I have always wondered if I would like hot yoga. Here’s a funny, now-deleted Craigslist entry from the Seattle area for a once-used mat. Priceless!
Seattle Craigslist: Yoga Mat for sale used once – $1 (Bellevue)
Yoga mat for sale. Used once at lunch hour class in December 2009. Usage timeline as follows:
Register for hot yoga class. Infinite wisdom tells me to commit to 5 class package and purchase a yoga mat. I pay $89.74. Money well spent, I smugly confirm to myself.
Open door to yoga room. A gush of hot dry air rushes through and past me. It smells of breath, sweat and hot. Take spot on floor in back of room next to cute blonde. We will date.
I feel the need to be as near to naked as possible. This is a problem because of the hot blonde to my left and our pending courtship. She will not be pleased to learn that I need to lose 30 pounds before I propose to her.
The shirt and sweats have to come off. I throw caution to the wind and decide to rely on my wit and conditioning to overcome any weight issues my fiancée may take issue with. This will take a lot of wit and conditioning.
Begin small talk with my bride to be. She pretends to ignore me but I know how she can be. I allow her to concentrate and stare straight ahead and continue to pretend that I don’t exist. As we finish sharing our special moment, I am suddenly aware of a sweat moustache that has formed below my nose. This must be from the all the whispering between us.
Instructor enters the room and ascends her special podium at the front of the room. She is a slight, agitated Chinese woman. She introduces me to the class and everyone turns around to greet me just as I decide to aggressively adjust my penis and testes packed in my Under Armor. My bride is notably unfazed.
Since I do have experience with Hot Yoga (4 sessions just 5 short years ago) I fully consider that I may be so outstanding and skilled that my instructor may call me out and ask me to guide the class. My wife will look on with a sparkle in her eye. We will make love after class.
It is now up to 95 degrees in the room. We have been practicing deep breathing exercises for the last 8 minutes. This would not be a problem if we were all breathing actual, you know, oxygen. Instead, we are breathing each other’s body odor, expelled carbon dioxide and other unmentionables. (Don’t worry, I’ll mention them later.)
It is now 100 degrees and I take notice of the humidity, which is hovering at about 90%. I feel the familiar adorning stare of my bride and decide to look back at her. She appears to be nauseated. I then realize that I forgot to brush my teeth prior to attending this class. We bond.
It is now 110 degrees and 95% humidity. I am now balancing on one leg with the other leg crossed over the other. My arms are intertwined and I am squatting. The last time I was in this position was 44 years ago in the womb, but I’m in this for the long haul. My wife looks slightly weathered dripping sweat and her eyeliner is streaming down her face. Well, “for better or worse” is what we committed to so we press on.
The overweight Hispanic man two spots over has sweat running down his legs. At least I think its sweat. He is holding every position and has not had a sip of water since we walked in. He is making me look bad and I hate him.
I consider that if anyone in this room farted that we would all certainly perish.
It is now 140 degrees and 100% humidity. I am covered from head to toe in sweat. There is not a square millimeter on my body that is not slippery and sweaty. I am so slimy that I feel like a sea lion or a maybe sea eel. Not even a bear trap could hold me. The sweat is stinging my eyeballs and I can no longer see.
This room stinks of asparagus, cloves, tuna and tacos. There is no food in the room. I realize that this is an amalgamation of the body odors of 30 people in a 140 degree room for the last 55 minutes. Seriously, enough with the asparagus, ok?
140 degrees and 130% humidity. Look, bitch, I need my space here so don’t get all pissy with me if I accidentally sprayed you with sweat as I flipped over. Seriously, is that where this relationship is going? Get over yourself. We need counseling and she needs to be medicated. Stat!
150 degrees and cloudy. And hot. I can no longer move my limbs on my own. I have given up on attempting any of the commands this Chinese chick is yelling out at us. I will lay sedentary until the aid unit arrives. I will buy this building and then have it destroyed.
I lose consciousness.
I have a headache and my wife is being a selfish bitch. I can’t really breathe. All I can think about is holding a cup worth of hot sand in my mouth. I cannot remember what an ice cube is and cannot remember what snow looks like. I consider that my only escape might be a crab walk across 15 bodies and then out of the room. I am paralyzed, and may never walk again so the whole crab walk thing is pretty much out.
I cannot move at all and cannot reach my water. Is breathing voluntary or involuntary? If it’s voluntary, I am screwed. I stopped participating in the class 20 minutes ago. Hey, lady! I paid for this frickin class, ok?! You work for me! Stop yelling at everyone and just tell us a story or something. It’s like juice and cracker time, ok?
It is now 165 degrees and moisture is dripping from the ceiling. The towel that I am laying on is no longer providing any wicking or drying properties. It is actually placing additional sweat on me as I touch it. My towel reeks. I cannot identify the smell but no way can it be from me. Did someone spray some stank on my towel or something?
