Day one of hot yoga month and I’m happy to report that I made it through the hour-long class
without crying. Admittedly, it was touch and go at one point.
I think the instructor was a little worried about me part way in. I’m fair-skinned and I have rosacea, so it doesn’t take much for me to get tomato-faced. The rosacea is one of the reasons I left hot yoga a few years ago. I didn’t like being red-faced for the remainder of the day. Also, according to my dermatologist, heat is a no-no.
In part, I have practical reasons for returning: the studio is close to the gym that my son trains at a few times a week (so I can drop him off and hit a yoga class, instead of swilling coffee in the gallery — another rosacea no-no). Also, the studio is offering a month at $40 — so it’s the least expensive option.
Though the heat started getting to me about 40 minutes into the practice, I loved all the sweating (mine, that is). It made me feel so athletic! And now, three hours after class, I’m noticing that I’m less puffy — my rings are rattling around on my fingers, like they used to about 10 years ago. Ahh age and hormonal shifts…experiences in humility.
And speaking of humility, Maya Georg’s post, “Fear and Loathing on the Yoga Mat” (YOGANONYMOUS) couldn’t have been more timely. If you’ve been reading my blog, you’ll know that today’s practice was my first big class practice in years — I’ve been doing private & semi private practice. In today’s class my plan was to avoid the mirrors — take a spot in the back and be less conspicuous. The problem: back row was already full. So I got a spot smack in front of the mirror.
Georg’s YOGANONYMOUS post talked about, among other things, the ways we sabotage our own and others’ yoga practices by projecting our insecurities onto them. It resonated with me because throughout the class I was distracted by my image in the mirror, making it difficult to stay with my practice.
“Is this a ‘fat mirror’ or are my hips actually this big?”
“Tomorrow I’m coming earlier so that I don’t have to be so close to the mirror!”
“I’ll bet all those young yoga beauties in the back row — positioned on either side of my reflection — picked the back because the perspective gives them a thinner reflection.”
Distracting and damaging to my practice.
Fortunately, I wear glasses and I’m nearly blind without them, so I took them off and was back in the game.
Whatever works, right?