A cool breeze blows off the ocean and onto 2nd
street in Santa Monica, California. The street fits the new age, organic,
healthy-crazed, tree-hugging, detoxing, chakra-aligning stereotype to a
tee. As I walk I notice it is
dotted with a wide variety of hipster-esque businesses including Nektar Juice
(a juice bar and cleanse company), Santa Monica Power Yoga (a nationally
renowned power yoga studio), and True Food Kitchen (a restaurant that features
vegan, gluten-Free, and organic food options). Women wear the latest Lululemon Wunder Unders and walk up
and down the street casually sipping their organic green juices. Men sporting long dreadlocks hold yoga
mats under their heavily tattooed arms and a homeless man on the corner of 2nd
and Santa Monica leans lazily against a building, playing his guitar. In the midst of all this is a small
yoga studio called Hot 8 Yoga. It
is my destination. Above the
entrance to Hot 8 Yoga is a large blue banner that reads “Voted #1 Yoga Studio
in LA.”
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| Hot8Yoga in Santa Monica, California (photo via hot8yoga.com) |
I’ve never been one particularly attracted to the idea of
yoga. The classes moved too
slowly. The studios smelled like
sweaty feet. I was always too
inflexible to perform any of the advanced poses. And once I’d ended positioning my mat next to a girl who
didn’t shave her armpits. I didn’t love the whole yoga concept.
Running had been my love, my obsession, and my therapy for
the past two years. It
strengthened my body and my mind as I progressed from not being able to
complete one mile to finishing three half marathons. So when I injured my knee at the beginning of the year, I
was less than thrilled. I went
through a period of denial (trying to run through my pain), anger (ripping all
of my race bibs from my walls and vowing to quit running forever), depression
(ceasing all physical activity and spending hours lying in bed watching all six
seasons of Gossip Girl), and finally acceptance, when I decided to look at my
injury as an opportunity to immerse myself in a new form of exercise. The exercise that I chose was Hot Yoga.
When first exploring the idea of Hot Yoga, I decided to
speak with Alex Martin, a former ballerina who has been practicing Hot Yoga for
years. She explained to me how Hot
Yoga has been vital to healing her body and keeping her in shape after years of
competitive ballet dancing.
“When I had to stop ballet due to my Achilles tendinitis,
yoga practice, especially hot yoga was one of the only forms of exercise I
could do without feeling pain in my ankle. The continuous flow of movement in the hot room made all my
muscles and ligaments feel both loose and engaged at the same time,” Alex
reminisces. “Hot yoga has been an
essential part of both healing my injuries while maintaining an active and
healthy lifestyle.”
When most people refer to Hot Yoga, they are actually
talking about Bikram Yoga. Bikram
Yoga, however, is actually a specific type of Hot Yoga that was created by
Bikram Choudhury. It consists of a
26 posture sequence as well as 2 breathing exercises. All Bikram classes follow this exact sequence, they are 90
minutes long, and take place in a room that is heated to a temperature of 105
degrees with 40% humidity.
The Hot Yoga that I planned on practicing, however, was not
Bikram Yoga. The word “Bikram” has
been trademarked and all studios that want to offer those classes must go
through a specific training program through the Bikram Yoga College of
India. Hot 8 Yoga does not offer
any Bikram classes, but the class that I picked seemed pretty similar to the
classes offered at Bikram Studios.
It was called “Hot Yoga” and was recommended by the front desk staff as
a great beginner course. The Hot 8
Yoga website describes it as, “a series of 28 static postures that was
extracted from Patanjali’s 84 postures (as was the ‘Bikram’ yoga series).”
As I made my way up the eclectic 2nd
street towards Hot 8 Yoga for my first class, I was pretty damn cocky. I had run through 100-degree heat in the middle of summer in the San
Fernando Valley, so a yoga class would be a piece of cake. When I walk into Hot 8 Yoga, the first
thing I notice is the “diverse” group of “characters” congregated near the
front desk. There is a young man,
presumably in his mid-twenties, sitting behind a computer, checking people
in. He is shirtless and has long
brown hair that falls slightly above his collarbones. The woman who stands in front of me is tall and thin
(emaciated even). She has
dreadlocks that are pulled back into a messy bun at the base of her neck and
she wears a tight green tank top paired with baggy grey pants that fall just
above her ankles.
