Bikram Revisited

I fondly remember when I hated yoga.

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 last approximately 90-minutes.
When I was first introduced to the idea of Bikram yoga, I had visions of Aiust afternoons spent in Washington DC, it was like living under water as one could not escape it, the heat was always present and sat on your shoulder, relentlessly.

I was coaxed into my first Bikram 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.

We silently 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 probably really bothered me, was that my ex took a spot across the studio as far away as possible from me. She appeared as the yoga expert and I felt like the novice left to my own devices half a room away. I felt very alone, naked and exposed.

The calmness of the room was very soothing 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 doing yoga.

What I simply hated was the Yoga 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. The first few poses had my hamstings screaming and I felt totally out of control as subtle dizzyness over took me. I felt hung over and gloomy.

After about twelve steamy minutes of class I was a clammy smelly pool of sweat struggling to perform the poses that that rest the class performed with ease. My fellow class mates seemed happy and at peace, I really resented that. They seemed happy 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. I did not resent their calm, rather I hated the fact that my mind was racing out of control. 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 my nose? The sweat trickled off the end of of my nose like a leaking water faucet. Drip, Drip, Drip - I could not stop the sweating from my nose onto my yoga mat. It dripped like an insistant clock on a sleepless night.

What surprised me the most, was that I was gasping for air. It perplexed and frustrated every inch of my body. I had barely moved but every bend of my body in 104 degree heat robbed me of my dignity,as well as 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 did not want to see my distorted face in the mirror. 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 showed only 39 minutes of this madness to endure. I hated being here.

My mind had left my body as my arms hung off me like over cooked pasta. The spine tingled and I was breathing like I was racing at a six mile per minute pace and I had not moved from my ugly blue sweaty yoga mat. I remember 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.

I was no longer in control as 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 was elated when class finally concluded, I felt like a pine tree swaying in the wind on a perfect fall day. I felt great, connected to the world.

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...