So..I got a Groupon.
I have way too many stories that start with that sentence. Too often they turn out horrible. In one case ending with slightly disfiguring injury but that’s another story.
I parked my car just in time to see a young, lithe blond girl with her yoga mat enter the facility and had that moment of panic that I get every time I start a new exercise class.
Fuckity fuck. I am going to be the oldest and the fattest girl in there.
Then I reminded myself that I ALWAYS think that and that I’m NEVER right and besides, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I show up.
Turns out, it wasn’t an irrational fear this time. I was by far and away the largest and oldest girl in the class. There was ONE old guy. By ‘old’, I mean he was my age. He just wasn’t aging as well as I am.
Here are the initial mistakes I made:
I did not bring a towel. This was a fairly significant mistake as the room was heated to a zillion degrees and I was sweating like a wildebeest before the class even started.
I put my hair in a ponytail at the crown of my head instead of the nape. So…coming out of many of the poses, my pony tail was flipped over the top of my head and into my face. I looked like cousin It’s balding cousin.
I took an intermediate class when I am clearly NOT intermediate.
I took a hot yoga class.
We started the class by clearing our minds and deciding what we were going to dedicate our practice to. Would it be a loved one? Peace? Contentment? I dedicated last night’s practice to my left ass cheek. I am pretty sure it did not appreciate it and worked against me for most of the class. The right one was in cahoots.
I could do around 60% of the poses and probably less than half of those had proper form. I got downward facing dog. I can do that one. I was in the pose and the shadow on the yoga mat looked like I had no neck. I immediately heard my husband talking in his Jabba The Hut voice and I started to snicker which made me choke on the sweat that was running down my face and into my mouth.
She would get into a pose and then say “Another option, is to…” And that was always my option. Even some of the ‘easy’ options were out of my reach, so instead, I would just watch through a stream of sweat which is an interesting effect, but it burns a bit.
If you can, raise both hands and feet from your yoga mat and defy gravity by hovering over your mat for three breaths. Now, flip, still hovering, and hold that back bend for another three breaths.
I took that to mean: Count the number of sweat drops on your mat while guzzling water and stare at the other people in the class without really staring.
The class was 75 minutes long. I made it for 57 minutes. I was GOING to just sit quietly and sweat until the class was over, but I realized that even sitting there, that swimmy, light headed feeling wasn’t going away, so I quietly rolled up my mat and left the room.
I have never appreciated air conditioning more than I did the moment I hit the lobby.
I sat in one of their chairs, unabashedly sweating on their upholstery, when the door opened and the old guy came out. He looked at me and said ” Holy shit, I’m glad you walked out. I was too afraid to leave”.
Yeah, I’m a bad ass like that.
I’m going to go back because I’m stubborn and I paid for it. I think I’ll stick with the beginner, NON heated class. At least for a few weeks.
Then I’m going to take my sweating like a wildebeest, Jabba The Hut self back to that class and make it through the whole 75 minutes.
I’m going to bring a towel.