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| Hot8Yoga Front Desk (photo via hot8yoga.com) |
I purchase a beginner’s package
($45 for a month of unlimited yoga), sign in, and begin preparing myself for my
first class, trying to look like I know what I’m doing. Originally, I was planning on wearing
black leggings and a tank top, but when I see a group of students emerge from
one of the classrooms, their faces bright red and their bodies covered in a
thick layer of sweat, I decide I should opt for as little clothes as possible. A sports bra and spandex it is.
I’ve arrived for class about
fifteen minutes early so I kill time in the lobby and decide to strike up a
conversation with a young woman sitting next to me. She tells me that she is part of the teacher-training
program at Hot 8 Yoga and has just come from the beach where she meditated
during her break in the day. She
welcomes me to the studio and tells me I’m going to love it.
Earlier in the week I spoke with
Sine Lopez, a senior sociology major at Loyola Marymount University, about her
experience with Hot Yoga. Sine has
been regularly attending Bikram Yoga classes for over a year and began her
consistent practice with a 30-day challenge during which she attended a Bikram
Yoga class for thirty days straight.
Since then she has regularly continued her practice and has fallen in
love with it.
“I went once during my sophomore
year and it was awful. I didn’t
return for over six months until I decided to do the 30-day challenge. It was tough at first, but as you keep
going back, your body gets used to the heat and starts craving it,” Sine
explains. “Now hot yoga has become
an integral part of my life that keeps me active, but also provides time out of
my daily life to de-stress. That’s
what is so unique about it as opposed to other forms of exercise.”
I remember the praise that Sine
has for Hot Yoga as I prepare for my class. When I enter the classroom, the first thing I notice is the
heat (duh, it’s hot yoga). But
this is a type of heat I’ve never experienced in my life. It sticks to you, finding every inch of
your body and engulfing it with an intensity that is practically
indescribable. I turn my head to
casually look at the thermostat in the right-hand corner of the room. 105. Dear God. Maybe
this isn’t going to be the cakewalk that I thought it would be. I glance around the room to see how my
fellow yogis are preparing for class.
It’s approximately 6:10, 5 minutes before class is scheduled to begin. There are around ten to fifteen people
lying with their eyes closed and backs flat on their yoga mats. It seems like the calm before the
storm.
After positioning my mat
strategically near the door (exit strategy is key), I prepare myself mentally
for the class. I’ve drank about
fifty ounces of water in the two hours leading up to the class in order to
avoid dehydration. I have two
large water bottles sitting next to my mat, along with a complimentary moist,
chilled towel in case I begin to overheat. I tell myself that I will make it through this class and my
body will thank me for it.
When the teacher finally enters,
my heart begins racing and adrenaline pumps through my body. She asks the class if there are any
first-timers and I sheepishly raise my hand, looking around the room to see if I’m
the only hot yoga virgin. I spot a
girl in the first row who also has her hand up. She looks at me and smiles and suddenly I realize we are
taking this journey in solidarity, sharing the anticipation and fear that comes
with all new experiences. The
teacher continues talking and advises us to take as many breaks as we
need. She explains that the heat
is intense (uh, duh) and that our goal for the class should just be to stay in
the room because leaving and entering is harder on our body than simply remaining
in the heat (I have my doubts about that, but try my best to trust her).
I know that yoga is not about
competition. In fact, it’s the
opposite of competition. You’re
not supposed to compare yourself to anyone else. You’re not trying to be “good” at poses. It’s simply about being present and
accepting what you can do with your own body. However, I’m an athlete and competition is what keeps me
motivated. Competition with myself
and with others. So I knew damn
well that I wasn’t leaving that class unless my fellow hot yoga-virgin was leaving
too.
Finally, the class begins. We start with some breathing exercises
and then move into the asanas (or poses).
Most of the poses we do are held for either 30 or 60 seconds and we
repeat them two times. Within
about three minutes of beginning the sequence, I am dripping sweat. As I bend over into a forward fold, I
see large beads of sweat emerging from my shins and dripping down my legs onto
my feet. I have strategically
placed a large turquoise towel over my mat to soak up any perspiration and it
soon turns darker in color as it absorbs the copious amounts of sweat dripping
from my body.
