Hot Yoga: "So this is what hell must be like!"

My friend sent me a text message today: "Hot yoga $8 @ Yoga to the People 5pm anyone in?"

I've been attending yoga classes once-twice a week for the past few years now. I don't practice when i'm not attending a class, and sometimes there's been a month in between classes. Right now I go to a Hatha class on Mondays and an intermediate Vinyassa class on Wednesdays. Since everyone and their sister seems to be getting certified as a yoga instructor, I was asking around about how to go about doing that. Yoga has helped me with tension and pain issues immensely, and I wanted to help others utilize the techniques, plus I thought it might be a nice job. I realized pretty quickly that's the wrong way to look at it.

I asked my main yoga instructor, who i've been practicing with for 4+ years, how to get certified. she said that the best thing to do is take classes at different places and deepen your practice. Of course, that makes perfect sense. Don't just jump into "getting certified." Of course. So because i'm now committed to going to new classes and tying out different practices, and because i'd always been curious about the Hot Yoga experience, I said yes.

I'd heard about exactly how hot the rooms are: 105 degrees Farenheit. I'd been in 105 degree weather before. heat index 110, even. Georgia in the summer, running across the in the Wal-Mart parking lot to the car in the stagnant air, sitting in there with the windows rolled up in just that second after I closed the door behind me, just before the car started, just before the air conditioning became cool. That was 105 degree weather. But that experience lasted seldom more than a minute or two. Not 90 minutes, the length of a Hot Yoga class. 

I'd heard many stories about people passing out, getting nauseous, and sustaining injuries during Bikram/hot yoga classes. But i hadn't actually met any of those people. As far as the injuries, (not knowing anything about them really) my best theory was that because of the hot temperature, perhaps people's muscles felt artificially warm. They believed they were "warmed up" and ready to push their bodies to the limit. Then some certain something just snapped or popped as they exceeded the ability of their muscles. So I knew to take all this into consideration before going to the class.

I got there a half hour early. It was cold outside but pleasant inside the studio reception area. I had mentally prepared myelf, as best I could, for the heat. We were asked to stay in the room the entire time, even if we became unable to continue moving along with the class. I was told I needed a full-length towel, and i'd only brought one for my hands, so they rented me one. $2, I found out later. They wouldn't discuss money until after class. Ok.

I changed, took my shoes off, and started toward the studio. My foot recoiled, even before its full weight felt the ground, as it sensed the strange material that suddenly covered the floor. It felt like some kind of wet material or moss, something that I didn't expect to encounter indoors. What was this strange stuff? I looked down and saw what looked like cork, had the pattern of parquet cork, but it didn't feel like cork. it turned out to be super-low-pile, dense, standing-on-its-ends synthetic carpet with a cork pattern. Hmm. It made the darkened room even more intriguing. It was like walking on moss in a dimly-lit bathhouse. There was a mirrored wall on one side, and a wall of cedar planks on the other. A few other people had already arrived and were preparing themselves for the class, lying on their backs or sitting. I thought it would have made a very nice dry sauna. I rolled out my mat, placed the towels over it, and lay down just to get myself accustomed to the heat of the room. 

After about a minute, my cheeks started to feel hot. Like they were considering whether to allow the sweat glands to leap into action but were in the painful, stinging throes of deciding whether or not it was time. They held out. 

My friend arrived. We had to whisper in the room. There was no talking allowed during the class or at all in the studio.

I stood with the rest when the instructor came in and said it was time. 

She told the newcomers to move to the 2nd and 3rd rows so they could watch, since nothing was going to be explained. Rest if you need to, you're not required to do every pose. We only ask that you stay in the room, even if you are unable to continue practicing. Also please do not drink anything for the first 25 minutes of class. I will let you know when it's ok to drink. 

the sweat, when it came, was a welcome but brief respite from the heat. but then the sweat heated up to the same temperature of the air, and wasn't of much use anymore.

Ironically, swift movement was the only thing that could produce a moment of coolness after the sweat had warmed, so the Warrior One lunge gave some fleeting, unexpected relief. 

I thought about Siberia. about Eskimos in igloos, about Georgia in the summer. Which would be worse--in prison: To be exposed to extreme heat, like this, or extreme cold, like Siberia? I decided this would be worse. at least when you're about to freeze to death you feel very warm for a little while. "This is what hell must be like," I thought. 

I would describe her more as a hot yoga coach than an instructor. Mostly because of the authoritative tone in her voice, the shouting that it was time to change poses. i felt like we were in a very hot, very weird gymnastics class. 

