Week 4 in New York: Becoming a Bikram Yogi

I've never been an athlete. More than that though, I've never really even been physically active. While I love walking aimlessly around cities or through forest trails, I've never had a burning desire to just get out there and exercise. In high school, I was introduced to yoga in the boys wrestling room in our school basement. Although the gnarly lingering scent of sweaty boys was ever present, I found that I enjoyed the stretching, the postures, and the meditating - the getting in touch with your body and the getting out of touch with everything else that plagued you in a day. Even the stench disappeared after a while. After high school, I went in and out of yoga classes. Never really finding the time or the energy to continue to practice it seriously, and never really being that interested or excited to stay focused.

But, I've always been achy. Bad hips and knees, and a worse back. I needed to find something that would keep me fit and make me feel better - or at least make me feel like I'm not a 74 year old woman. One day a friend suggested that I needed to look into Bikram yoga. He told me how it helped his aches and pains go away - how it made him feel great. I listened and went...and fell in love. Although it's not for everyone - with the room set to a hot 108 degrees fahrenheit and 40% humidity, for 90 minutes of intense physical drilling - it certainly felt like it was for me. For a brief time before moving from Los Angeles to New York, I practiced here and there, as often as I could be bothered. I wanted more, but my circumstance at the time was not particularly conducive. Once I moved back to New York, I found that it was a rare find to come across a Bikram studio, and ended up not continuing to practice. A year later, after a serious amount of life changes, including another change in location, I've found my way back, with the help of that same friend. Carlo and I, now together, also practice together. I have a renewed vigor for the high I feel when I come out of that room, knowing that I'm alive. That I've survived another class. My aches and pains have been replaced with sore muscles, but in a way that actually makes me feel good. I can't get enough. On days when I don't go, I tinker at home with the postures I struggle on, and am excited to get to my next class. On the days when I do go, I feel more whole, more happy, and more able to do whatever it is that I need to do.

Maybe I'll practice a little pada-hastasana before bed.

Cheers,

Breezer M.