I barfed at my first Bikram yoga class and I still want to go back tomorrow
I went to Bikram yoga for the first time this morning at the Sweatbox in Capitol Hill. I haven’t done yoga since I didn’t give a shit in high school gym class, but in my new Seattle life I wanted to move beyond solitary Planet Fitness workouts and into group classes. And I got a great deal on Groupon–$39 for 30 classes in 60 days. Classes are normally $20 each or $140 for a month-long membership.
On my walk to the Sweatbox, I was stressed because the website told new students to arrive 20 minutes early and I certainly wasn’t going to. I got there about one minute early, which I guess is really 19 minutes late, but it wasn’t a problem. I paid $2 to rent a yoga mat and signed a waver saying I understand the risks and that neither I nor my heirs will ever sue. Then–mat, towel, and water bottle in hand–I made my way into the steamy studio.
The class consisted of 26 poses and two breathing exercises. And everything was hard. Stretching was hard. Keeping my arms lifted over my head was hard. The room was so hot I was soon soaked through. Sometimes I started to feel nauseous or lightheaded, so I would lay down on my mat until the feeling passed.
Let’s just say I spent a lot of time on the mat.
The class ended with the instructor gradually turning off the lights, saying “Namaste,” and leaving the room. After that, I had to stay on my mat and cry for a minute. The class was so hard, and I felt tired and sick, and I was soaking wet, but I did it. I survived.
And then I went into the changing room and puked into my towel.
The women around me were all very sweet and helpful, and one of them gave me a juicebox. I sat on a bench in the changing room for a few minutes and drank my Pedialyte, then made my way outside for a windy walk home.