Yoga Loca.
OK, really it's called Yoga Loka. Which I think means "hot yoga". Bikram Yoga. Or as my four-year old refers to it: Sweaty Yoga.
But, in my mind, it's a little bit like Crazy Yoga.
So, I've only done it once, but I think I might need this kind of craziness in my life.
First off, the room is one billion degrees and smells like feet. Everyone is practically naked and you have to drink sixty ounces of water during the ninety-minute session or I am sure you will die. There are 26 poses performed the same way every time and done twice. They are strengthening-hard-core-stretching-your-fingers-back-behind-your-head-and-around-your-ankle-type-of-poses. Because it is so warm, your body is sweating so much that I think your sweat may actually sweat.
As my friend Kim says about Bikram Yoga: "It's not natural for your forearms to sweat. That's just not good."
My forearms, back arms and every other part of my anatomy that's currently carrying an extra ten pounds or so of what I've come to call, Toddler Weight, was definitely perspiring like never before. But, strangely, that and the smelly feet didn't bother me that much. To be honest, I kind of liked it. I liked that the clock in the room had no hands, just a second hand, so you couldn't check to see how much time was left. I liked that the instructor said the same thing over and over and it was something like:
"Just let go. Letting go is the most important thing you will do here."
As a really good holder-on-er, this was a nice change. A nice challenge. Albeit a wet one.
To just focus for ninety minutes on bending my body into various pretzelesque shapes, on getting more in touch with my toes, on not getting email or making phone calls or planning or doing or picking up or putting down or feeding or changing or diapering or laughing or crying. Just being for ninety minutes in my body and seeing what the old gal was capable of was kind of - nice.
Of course, this was all on Tuesday. Today is Thursday and it was time for my next class. The class was at 9 AM this morning and I found 9 AM had come and gone and I had not a sweat bead to show for it. I am however, at eight o'clock at night, still wearing my yoga clothes. I imagine that's good for something, right?
But, in my mind, it's a little bit like Crazy Yoga.
So, I've only done it once, but I think I might need this kind of craziness in my life.
First off, the room is one billion degrees and smells like feet. Everyone is practically naked and you have to drink sixty ounces of water during the ninety-minute session or I am sure you will die. There are 26 poses performed the same way every time and done twice. They are strengthening-hard-core-stretching-your-fingers-back-behind-your-head-and-around-your-ankle-type-of-poses. Because it is so warm, your body is sweating so much that I think your sweat may actually sweat.
As my friend Kim says about Bikram Yoga: "It's not natural for your forearms to sweat. That's just not good."
My forearms, back arms and every other part of my anatomy that's currently carrying an extra ten pounds or so of what I've come to call, Toddler Weight, was definitely perspiring like never before. But, strangely, that and the smelly feet didn't bother me that much. To be honest, I kind of liked it. I liked that the clock in the room had no hands, just a second hand, so you couldn't check to see how much time was left. I liked that the instructor said the same thing over and over and it was something like:
"Just let go. Letting go is the most important thing you will do here."
As a really good holder-on-er, this was a nice change. A nice challenge. Albeit a wet one.
To just focus for ninety minutes on bending my body into various pretzelesque shapes, on getting more in touch with my toes, on not getting email or making phone calls or planning or doing or picking up or putting down or feeding or changing or diapering or laughing or crying. Just being for ninety minutes in my body and seeing what the old gal was capable of was kind of - nice.
Of course, this was all on Tuesday. Today is Thursday and it was time for my next class. The class was at 9 AM this morning and I found 9 AM had come and gone and I had not a sweat bead to show for it. I am however, at eight o'clock at night, still wearing my yoga clothes. I imagine that's good for something, right?
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