Hot Yoga: The Best of Times, The Worst of Times
Listen, I am out of shape. I haven't been in shape for over a year now. I don't really mind. I'm kind of in that skinny-fat area. It's whatever, I've accepted it and moved on with my life. There are more important things than your health, right?
Anyway, this story starts on Saturday night, in the apartment of the guys from 46 [street name removed for anonymity]. Most of the BU crew was there, having a wonderful time before what was sure to be a fun and wild night out. I had decided that I would take a night off for the sake of my bank account.
What's that? It was very responsible of me? Thanks, kind reader, it really was.
At the pre-game, I was conversing with my friend Georgia, AKA G Money, and she asked if I would like to join her at a yoga class in the morning. Intoxication plays a key factor here because my dumb ass said yes. We chatted about how this was part of a free week at CorePower in Boston and that some classes were, in fact, HOT yoga. I'm talking ball-busting 100° heat with 100% humidity. People apparently pass out during the sessions.
Sure, that sounds fun, sign me up!
Now, I know that I said I was staying in that night, but it really did me no good. I ended up having my signature VodWod™and playing Red Dead Redemption 2 (a fantastic game!) until damn near 2:30AM. Just as the night was coming to an end, Italian Brother Matteo came knocking at the door. No, this is not the beginning to a weird, sexual fantasy, he was just here to crush some VodWods™until the sun came up. As 4:30 AM rolled around, we realized that we should go our separate ways and hit the hay.
The next morning, my phone jolted me awake. My dad (Jimbo, Iron Man, Slice, ect.) was calling me for some reason. I thought it was all too early to give a me Sunday phone call. I need my beauty sleep!
As it turns out, it was 1:40 PM and I had missed the morning yoga classes. Bummer.
After talking to G Money, we made plans to go to the 4:00 PM C2 CorePower Yoga session. I was oddly excited. I have long been looking for a way to beat a hangover and figured that I would take my bets with this boujee-ass program.
I met her outside of my apartment and we began to walk over, both nervous for what we had signed up for. As we entered the establishment, it was very clear that I was the only one who had never done yoga before. I showed up in a Nike Air T-Shirt and swishy workout pants. You know the pants, every six year old plays back yard football in them. Everyone else had full yoga clothes on. I was rattled and drastically unprepared for what was about to happen.
Upon entering the room, we noticed that there was a "Quiet please" sign on the door. I only respect "quiet please" signs when they pop up on the jumbotron while Tom Brady is leading the team on offense. My rattled meter was up to about an 8 by this point.
Entering the room was ominous. The room was filled with people that looked like they could be Instagram models, especially the dude in front of me. He was tatted and ripped. I am not tatted and kind of mushy.
We grabbed a spot in the back by the window. The temperature in the room was equivalent of Florida's worst day. It was hot, it was humid, and within two minutes of the class starting, I was shirtless. Again, this is not a good look for me.
The room was dark and there was relaxing music playing as we opened up the beginning part of the class. It was hot, but I figured that I could get through it.
G Money seemed like she was taking it in stride, but from the beginning, I felt as though I was going to die. I was sweating more than I did during the Colombo Workouts (RIP Coach), and I wasn't sure if I was gonna get through it. Over time, it was comforting to give a look to my friend and have her give me the exact same look back, as if to say: oh shit, this is actually really hard.
I was following along to the best of my ability. The only position I really knew was downward facing dog. The instructor had a warm voice, one that commanded trust but brought fear. She was a small woman and was very sweet when we first checked in. I had to look around at every position call-out to make sure I was doing it right.
Within five minutes, my whole body was on fire and I was sweating more than a pig whore in Church on Christmas. My body was trembling and I began to feel the effects of HOT YOGA!
For what seemed like an eternity, I struggled to find the right positions and stretches. It was going okay at best. Our instructor finally allowed us a moment to collect ourselves, wipe down, and take a drink of water. What she said next completely deflated me.
"You can do it, only thirty minutes left!"
THIRTY MINUTES?? I could have sworn that we were already in there an hour. It was awful, but it was peaceful. You get to be alone with your thoughts and the only thing you have to battle is your mind saying, "give up, you fat piece of blob, you can't do this." Peaceful.
The next thirty minutes were way better than the first. It was more focused on the "core" aspect of PowerCore, so basically I was happy because we got to finally sit down.
Next thing I knew, the class was over. G Money displayed a ridiculous amount of flexibility which really made me look bad. No big deal though, I'm totally over it.
Walking out of the building, we decided to get Tasty Burger and completely nullify all the hard work we had just done. It was a great decision.
In all seriousness, I enjoyed the whole experience and felt a lot better about myself. I might not ever go back, but if I do, I know I'll feel good about everything after. Long live hot yoga, baby!
Buy a damn shirt, I have three of them on sale now. Support the cause!
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