apparatus that was hissing steam. By the time I realized it, it was too late, the place was packed and I didn't have anywhere else to go.

Knowing my capacity for perspiration, I thought about going out into the boutique and buying whatever absorbent piece of cloth they may have for sale. But I talked myself out of it. I can endure anything for an hour, right?

I think the mirror here makes me look about 20 pounds heavier than the one at the fitness center at work. It couldn't have anything to do with the girl in front of me who is 5'10" and has calves that are smaller than my wrist.

It starts off fine, I'm able to follow along and the poses are all familiar to me. Then I start to sweat. It was inevitable. I'm a sweat-er. This is why I like winter sports, because I can got into a sauna afterwards and it actually feels good in contrast.

These people are all really fit. Plus, there's no talking in the yoga room, so they all seem very serious as well. None of them look at me and go "you don't have a towel? here, you can use mine."

We go through a series of poses that other instructors like to describe as "heat generating."

And here's where I'm like the Billy Idol song "and I sweat, and I sweat, and I sweat, sweat , sweat, sweat, sweat, sweat." Only I wasn't with myself. I was with 25 other people who all had towels and I didn't. Their sweat was easily absorbed and wiped away, while mine pooled up under me and trickled into my eyes. Good thing I can use verbal cues so I can keep my eyes shut.

It gets harder and harder to stay in downward dog, when my hands and feet start to slide in opposite directions. I look down and see the drip, drip, drip, drip, drip of sweat coming off my head and landing on my mat, making it even more slippery, as if I need that.

I look around to see if anyone has witnessed my travail in keeping myself upright, and perhaps is contemplating offering me the use of their towel, but everyone is focused on their inner selves.

For a nanosecond I contemplate leaving class early. I don't know how much longer I can endure the profuse wetness. Now my hair is completely soaked. I look at the woman next to me, whose back muscles are bulging under her tank top, and her hair is completely dry. And she has a towel that she apparently doesn't even need.

By the time the instructor tells us to do crow pose, I almost collapse in laughter at the impossibility of keeping my legs from sliding immediately down my upper arms as I try to balance on my hands. Yeah, right. I do child's pose instead. I can't slip anywhere when I'm curled up in a ball on the ground.

Toward the end of the session, we do half pigeon, which I actually like and I'm glad that it's a pose I can do without having to balance on sweaty hands. So I bring my right leg in front of me and I'm transported immediately to the backyard slip and slide we had when I was 8. My leg slides in front of me and keeps going, almost into the splits. Wow, I didn't know I could go that deep into the pose.

Finally it's corpse pose time and I'm thrilled that I actually survived.

Now that I'm done, and totally soaked in sweat, all I want is a shower. But it's hard to dry off after a shower when you don't have a towel. So I wait long enough for some of it to evaporate off me before climbing back into my work clothes (ech) and finally getting a drink from the sink.

I remember seeing, in the boutique area, one of those thirsty towel thingies you put on top of your mat.

I look at it again on the way out. The price tag says $75.

If, in the middle of class, a peddler would have pushed in a cart of those things, I probably would have forked it over.

So I get a whole week free of hot sweaty yoga. I can't wait for tomorrow!

Namaste :)