Bikram Yoga Class One

I was having a terrible time coming up with something I actually hate because life is way to short for that so while doing something I actually love I remembered something I actually hated.

I hated with a passion my first day of Bikram Yoga. Bikram Yoga is ideally practiced in a room heated to 105°F (40.5°C) with a humidity of 40%. Classes are guided by specific dialogue including 26 postures and two breathing exercises. Classes last approximately 90-minutes.

My first class I was literally dragged into class by my ex-wife as she in her infinite wisdom saw it as a path to spiritual enlightenment. Our marriage was on the rocks and I remember how deeply I wanted to make the marriage work and the over whelming feeling of self defeat that I would actually go to such a class just to make her happy. I loathed the fact that I was powerless in this rapidly declining relationship.

I walked into the studio and it immediately smelled of stale sweat. The acrid smell burned my nose hair like a smoky wood fire fueled by green wet wood. It permeated every inch of that 104 degree room. What really lit my fire on that day, was that my ex took a spot across the studio as far away as possible from me. She was the yoga expert and I was the novice left to my own devices half a room away. She had a look in her eye that has been burned into my memory for a long time. Her black tights were probably sexy to the rest of the room but what I noticed was the snarl on her face that could only be read as saying, I am in charge here.

But what I hated most was the class itself. I actually liked the calmness of the room and the instructor sounded like the morning lead on NPR. That calm smart voice that would impart wisdom and trust to the listener, the voice that would keep us listening.

What I had issue with was the routine itself. I could hold my own fitness wise and only a few weeks earlier I had completed an arduous 46 mile run around Mt. Hood. Always lurking in the back of my feeble distracted mind was the stark simple fact of what could be more difficult. This would be a walk in the park.

After about twelve minutes of class I was a clammy smelly pool of sweat struggling to perform the poses that that rest the class performed with ease. There were mirrors in the room and from every angle I could see my fellow class mates absorbed in this ritual. They seemed happy and absorbed and part of the group that I was not a part of. I felt like a clumsy out sider with sweat dripping into my eyes. The sweat burned like a purification head ache. The last beer I had last night echoed like an over played bad hit song, but i only had 78 minutes to endure. How could I be sweating from the end of nose. The sweat trickled off the end of of my nose like a leaking water faucet.

What blindsided me the most, was that I was gasping for air. It perplexed and frustrated every inch of my body. I had not moved an inch but every bend of my body in 104 degree heat robbed me of my dignity, my sense of who I was as an athletic person. The calm on the girl's face next to me irritated me like an alarm clock that goes off every five minutes as I just wanted to find peaceful slumber.

The instructor in her NPR voice, instructed me to keep my eyes open and be in the room. I desperately wanted to be anywhere but here. We went into a pose about forty minutes in that promoted the wellness of the reproductive organs of the body. My mind wandered everywhere contemplating mere survival. My watch and mind showed only 39 minutes of this madness to endure. My body disagreed. I hated being here

My mind was not in the room any more and my arms hung off my body like over cooked pasta. My spine tingled and the worst part of it was that I was breathing like I was running at a 6 mile per minute pace and I had not moved from my ugly blue sweaty yoga mat. My mind left my body for awhile aimlessly thinking where in my chaotic life had I purchased a yoga mat. And more importantly, why did i purchase this instrument of pain and humiliation.

This was my first class and i had been thrust into this moment and i had no idea when class would end. I was completely at the will of the instructor and this drove me crazy as she could instruct this pain forever. I remember thinking how much I loathed this minute in my life and hating the fact that the last 90 or so minutes hurt more than I wanted anything to hurt both physically and spiritually.

I remembered this at the same yoga class today as I talked to first time students students going through the same enigma I went through years ago...