Two posts in two days??? Damn, I'm on a roll. (But mostly, I'm just avoiding a pile of grading). I hate the winter. I'm cold all of the time. Most people that see me run on a cold day are like, "It's really frigid out there!" Honestly, the moment I run is the warmest part of my day. I recently purchased a space heater for work. I hugged it for an hour and still felt cold. So, I decided to try hot yoga. I'm a yogi. I've practiced yoga for a bit. I'm a lazy yogi, though. I like doing things on my own time, and I mostly enjoy practicing during the chaos of my own space at home, when I'm wearing jeans and my kids and dog are climbing all over me, while giving me kisses. Seriously, you can't beat that.
But, in my craving for heat, I schlepped my lazy yogi butt over to a hot yoga studio to try something new. I have tried a few classes, but I can only really handle the one where you hold poses for a long time. Anything with the words "vinyasa" and "hot" in the title are frightening and will most likely result in me passed out on the floor.
The first time that I attended, I had forgotten a towel. In a normal yoga class, this isn't a big deal, because sweating is at a minimum. However, when the room is 107 degrees, you'll sweat, and I actually sweat buckets. So, there I was, slipping along through hot yoga, unable to hold limbs in my hand or legs on my mat. Aside from an occasional panic attack from the heat and frustrations about being without a towel, I survived. As I lied in savasana, I felt pretty accomplished, only to discover that there was no actual time for savasana that was built into the class, and I actually had to be somewhere, so I couldn't stay longer. Talk about a buzz kill.
I kept going and surviving, until tonight. The class was the same as always, but the room felt a billion degrees hotter. I showed up in some tiny shorts and a tank top. Again, buckets of sweat began to pool on the towel that I have not forgotten since my first class. I looked around at the tight body yogis, advancing their postures and doing crazy movements in their bra tops and pre-baby bellies, and I thought, "F-this". I stripped off my shirt and finished my practice, baring a little extra skin. I haven't even worn a bikini in public since Rowan. My only feeling was pride for my body, and I am pretty sure that no one actually even noticed everything that I was so self-conscious about. I moved and I folded, and so did my more squishy parts, and I loved watching the postures fit my body. I breathed deeply to watch my belly expand, and I folded further to see the space that my babies once filled, move inward with strength and grace.
Truthfully, I think my love affair with hot yoga is coming to an end. I really don't enjoy it as much as I enjoy a regular vinyasa style class, in a normal temperature room. But, if and when I do attend again, it will almost certainly be without my shirt. There is so much to be gained by watching your body move, just as it is.
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