In my current quest to find relaxation, peace, and maybe a little physical improvement, I bought the
Groupon last week that offered five classes at the hot yoga place in my neighborhood. It was a sign, I thought. It was inexpensive, it had a schedule that corresponded with mine, and the 95 degree heated room would surely rid me of both the physical and emotional toxins I'd been holding in for so long.
I went this week.
It's been years since I let go of my semi-regular yoga practice and I'd forgotten a few things. First, the sound effects. Yoga enthusiasts are notorious for really being able to let it all out. And let it out they did. The moaning was reminiscent of a low-budget porn flick, but I'm not complaining. Matter of fact, the simple act of associating myself with such uninhibited souls made me feel less inhibited myself. I didn't moan per se, but I OM'd like it was my job and felt great being so, I don't know... out?
I'd also forgotten how HOT hot yoga is. I was literally sweating to my core which is the point. Since I love heat and sweat (totally weird, I know), this worked for me. I measured my success not by how many downward facing dogs I could get through, but by how quickly the sweat poured off my whole self. I'm weird, yes.
Yoga. Is. Hard. It's not like the olden days where they'd light some incense, we'd breathe heavily, stretch our bodies a bit, head into savasana and go out for sushi. The practice I partook in was power Vinyasa yoga, and it's fast, and touches on what feels today like every muscle group, and is HOT. Oh, how I loved that heat.
At the end of the 90 minutes, my body felt softer. And I don't mean to the touch (I need no more "softness" to this bod these days). I mean, my muscles felt looser, my face less tight, my whole self was just more relaxed.
Until I got home, that is, and found my little angels fighting.
Can't wait to go back.