Two Words: Hot Yoga

Finding healing in the craziest place.

This is not the author. Photo by Dylan Gillis on Unsplash

I Will Never

Do you have a “never” category in your life? A list of things under the heading, “I will never…?” I do. Sky diving. Marathon. Hot Yoga.

I am emphatic on these points. Certain. Unwavering. There are just some ways in which I simply do NOT want or need to push myself. I stand firm on these points.

But somehow (I’m open to the theory that I was drugged), I recently found myself taking deep breaths in a room heated to over 100 degrees, waiting to begin a yoga class. How did this happen?

My Own Private Summers

It is important to know that I run warm. This isn’t just a menopause thing, which I am definitely in. It’s genetic. My brothers run warm. We are like furnaces. We constantly have “our own private summers.” I really hate it.

I have portable personal fans in my purse, in my work bag, and on my bedside table. I have a fan I can wear around my neck. I bring my fans to game nights. I’ve had to rethink drinking wine because I begin to sweat; a lovely trait to have at dinner parties, where I am mopping my brow over appetizers.

I’m beginning to glisten right now.

So, unless I’m swimming, almost any movement can cause my body temperature to rise. And because I seem on the verge of perspiring all the time, I tend to avoid activities that will launch me directly into a full-blown sweat.

More specifically, all yoga is hot yoga to me.

Despite my heat battles, a friend of mine has told me I should consider hot yoga, singing its praises. Another friend teaches at a local studio. They have told me I would love it. And I just chuckle, shaking my head. “Have you met me?” I ask.

How Did I Get Here?

So, you can imagine my surprise when I found myself in that hot, hot room. Sweating while just sitting on my yoga mat. It wasn’t like I blacked out and suddenly woke up in a strange place. I mean, I did drive my car there. But, I had been so resolute in my determination to never go to a hot yoga class, that I was dumbfounded at my choice.

It might be because I was desperate.

Before this first session at the hot yoga studio, I was nursing a very painful shoulder, a strained or torn rotator cuff. One of my knees was also hurting. My hips were tight. I was generally feeling quite old at 48.

I was also having bouts of insomnia coupled with some recurring anxiety. As I shared this with my devoted hot yoga friend, she suggested once again that I come with her and try a class.

In retrospect, I think I was really desperate.

The First Time

One evening, I met my friend at the studio. We were greeted at the door by a very kind yoga instructor who instructed me to find a spot in the back corner of the room next to a door she sometimes opens for a few seconds at a time during the 60-minute session.

She also mentioned that this spot was the coolest, or rather least hot, place in the room. This was particularly curious to me because the room is about 300 square feet and I wasn’t sure how the heat would decide not to come to this back area. I think what she meant was I wouldn’t be directly under the heaters. Ok.

I had one primary goal for this hour. Success would be measured by one criterion: don’t die. As the class progressed I added additional goals such as: don’t pass out and don’t throw up.

I was successful on all accounts.

It. Was. Hot. Sweltering hot. I-can’t-believe-I’m-choosing-this hot.

I was sweating before the first pose. Sweating like I was wringing every molecule of water out of my body (thankfully, I had been extra hydrating for hours). Sweating like it was an Olympic sport.

And the crazy thing is, I embraced it! Maybe because this was a space where I was supposed to sweat like this, and not at cocktail hour with my friends.

I gave over to the sensations. I felt a release, a cleansing.

And as my body acclimated, I could feel stretching and relief in all the places that had been hurting.

I also realized that this exercise required such intense focus to keep breathing in the extreme heat that it released my brain from the incessant anxiety-laden loop of thoughts.

For this hour, yoga was all I could think about. Yoga and not dying.

For years, I have paid attention to my crazy inner world and tried different techniques to calm it down.

There is only one other exercise that so impacted my mind/body connection and that is rowing on a crew team (which I am desperate to get back to once this shoulder thing heals). During one hour of hot yoga, my thoughts become almost meditative, focusing only on breath and body movement.

Hot yoga is also an exercise of mind over matter, hot matter.

I have often wondered just how strong my mind could be. Could I consciously keep myself calm in circumstances like this? Apparently, I can.

There is a helpful qualifier for this practice. At any time, students can lie down on their mats. In the first class, I took a break to lay in savasana, a term for resting on one’s back. I also welcomed the moment when the teacher opened the door, like a rescue boat throwing a life raft to a drowning woman.

When the class was over, I walked back out into fresh air nearly euphoric, absolutely astounded that I had not only completed a hot yoga session but had survived. My friend just smiled with a slight “I told you so” gleam in her eye.

I was satisfied with having pushed myself to tackle an item on my “never” list.

Back for More

Then, I decided to go back.

I registered for a second class, incredulously shaking my head. “Really, Mandy? Again?” I asked myself. Yes. Again.

The mental and physical relief was immediate and clear.

And, I went back yet again.

Now, as I move through the postures, I sometimes find myself chuckling, still in disbelief that this is something I am choosing, paying, to do. There is some important prep work that helps such as drinking four gallons of water before class (or maybe one gallon but I’m making a point here.)

What’s On Your Never List that Might End Up Surprising You?

I am also certain that hot yoga isn’t for everyone. Where I often enthusiastically hawk whatever thing I am into at the moment, this is one category where I wouldn’t necessarily encourage others to try it. It truly is bat-shit crazy.

But perhaps you have a “never” in your life, a “never” that might turn out to be life-giving in a wildly surprising way.

I find that hot yoga has opened me up, ever so slightly, to the possibility that I might have some very rigid categories that don’t need to be so rigid. By opening myself up, I have found life and relief in unexpected ways.

I am also quite proud of myself for tackling this feat. Hot yoga is very hard. And I feel proud of myself when I do it.

But did I mention, it is really, really hot.