I looked up from my runny eggs at Salisbury House and across to Stafford Street Hot Yoga. I’d never noticed the place before, but I’d never been looking for it. My daughter had been doing hot yoga somewhere else, and raved about it, but I gave it little thought; no more thought than yoga in general. Really how much exercise could it be? You pretty much stayed in one place . . . on a mat.
It was one of those windy December mornings where the idea of any hot room had a certain appeal, and purposefully standing on a mat was probably more exercise than I’d had in a while. I had regularly managed to drag myself down to Sal’s for a greasy breakfast, so it’s not like a walk to the studio would be difficult.
I pulled on the studio’s door, figuring I could ask a few questions and probably talk myself out of this crazy idea. Hot yoga? Really? Me? The door was locked. Apparently they were replacing the floor with some revolutionary material. How could an ‘exercise’ that seemed to involve little movement require special flooring? Yeah, I was skeptical, even suspicious. . . okay, a little curious. Curious enough to visit the website.
Now maybe it was Amanda’s video presentation, along with all the information provided, but there seemed to be a lot more to hot yoga than I’d imagined. I had no idea there were even several types of hot yoga, but this Bikram guy seemed to have it all figured out. The information - on the website and through its links - talked about lowering blood pressure, increasing circulation, and stretching the body and the mind; holistic improvements, all done with 26 poses, in 90 minutes, at 40 degree temperature in 40 per cent humidity. 50 bucks was the cost of an unlimited introduction.
I’d thrown away $50 on crazier ideas before.
I thought more, I read more, and December 12 was approaching. You had to do something substantial on 12/12/12 didn’t you? I did. After guzzling more than the recommended amount of water, I walked down on the Wednesday.
I was shown the room (later referred to as the ‘torture chamber’), offered a brief introduction, and was told listen and watch the mirror if I felt out of place.
This was my first yoga class, my first hot yoga class. I was the fat guy in the bathing suit.
I sort of made it through my first class. I know I got a bit dizzy and did come to appreciate the dead body pose. I did listen. I did drink a lot of water. And did I sweat! I was told not get discouraged, and just to keep trying.
I kept trying. I went, three days in a row. I was sore; parts of my body had no idea they could, or should, stretch like that. By day four I bought yoga shorts – yes, I finally had a reason to step into Lululemon.
My daughter once told me that if you do something for seven days straight it becomes a habit. I went eight days, just to remind myself what a habit could be (at least a good one). Actually, aside from an appointment I couldn’t get out of and the fact the studio was closed for Christmas day, I managed 15 classes in December. I stayed in the room
for all off them.
I used to think that some vigorous walking could provide me with a bit of exercise. Hardly. I knew I was out of shape but didn’t realize how badly. Hot yoga reminded me where I was. It was not good. Each day though, it got better. I could feel it physically, and mentally as well. I was sleeping better, I was eating better, and I was feeling better,
overall. My blood pressure had dropped.
By mid-January, as my 30-day unlimited was coming to a close, I decided if I felt this good on fifty bucks, a hundred dollars wasn’t a bad price to pay for feeling better. I bought the automatic monthly renewal and kept going. I read a brief in Reader’s Digest that said it takes 66 days for a habit to become fully entrenched. So that was my goal, past January and well into February.
There were aches and pains, more than a few struggles, illness, missed days where the snooze button provided a convenient excuse, and I left the room a few times more than I ought to have. Still, for the most part, I kept coming back.
I do the best I can, working to get my postures to the 90 percent level 90 per cent of the time. Some postures I’ve gotten pretty good at; Half Moon and my Rabbit (you know, the towel trick) is not too bad, and I’ve become very accomplished at Savasana. Balance remains an issue for me; I mean really, think of the last time you had to meaningfully stand on one leg for any length time in real life (let alone trying to twist the
other leg into a less than convenient pose)? It had to have been decades since I even tried, but I keep trying, and each day I feel an improvement (and still keep trying to twist that other leg).
I discovered a lot about myself. I found it’s not easy to tame a restless mind for 90 minutes, and that aspiring yogis (apparently I now fall into that category) come in all shapes and sizes, in all ages. I witnessed how even those contortionists who continue to amaze me also take a knee, or a break in Savasana, now and then. I discovered my
clothes fit better now, and that your shins do actually sweat (no, it’s not runoff, the pores open and they sweat). I’ve discovered that in a lifetime of bad habits, a good one can still rise to the surface, if you allow it.
I suppose, among so many things, I’ve learned that hot yoga is mostly about letting go - especially of all those pre-conceived notions - and allowing your mind and muscles to go to places forgotten. It’s about accepting yourself and discovering meditation is not so much a solitary thing, but rather a state you can arrive at in a roomful of strangers.
By accepting the struggle in the room, you are better able to deal with the turmoil in your life.
By this time I’ve heard about other types of hot yoga, and other places to practice, but I really have no reason to look elsewhere, or see if something is better for me. It’s about feeling comfortable where you are. It goes past SSHY’s skilled and supportive instructors, to the people you see on a regular basis in the same hot room. Many of them I still don’t know, any more than to say hello or smile, and still they offer encouragement, a little advice or insight and inspiration. It’s a common ground where everybody, all ages and shapes, leave the ego at the door. Every one of us is doing the same 26 postures, and doing what is best for them. As much as it is a group class, it is very much an individual thing.
So yoga, hot yoga, I do it; even so much as to say I have a yoga practice. Yesterday I completed my 100^th class, and today I’m beginning a challenge (as if the past months have not been challenging). I’m looking forward to the next 100 classes. Bikram’s Hot Yoga has become a habit – dare I say an addiction - and there is so much more to learn, so much more to endure, and so much more to enjoy.
Namaste
Jeffrey Lewis
