There are no egos in this class.
Lady, it’s as hot as the surface of Mercury, my internal organs are roasting and I’m lying here in a warm pool of my own bodily secretions, if I had an ego, surely it melted away not long after I entered the room. For tonight, you see, I made my second awkward foray into the crazy world of hot yoga, or more specifically, the ‘Hot Yinyasa Groove’ class offered at Yoga by Sarah and I have only three words:
Ho lee shit!
If you recall, its part of my current training action plan to make peace with the heat and humidity, except that the weather here just doesn’t seem to want to cooperate with me, so I decided to take matters into my own hands. But where I survived ‘Round One’ back in March, this time, well, not so much as it turns out.
When I first decided this morning that I was going to attend a hot yoga class this evening, I made sure to hydrate properly throughout the day and even made sure that I wasn’t going on a full belly; towels – check; matt – check; two large bottles of ice water – check; ego – are you kidding me? Anyway, I arrived a little early to get set up as I’ve learned is appropriate to do; remembered to pack a large towel to act as an absorbent on my mat (for all the good it did I may as well have laid down sheet metal); positioned my water within easy reach and made myself comfortable, or as comfortable as one can be with the temperature beginning to rise above the 85° mark anyway (35-ish% humidity).
I was originally pretty pleased for being able to keep up with the group. It’s been a while since I’ve participated in an instructor lead class so being able to keep pace with the rest of class was a confidence booster in and of itself. This class was a bit unique in that it was set to a rocking soundtrack so it was a new realm of fun I haven’t experienced yet with yoga and I was really beginning to dig it.
However, as the class got started so too did the sweat and, man, did it ever! In fact, it ran literally everywhere: in my eyes, in my ears, in my nose, over my chest, down my back, shit, there was sweat pooling in places I didn’t even know sweat could pool. Tidal waves of sweat were cascading from every pour; you could have generated enough electricity to light up the Taj Mahal from the sweat rushing into my shorts. No kidding! It blurred my vision, made my limbs slippery and hard to hang onto, and my breathing became extremely labored; to boot, I had the heart rate of a gerbil on crack. But I was coping. ”Embrace the Suck’ I did. So this is what it feels like to suffer in the heat? Cool.
Confidence level rising…
But things started to feel decisively different around 45 minutes into the class. Having done this hot yoga thing before, I thought that I was a little more ‘yoga savvy’. I knew it was going to be difficult and uncomfortable, but here I was wheezing and gasping like an asthmatic orangutan. I took a few minutes to fold back into Child Pose in order to compose myself to finish out the last 25 minutes or so, but then I also began to feel little light-headed and nauseous. Uh oh! What’s going on? I cycle for three hours before running another two on any typical weekend and here I was getting my ass handed to me in a hot yoga studio in under 45 minutes?
Confidence level falling…
I drank some water and tried to talk myself through it but I didn’t feel any better. I drank and drank and drank, but to no avail. At the exact moment I made the decision that I needed to leave the room for a moment, an AC/DC tune started up on the instructor’s playlist. Oh great, bad enough I was quitting with only 15 minutes left in the class, but here I was walking out during one of history’s most important Man Anthems. Ego my ass!
But there it is – I openly admit it: I tapped out to ‘You Shook Me All Night Long’. The shame of which simply goes without saying. You haven’t experienced humility until you’ve walked out on a group of hot yoga chicks during an AC/DC song. I can only hope that none of the other dudes in the class saw me otherwise they might ask me to revoke my ‘Man Card’.
After 5 minutes, I decided to go back in and reclaim whatever might still be left of my pride. No pain, no gain after all, right? I managed to finish out the last 10 minutes or so and was ultimately glad that I had made it back in. And sucky as it felt, I knew this was the exact kind of conditioning I need if I’m ever going to deal with the intense heat and humidity of Cancun, so I signed up for a one month pass (July special – $39.99 unlimited access).
God help me, but I’m going to crack this heat issue if it kills me. At the very least, I’m going to spend a lot of time sweating like a prostitute at Sunday confessional this summer.