Tonight I attended my first Bikram yoga class at a studio in Minneapolis on Lyndale and 28th. I was a little on the fence about "hot yoga." I met someone recently who had taken a class, and she was turned off by what she described as the "boot camp" atmosphere and the constant urgings to "lock your knees!" which she interpreted to be an order to hyperextend--and everyone knows hyperextension is bad, right???
Anyway, there was also the issue of the heat. Various people told me they'd gone to a Bikram class and thought for sure they were going to vomit, pass out or weep uncontrollably, but these were not my chief concerns. Even the prospect of sweating profusely in front of others sounded reasonably okay. My main concern was with the almost-necessity of wearing shorts.
I like my legs fine until they are sticking out of a pair of sporty shorts or encased in tights and little else, a la ballet class. At these times I develop a serious case of body dysmorphic disorder (similar to the eating disorder I develop in crowded cafeterias that drives me to cower in the farthest corner, obsessing about the horrors of eating in public). Would I be able to get over my leg phobia enough to stare into a mirror while balancing on my toes and then squatting obscenely, dripping sweat from my stricken, bright-red face? It turned out the answer was yes.
At first, the level of heat seemed okay. And then suddenly, it was oppressive. I looked around the room, and virtually everyone was dripping just as much sweat as me. Were their faces quite as beet red? Perhaps not. However, virtually everyone was dressed up in little more than underwear. I congratulated myself for squelching my neurotic tendencies and wearing the damn shorts. Anything more covered up would have been excruciating.
I must say, however, that Bikram yoga is not for the scent-sensitive. If you thought the crowd at the 9/11 conspiracy documentary smelled bad, just wait until you shut yourself in a room full of 20 people sweating profusely. You know that embarrassing moment in the conference room at your job when you realize that the scent of last night's gin gimlets or garlic-marinated whatever is filling the entire room? Well, it's like that at a Bikram class, times twenty.
But overall, the class was good! It was definitely super hard. There was a lot of bending backwards, which was tough on my arthritic, 80-year-old neck. But other poses were just the right kind of challenging.
After the class, the instructor loudly congratulated me, and only me, on my "way to hang in there!" performance (I was the only person taking the class for the first time). This was a little embarrassing--I really hate being the center of attention. But it was okay, and a nice, super buff young woman bought me a popsicle and chatted with me for awhile after class.
I also confronted the instructor about the joint "locking" business. "Is the idea that we're supposed to hyperextend?" I asked, suspicious. He insisted that no, of course not, hyperextension can cause injury, etc. "Locking" really means "straightening."
So there you have it: Bikram yoga. Try it if you like intense physical experiences involving heat. Get over yourself and wear shorts. And straighten your knees, don't hyperextend them.
