Wednesday, May 01, 2013

The Wrath of Heated Power Vinyassa Yoga

In the last year, my coworker and I have been doing a sort of citywide yoga studio tour. Though we've fallen in love with The Lab, we're continuing to try out others as well.

For the last week, I've been going to yoga studio #5. It's located in Streeterville which is quite convenient to work and the train. The studio is in a nice sunlit and spacious place. Our first class was a Friday evening candlelit vinyassa flow class. Just challenging enough for a Friday night.

Last week, I tried my first heated power vinyassa class. Though the class proved to be challenging and warm, I didn't feel like it defeated me.

Last night, I took the same class again. I was expecting the same experience last last week, hoping to build on poses that proved particularly challenging.

But this practice took a different turn. Instead of on-the-verge-of-uncomfortable warm, the room quickly turned into sauna-like temperatures. The teacher flowed between positions quickly. My mat couldn't keep up with the sweat it was given.

I looked around the room. Everyone was sweating, but no one seemed to be sweating as much as me. I continued through the class as best as I could. As we stood in mountain pose, sweat ran from my temples down my face and off my chin. As we moved into forward fold, the sweat reversed directions. Big drops of sweat plummeted my mat as I rested in downward facing dog. As we caught up with our breath in child's pose, I looked for a place to put the crown of my head that wasn't already soaked.

I stopped frequently to drink water and wipe my face on my shirt. I found myself wondering how running 26 miles was possible for this body but not 70 minutes of heated power vinyasa.

As we moved into balancing poses, I struggled to find a place to place. After all, slip and slides weren't meant to let one defy gravity. I stepped off my mat to see the immediate area wasn't much safer. Now this is just embarrassing.

Class wound down and the teacher thanked us for coming. Another student commented about the warm room. The teacher admitted this wasn't her usual class. In fact, she hadn't taught a heated class in some time. As we walked out of the room, I caught a glimpse of the thermostat. It read 120 degrees.

I rest my case.

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