This summer I took some time off from the fitness regime I started last year. With the long, hot days of summer I just couldn't bear the thought of locking myself away in a gym to run on a treadmill, or even worse, to sit amongst 30 other sweaty gym rats at a 90-minute hot yoga class. Instead I tried to earn my activity points by daily walks, working in the garden, outdoor bootcamp, etc. This is how much things have changed for me...I actually chose to go hiking when we were in Alberta & BC this summer. Yup - I'm a certifiable move it or lose it kinda gal these days.
But, the days on the sandbar are getting shorter. And wetter. And windier. With the coming of fall and the beginning of my teaching contract I don't have as much leisure time to slot my activities in whenever I feel like it, so I thought it best to get back into some sort of fitness routine. I've returned to the gym and starting last week to my Monday Night Sweat-a-Thon - Hot Yoga.
If you've never taken a hot yoga class, or a Bikram's class let me tell you what you're missing. Typically the classes are 90-minutes long. The yoga studio is dimly lit and intensely hot. So hot that the thermostat reads 105-degrees (f). There's typically a fan blowing the hot air around the room and, in the case of the classes I take on the sandbar, about 30 other like-minded individuals in varying degrees of dress and undress spread on their mats about the room. The less you wear, the less you suffocate. The more you wear, the more you sweat. A case can be made for either side. I choose to dress somewhere in the middle - enough clothing to cover up all the jiggly bits and not so much that I die of asphyxiation.
So, last Monday, there I was kitted out in my bike shorts and tank top, lying prone on my neon green yoga mat trying to calm the voices in my head and clear away the day...breathing in...and...out...in...and...out...when I heard the creak of the studio door, felt the cool breeze of fresh air rushing into the room and with it, the smell of a newcomer.
He smelled like old socks. Old socks that had been left in a hockey bag to ferment over the winter. Old socks in a hockey bag that had first been rolled in poop.
Guess where he chose to roll out his mat?
That's correct...right behind mine.
To add insult to injury (and let me tell you, I was injured after spending 90-minutes inhaling hot, sweaty and STINKY air) I managed to catch a glimpse of the offending yogi whilst twisted into a "happy baby" pose. The guy with the big stink? He was one of my former students.
So yeah, hot, tortuous class, coupled with overly ripe former student who was mostly nekked.
Can't wait for tonight's class!
