My love affair with Bikram yoga, and why I am lucky.

Oh. My. Goodness. Before getting too into this post, I need to rewind to a couple of weeks ago when I was sitting at Carly’s kitchen table and we were having a little chat about yoga. It went something like this:

Me: Man, I really need to get back into yoga.

Carly: Oh my gosh, Kari, you need to try Bikram.

Me: Is that the one where they heat the room to 100+ degrees and you want to kill yourself?

Carly: Um, yes.

Me: No thanks.

Truly, I imagined that I would hate this kind of yoga. Don’t get me wrong — I LOVE yoga, and I am quite open-minded to trying new things, but this just sounded like hell. For me, practicing yoga was a quiet and peaceful experience. Yes, of course it could be a sweaty work-out as well, but the intense heat of Bikram seemed as though it would put a huge dent in the peace of my yoga experience. But, as I am with so many things in life, I was wrong. Boy, oh boy, was I wrong!!!

I don’t quite know how it happened – I was at the rock gym one night, and my friend Carl casually asked me if I wanted to come to a Bikram yoga class with him the following evening. He had just started done his first class, and thought that I might be into it. I had an evening run planned, but for reasons that I still can’t explain, even despite my distaste for the idea of an overheated room in which I was to do a rigorous 90 minute yoga practice, I decided I would check it out. Now, let me just say that I have had no interest whatsoever in trying this form of yoga since the day I first heard about it. I have had 2 close friends become increasingly involved in Bikram and have still had no interest. And then, for some unknown reason, when Carl asked me at the gym that night, Bikram sounded oddly appealing. It’s like when you notice that you are attracted to a guy for the first time, even though you’ve known him forever and had theretofore had found him repulsive, that’s what happened to me in the gym that night. Some kind of tiny light went on in my brain, and I thought, “Hey, I feel like I could use a little sweat in my life.” And, that was the immediate end of my pre-Bikram life.

The next evening, as planned, I met my friends at the yoga studio and did my first Bikram class. And, that was it. I mean, really, that was it. It was possibly the most challenging and intense 90 minutes of my entire life. It took every ounce of mental strength I had not to flip the teacher off and tell everyone to go fuck themselves and walk out of that god forsakenly hot room. Oh, my, god, was it hot. Think of the hottest summer day you have ever experienced, then condense it into a 4th floor room in center city Philadelphia, and then crowd it with something like 30 people, and then close all the windows, and then DO YOGA IN IT. Seriously. This is what Bikram is like. And for some reason, after the class was over, I could not stop thinking about it. I felt energized. Positive, even. De-toxified. I needed more! Don’t you love it when you become addicted to things that are actually good for you?

Like any good junkie, I was back for more two days later, and then two days again after that. I am honestly ready to sell my soul to this form of yoga.

So what the fuck happens to me in that room?! Too much to explain. But I do know that, with every session, I prove so many incredible things to myself. While sitting/standing/bending/laying in that pool of my own salty goo, I prove that I am able to push myself to limits I had no idea I could reach. I prove to myself that I can breathe and be strong for an entire 90 minute period. I prove to myself that I can overcome physical discomfort, and rely on my mental strength to keep me productive. I prove to myself that I can, likewise, overcome mental discomfort and rely only on my physical strength to keep me productive. I release so much badness and receive only goodness in its place. Oh, man, what a room!

When I really feel like I’m going to fall over, I remember how lucky I am to have a healthy body that is able to push itself to these limits. Many people out there are not this lucky. I think of my dad when he was the sickest: stuck in a bed for months, unable even to do simple tasks such as brush his own teeth or roll his own body over to alleviate his bed sores. I think how proud he would be to see me using my body in such a positive way. When I recall this simple thought, I am lucky, I push myself even harder. I sweat a little more, I stand a little taller, and I breathe a whole lot deeper. I. Am. Lucky. It is so easy to forget this very simple fact when you are grieving as hard as I am. So often I forget my self worth, my potential, my strength. I forget the possibilities of my life and my body. Pushing my physical and mental limits reminds me of all of this.

So, this brings me to the quote I uncovered while doing some research on this oddly heavenly yoga:

“What do you prefer: 90 minutes of pain, or 90 years?”

And let me tell you – it is pain.  Sweat dripping out of every pore of your body whilst you are balancing in some insane pose and staring at yourself in a mirror, surrounded by other weirdos doing the same thing. It is an out of body experience. For a moment I forget that the person staring back at me is, well, me! I think “Now, there’s a girl who looks so strong. Look at her balancing in that hot room. Oh, shit, wait… I know that person!” What an exciting thing to be re-introduced to the strongest version of yourself.

Going back to the quote, I do think that this is how pain works. I think you suffer a fixed amount of pain for each hard experience you encounter, and the more pain you can get out now — whether it be in physical or mental form, but it does have to be some balanced composition of both — the less you have left for later. Just to clarify – when I say “physical pain,” I do not mean cutting or harming yourself, I mean pain that is the result of exercise or physical exertion (ie: muscle soreness). I am willing to condense my pain into shorter intervals and leave more space for the sunshine. Bikram yoga helps me use my pain in a productive and satisfying way, a way that does not make me feel like I just wasted the last four days on my bathroom floor crying. My body and mind feel electrified, and I feel empty of build-up.

90 minutes of pain is NOTHING compared to the shit I’ve been feeling without enduring it!