Torture session is over. I wish hateful things upon the instructor. She graciously allows us to stay and ‘cool down’ in the room. It is 175 degrees. Who cools down in 175 degrees? A Komodo Dragon? My wife has left the room. Probably to throw up.
My opportunity to escape has arrived. I roll over to my stomach and press up to my knees. It is warmer as I rise up from ground level – probably by 15 degrees. So let’s conservatively say it’s 190. I muster my final energy and slowly rise. One foot in front of the other. One foot in front of the other. Towards the door. Towards the door.
The temperature in the lobby is 72 degrees. Both nipples stiffen to diamond strength and my penis begins to retract into my abdomen from the 100 degree temp swing. I can once again breathe though so I am pleased. I spot my future ex wife in the lobby. We had such a good thing going but I know that no measure of counseling will be able to unravel the day’s turmoil and mental scaring.
Arrive at Emerald City Smoothie and proceed to order a 32 oz beverage. 402 calories, 0 fat and 14 grams of protein — effectively negating any caloric burn or benefit from the last 90 minutes. I finish it in 3 minutes and spend the next 2 hours writing this memoir.
Create Craigslist ad while burning final 2 grams of protein from Smoothie and before the “shakes” consume my body.
Note to self – check car for missing wet yoga towel in am.
God knows I am not a fan of yoga pants, but I believe the Montana lawmaker who wants to ban them is not referring to men’s yoga pants. He wants to ban the ones he can stop looking at!
“Casablanca” is quite possibly my all-time favorite film with possibly the greatest ending in all flickdom. Saturday Night Live did a very funny “alternate ending.”
This nifty chart come from Yoganonymous.com. I would like to say I am Vinyasa, but I am probably more Kundalini.
Sunday afternoons I attend “Gentle Yoga.” I place the quotation marks around the word gentle in the heading because the latest teacher, Aviv, after successfully auditioning for the class teaching a restorative set of asanas moved into more advanced postures when my fitness club’s group exercise (GX) manager stopped attending. It didn’t matter to the group since all the members who enjoyed the easy-does-it format had left when a rotating set of not-so-gentle yoga teachers filled in while the GX manager searched for a replacement. By the time Aviv showed up the only members that remained where open to a more advance routine.
If Aviv needed to audition for the members it would have been a smashing success. The attendants for what was a modest class size exploded–and the newer students where all female. This shouldn’t be a surprise–this is yoga, remember. But it seemed strange that a new teacher would suddenly draw such a large crowd of students. It became clear just how popular he was when a substitute arrived one Sunday afternoon and some of the students started asking the sub if Aviv was coming back. Geez, it sounded pathetic.
Is Aviv attractive, you might ask. Meh, I would say he has charisma, but looks aren’t his strong suit. Since, generally speaking, a woman seems to to have the ability to see beyond a man’s physical shortcomings and focus more on his sense of humor and and personality, I would imagine it is his charm that pulls them in and keeps them, besides his skill as a teacher. Aviv is very different in method than Amanda and Lee–the first two teachers in this class, since I started. I believed they stayed true to the class’ name. Aviv teaches what I believe to be a straight hatha yoga class.
Keeping the fact that there is not much gentleness in this Gentle Yoga class, I can’t help, but find certain things funny about Aviv’s practice. The only gentle part is his voice. He offers modifications to each asana he leads us in, but so do my other teachers–that is standard operating procedure for a yoga teacher.
I suppress a laugh when he does these advanced postures because I have been taking this class for over two years with teachers who always considered the stiffest, most out-of-shape people first. But not Aviv! He leads us in Hero’s Pose (hard for a few people), to a Hero Pose with a back bend (half the class try and quit), Hero Pose with a complete back bend–head on the mat (only a few can do). Then he pops back up into Hero Pose again and leans
back a little and lifts knees (only a few can do that). Now, he flips his feet over so he is stretching the soles of his feet. (You hear gowns throughout the studio; most people follow him but, like me, they can’t handle the pressure and are leaning forward). Then he moves his arms forward, lifting his feet up and goes into Crane (See Number 8 here!). I am relieved that I am not the only Gentle Yoga student who is laughing at this point. He finishes with touching his head to the floor and shows all of his admiring fans the preparation of a hand-stand inversion. Jolly good for you, Aviv! You can do something the 60 year-old overweight lady next to me cannot!
Before I finish the post, I need to make something crystal clean–just in case the impossible happens and someone besides yours truly reads this and just so happens to go to my health club and is considering going to the Sunday Gentle Yoga class: This is an excellent class! I have progressed enough that I no longer need a beginners class. It’s just that I can’t help laughing at the improper labeling. In fact, I dread the day Aviv leaves and someone takes over who will be more like Amanda and Lee. On that day I just might drop this class and try taking Robert’s ninety-minute Power Yoga class on Monday nights. In the meantime, I’ll continue taking this excellent class and giggle at Aviv’s “Hey, look at me” show.