Power Yo-OH!-ga

Tonight, I attended a yoga class with a couple of friends. I was lead to believe that this would be a 'beginner' class which sounded just fine, given that most of the yoga I've taken has been of the 'prenatal' variety and thus does not make me a master of the sport.

Once I had parked in front of the studio, I decided to finally read the email my friend had sent with instructions for the class: "Wear a tank top because the studio is heated (80 +), bring water and a towel. The class is 1.25 hours". Oh, shit.

Thankfully, I had worn a tank top under my long-sleeved t-shirt, more as a way to cover my too-white spare tire from exposure to the air, and I never travel anywhere without water. But a towel? I searched the minivan and found a small fleece blanket. Fleece is not the best thing to rub on skin to absorb sweat, but beggars can't be choosers.

Once inside the yoga studio, it was quite obvious that this was not a beginner class. Women with big muscle-y arms surrounded me. The room was so hot it was hard to breathe. The teacher spoke in 'yoga-ese'---forget describing every single pose for the newbie---when she said 'warrior', she meant 'warrior', dammit!

I later found out the room was 100 degrees. One hundred degrees. I sweat so much, I thought I'd drown in "Downward Dog" (hey, did you know there is an 'Upward Dog"? Didn't know that until today!). I laughed when the instructor suggested I try to do the "Crow".

Somehow I made it that entire 1.25 hours. My Tom's of Maine deodorant did not. I decided to type this entry tonight, even though it is way past my bedtime, because I am pretty certain that, tomorrow, I will not be able to move my arms.

The next time I find myself in 100 degree heat, I had better be on a beach with a frozen drink in my hand.

Namaste.