Tag Archives: exercise

Absolutely Hot Yoga

In search of my personal yoga perfection I booked myself a ten day pass at my local hot yoga studio. Such a leap of faith was it that I needed to holiday for a week in the hope of recovering from the stress of commitment to heat, sweat, pain and possible panic.

The holiday was super as you know. In Lanzarote I ‘endured’ heat, sweat, only the pain of one too many and no panic what so ever. But then I had to come home and be a yogi amongst titan yogis. Oh the terror. Ah, the lack of sleep. Hmmm, the self recrimination and the contemplation of pulling out and thus letting myself down.

I bought fast drying, tight fitting, all purpose leggings and a sports bra. I dug out a baggy cotton vest and a huge drink bottle. I promptly bottled out of the first class – a foundation level introduction – and so found myself in an ‘Absolute 50′, hour and a half session where my rapid changes of position bore no relation to the other yogis’ in the studio and my dizzy spells went virtually unnoticed because of all the contortionist movement going on around me. #smallmercies

“If this is your first hot yoga,” L……. said to me, “You might be happier at the back.”

Oh so much happier but there was no space for me at the back or I’d have been there boots and all.

My teacher moved an expert to the mirrored front and I settled into my natural habitat at the very tail end of yet another class. #storyofmylife

My brow was beaded with sweat and my breathing laboured. I felt ever so slightly feverish. It was very hot in there.

Then the class began.

“You can’t drink yet.” L…… had spotted me, bending for my bottle, all the way at the rear. “Move away from that jeroboam of water. We haven’t finished the warm up yet.”

Five minutes into the 90 and with 49 asanas to go and I was feeling humid, flushed and more than a little discombobulated. It got worse. Much worse. I was too hot to get the giggles. It wasn’t very funny anyway. I had a wee sit down and felt better. Briefly. Who knew so many of my body parts don’t work properly? Even in, joint relaxing, 40 degree heat.

My bathroom towel kept slipping on the yoga mat, bunching and fighting me with vicious abandon. Straightening it gave me regular breaks. And by now we were allowed to sip our fluids. To compensate the positions got harder. I was sort of managing the first stage of complex, body breaking contortions. And then having a little rest. I was dripping with sweat. L……. helped me into a couple of impossible holds. I realised body lotion makes the limbs very slippy to hold on to. At least I smelt nice. Well I hope I did.

I managed to complete the class. #yougogirl

I booked an ‘easier’ one for the Wednesday. I went. Then I booked an easier, easier one for Saturday.

I have persevered as an adjunct to my not hot yoga classes.

I am looking forward to my turn at this.

you are one crazy dude (www.telegraph.co.uk)
you are one crazy dude (www.telegraph.co.uk)

And in anticipation I have bought a non-slip towel and a smaller water bottle. I no longer apply lotion to my limbs before class. My hips are flexing wider and my waist seems to be shrinking.

It’s a journey – apparently.

Namaste.

And Today is Yoga Day

channelling the peaceful (community warrior.com)
channelling the peaceful (community warrior.com)

This afternoon I am attending my first ever yoga session. It is an hour and a half long. I am very nervous.

I am nervous because I do not think I am going to be good at yoga. I am not going to be good a yoga because:

I am utterly inflexible (bodywise). I cannot touch my toes or even straighten my legs properly. On a day to day basis, these defects have not hindered my pursuit of the good life but in a yoga class I predict that they just might.

ooh, arrh Mrs (Yogacentre.com)
oooh, arrh Mrs (Yogasuite.net)

I will not be able to do any of these positions…….or anything resembling them. Not this afternoon. Not, I fear, ever.

Where is her head in image 5 btw?

I should look at this as aspirational but as a woman with her two feet on terra firma at all times except bed-time, Mrs Carmichael finds the prospect ever so slightly daunting.

easy peasy (twentysomethingwoman.com)
easy peasy (twentysomethingwoman.com)

 

I should be able to manage this.

 

 

 

And this.

no sweat (yogafocus.co.uk)
no sweat (yogafocus.co.uk)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Will that be good enough? I doubt it. Not for an hour and a half. An hour and a half! What have I signed up to?

I am not going to be good a yoga because:

When I can’t do something I tend to become the class clown. I don’t want to be the 2.30pm yoga class clown but bearing in mind that it took me a second to find photo #2 and a good ten to find #s 3 and 4 amongst the contortionists purporting to be in yoga positions on google, I think there’s a high likelihood that I will be sporting a curly wig, pancake makeup and huge shoes by 4.00 o’clock. Oh, woe is me.

I am not going to be good a yoga because:

I don’t have the correct clothing. I don’t even know what the correct clothing is. Am I going to be the odd one out before the class has even started and my utter inability to do anything yogaish is noticed by teacher and classmates alike? Perhaps I should drop out of this afternoon’s class and head straight to Sweaty Betty for a Carmichael sports couture infusion.

Or perhaps I should just stay home and watch House of Cards on Netflix instead.

Thoughts?