Through days six to twelve, my challenge was simply creating fitness discipline. There was always something I could be doing for work, so I'd always opt for making certain my clients were taken care of before embarking on a trip to the gym. And I think on a subconscious level it was easier to work than to work out.
Day thirteen arrived and I decided to attend an hpf class, hot power fusion yoga. I walked into the studio and introduced myself to the instructor, asking her what I could expect in class and how it varied from the others. She shared with me her philosophy and what made this option stand out from the others. 'It's like a regular hot yoga class, but we move slowly, really feeling our poses and focusing on the breath.' I went in feeling optimistic. As I opened the door the mighty fist of walking from a 68 degree room to one of 108 almost knocked me over. I had taken a hot yoga class before, but this room had visible steam. Even the mirrors had streams of condensation running down from ceiling to floor. After a barely audible 'ah shit' I looked around to see I was the first to arrive and chose a piece of real estate in the front left corner to place my mat. Within the next ten minutes the class was completely full. Everyone had roughly eight inches of space between them. This, I thought, must be a good sign. It's popular so it must really achieve the inner peace the instructor had sold me on only moments earlier. I mean, that must be the case.....right?
We began class. And it is was brutal as the name suggests. After the first ten minutes, my clothes were drenched all the way through and no matter how many times I wiped my face off with the towel, by the time I put it down the sweat was back to dripping in my eyes. The term 'feel the burn' is an understatement. My muscles were on fire mustering the strength to hold the positions. However I noticed that I was going far deeper in the poses than I ever had before. Maybe there really was something to this strange torture I had signed up for...
The instructor's voice was quite soothing. She would walk around the class making adjustments to ensure we had good form and explained what the purpose of each pose was. Different twists massaged different organs, squeezing out toxins with every deep inhale and slow exhale. 'Life is in the breath. Breathe it in deep.' We continued through class, which by the mid point felt like aqua aerobics. Although we were moving slowly, my heart was racing and I had to focus to not lose my breath. I was dripping wet and feeling the weight of my clothes get heavier and heavier as the room got hotter and hotter. Towards the end of the hour, I almost fell flat on my face while attempting my final downward dog. My rubber mat had become a slip and slide and I was courting danger with every move. Finally, this our hands to heart center, eyes closed, and a group namaste, we ended our hour long session in the yoga oven.
I walked out of the studio with a slap of cold air hitting me as my clothes were still dripping on the way to the car. It would typically be at these moments where I'd run into a ex boyfriend or business associate looking like a drenched dog recently pulled from the river. But luck was on my side and I made it home incognito.
Never has a shower felt so good. Never has lunch tasted so good. Never has the couch felt so warm and welcoming. Five large glasses of water and a full stomach brought me back to life. And as traumatic as the experience initially was, my body felt grateful. Any impurity that had been stored in the recesses of my body felt as if they had been purged. It had been a very good day.
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