Some memorable quotes:

"This position is going to hurt like hell, but it will only be for 15 seconds." 

"You can suffer for 90 years, or 90 minutes."

"Stretch to the side, reach over even farther than you can!" 

"Push yourself! Our bodies are more flexible than we're willing to realize!"
"If this feels painful, that means you're doing it right."

"Exhale until you feel like you're going to pass out."

"If you feel nauseous or dizzy that's normal."
[to someone in the corner:] "What? What did you say" Are you talking to me? No talking in class."

So I realized that my old theory about why injuries occurred in Hot Yoga classes may have been incorrect. It seemed now that injuries might be largely attributable to the aggressive encouragement of the Hot Yoga coach to push one's body beyond its limits.

They yoga I am used to (Hatha, Vinyasa) has the opposite philosophy:

"Come only as far as you can come for today." 

"Don't push yourself farther than you can comfortably go."

"Stop if it hurts."

"There's a difference between feeling an intense sensation and feeling pain. Know the difference, stop at pain." "There are things that will feel intense and uncomfortable, but nothing should ever cause you pain."

 I couldn't stop thinking about how opposite this practice was to the one i was used to. 

But back to the Hot Yoga.

"Look yourself in the eye in the mirror" was a common command. Look yourself in the eye as you hold this pose. All i could see was that my face was very red and my eyes, filled with sweat, were also very red and squinty. My bangs were matted against my forehead. i went to move them back so those few strands wouldn't contribute to my sweltering. The teacher projected "Don't adjust your clothing, don't adjust your hair. No one is looking at you. You are fine just the way you are" Ok, but that's not what i was worried about.

"This is what hell must be like," I thought again. Just hot, all the time, no chance at a breeze, and someone forcefully commanding you to get into painful positions, all without rest or water.

About 20 minutes into the class, trying to push my face into my uplifted shoulder, i strained my neck. I could feel it, two little tendons that were very upset. I went into child's pose, as I had always been instructed to do when something in class got too difficult. The yoga coach came up behind me, said "come out of child's pose, sit with your face to the mirror, feet to the cedar." Well, excuse me. I did some neck stretches to try to restore what had been disturbed while the rest of the class went through the second set of the exercise.

There were a few moments, beautiful moments, where we all glistened together in the lights like an ad for a fitness spa,  beads and rivers of sweat pouring over the rippling muscles of those who possessed them. But other than that, there was just Intensity and Endurance. There is a room full of people, sweating in the heat with you, but there's only you really, you are always alone, here in your own private hell. It doesn't help to know you're surrounded by others who are working just as hard as you, just as miserable as you. All you can think about is the heat surrounding your own body, and that the movement of those other bodies is contributing to that heat. At times I thought I could cry because of the overwhelming brutality of the temperature. It was literally all I could think about, other than making an effort not to overextend myself despite the yoga coach's aggressive encouragement. This is the only good thing i have to say about the extreme heat: in a strange way, it focused me. I have a hard time focusing on yoga exclusively during regular classes. It's rare that I can really let my thoughts go, stop examining my toenails every time i fold over my legs, and get whatever song out of my head. Here, the only thing in my mind was this heat. It made me realize the value of a Native American sweat lodge. But they don't do aerobics in there.

The room smelled like sweat. After the class there was silence, resting. Outside the room was blessed coolness. After rinsing off and changing clothes, I went to the counter to pay. The yoga coach kept trying to charge me for "class, towel, water, mat?" No, I just had the class and a towel. This is my own mat and my own steel water bottle. $10. She showed me a class fee schedule and different packages. I told her I wasn't going to be buying any packages. She asked how i liked the class. I told her i thought it was what hell must be like. I think she was a little offended. She said, "You know what I think hell is? It's going through your life without realizing who you are or what you want..." etc. I said yes, of course, I agree. And that i was sure it had great health benefits and that it was wonderful for some people, but it just wasn't for me. A 65-year-old woman came up to the counter. She said it was her 59th consecutive day of hot yoga. She'd been hit by a car last year and wanted to rehab her knees. She said it had worked wonders. I'm really happy for her.

I think this kind of regimen is a good fit for people who are looking for an extreme fitness experience, or who want an intense physical therapy regimen. But it seems so far from the philosophy of yoga as I understand it that I wish they wouldn't call it that. I can see myself going back again, maybe once, once a month at most, but only because my friend got a package with free passes.