As we move through the first half
of the class I remind myself to breathe deeply and not think too much about the
heat. None of the poses are
particularly challenging on their own, but the 105-degree room makes them
infinitely more difficult. The
teacher keeps an eye on me and the other beginner and gives us tips on our
alignment and breathing. As I pull
myself up into dancer’s pose, (one of the more physically demanding postures in
the sequence, which requires you to balance on one leg while you use the
opposite arm to pull the opposite leg back behind you) I stop and think about
where I am. I watch myself in the
mirror as I pull deeper into the pose, my right leg pulling back into my right
hand towards the wall behind me, and my torso reaching up towards the ceiling
and pulling back towards my right knee.
My gaze is focused and intense as sweat drips down my face and into my
mouth leaving a salty aftertaste.
Wow, I’m pretty badass.
As my confidence grows, so does
the intensity of the class. Though
much of the second half of the class is done on the ground, it seems to be
getting more and more difficult.
I am initially relieved to be lying on my back but soon the heat begins
to really affect me. Beads of
sweat from my forehead drip down my face and into my eyes and I squeeze them
shut as they begin to burn. The
class continues to follow the sequence of holding a pose for about thirty
seconds at a time, then resting and repeating. We reset ourselves by returning to our backs between each
pose, a process that should have been relieving, but instead seemed to make the
experience more difficult. I begin
having the sensation of pins and needles on my face, as if I had either been
injected with a local anesthetic or had one too many drinks on a night
out. As I lie on my back, I open
and close my eyes, tightening the muscles in my face in an effort to regain
feeling in my mouth and cheeks.
Things begin to move in slow motion as I feel my heart beat faster, a
sensation that seems to shake my entire body. I focus on taking deep breaths slowly in through my nose and
out through my mouth in an effort to regain my composure.
I try to distract myself by gazing
around the room to see how everyone else is doing (an action that is generally
discouraged during yoga to avoid comparing yourself with others). My fellow yogis continue their practice
and everyone’s faces are focused and serious. It’s hard to tell if they are simply trying to survive the
class like myself or on the verge of spiritual enlightenment. The man on the mat next to me has long
hair, pulled back into a bun at the base of his neck. He wears tight black shorts and his sweat makes his skin
shine in the dim light of the studio.
He takes deep breaths and moves through his yoga practice effortlessly
as I struggle to take enough oxygen in to refresh my body, repeatedly looking
at the clock on the wall next to see how much longer I have in the class.
The distraction seems to have
worked and I soon realize that we only have five minutes left in the
class. Our teacher prepares us for
shavasana, the final pose in the sequence. Shavasana is also known as corpse
pose because one performs it by lying on the ground like a dead body—on your
back with your arms and legs spread out at 45 degrees and your eyes
closed. It is pose in which you
are supposed to relax and let everything go.
As I lie in shavasana, it is hard
for me to entirely release. I feel
simultaneously ashamed and accomplished.
Ashamed because the class was so incredibly difficult—mentally and
physically. I entirely
underestimated the toll that a hot yoga class would take on my body and my
mind. It took all my determination
and focus to stay in that room for an hour and half (not to mention even
completing the poses). I do, however, feel accomplished. I participated in the entire class,
never leaving the room and only taking a few breaks to rehydrate or regain my
breath and composure (and occasionally feel in my face). I never imagined that a yoga class
could be so incredibly taxing.
Perhaps the most important thing
that I take away from the class was that you should not judge or make
assumptions about something until you try it. I thought a hot yoga class would be a walk in the park
because of my general fitness and athleticism. Never in a million years did I think that a hot yoga class
would be more difficult than doing a ten-mile run or squatting 125 pounds or
even swimming laps at the pool. I
came to my first class thinking hot yoga was for scrawny, vegan hipsters who
didn’t have enough motivation or strength to go for a run or go lift at the
gym. I left my first class
realizing that hot yoga was a physically and mentally demanding practice that
was not for the faint of heart.
I stepped out of my comfort zone
and into the strange, yet somewhat alluring world of hot yoga and learned not
only about the practice, but also about myself. It seems cliché, but you really can’t judge a book by its
cover. It looks like I have a
month of challenging postures, deep breathing, and sweat ahead of me.
