The best place?
(Photo: Ning.com)
So many places, locally or otherwise, that I consider the best place, and more than likely it’s somewhere cozy and relaxing. If it’s nice weather outside, more than likely it’s somewhere hiking.
But every single day, and increasingly as of late, the coolest place that crosses my mind, the one that perks me up and motivates me, is the Bikram yoga studio here in San Antonio.
For the ones who don’t know, this is the description from Wikipedia:
Bikram’s Yoga, also known as hot yoga, is a style of yoga developed by Bikram Choudhury. 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.
I first learned about Bikram yoga about 9 years ago, right after my son was born. Prior to this, I’d been heavily into activities like mountain biking, soccer and boxing. However, I encountered many back issues post-partum, battered and sore and stitched up. Having a boy with a head the size of a satellite dish will do that to you.
Yoga sounded gentle enough to work through most physical issues and also intense enough to give you results. But to be honest, I’d never tried it. And to be even more honest, I was still pretty skeptical. Maybe it’s my personality or maybe it was the brainwashing of the military, but I craved grueling physical activities. Debilitating runs. Aggressive sports like boxing. Calisthenics that left me crippled. A glutton for punishment. Major psychological issues.
When I heard about Bikram, I decided to take on the challenge. I had to see for myself if the hype was overinflated, or if I would die a slow death in Lycra.
Yes, it kicked my ass. Unless you’re one of the few who drink enough water everyday, there’s never really a way to get ready for that first session. Accepting the fact that you will feel nauseous, dizzy, drunk or like you’re stuck in quick sand is good to know ahead of time. Fortunately, the instructors are phenomenally supportive and understanding. The classmates are encouraging — though everyone is really focused on not dying too.
And that is the cool part. Regardless of experience level, everyone is getting a collective ass kicking. It’s not a personal torture; it’s a gradual group triumph.
I think that’s what makes Bikram yoga such a fond place for me. The feeling of accomplishment at the end is too good for words. Sure, during the whole session I’ll curse life, long for a Sonic smoothie, contemplate how to kill the person who invited me. But seeing how far I can push myself is a complete thrill.
Definitely makes up for the fact that my sweat-drenched towel weighs more than me at the end of 90 minutes.
Admittedly, I’ve been an erratic follower over the last 9 years. I haven’t gone to a session in a few months and that may be why it’s on my mind so much. My body craves that adrenaline rush, that sadistic wallop. I need a fix.
Or maybe it’s craving that somatic return to constant hydration and cleansing of impurities. To pushing myself to the edge. Not all addictions are bad…
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