Sado Massoyogachism?

Hot Box Yoga? Seriously.... who thinks this is a good idea? What kind of psycho nazis (small n) came up with this as an idea. The Guantanimo people could have learned quite a bit by spending... ohhhh.... I don’t know....90 minutes with the Bik Ram yoga people. Lets take a look at what they tell new students...

This is as friendly as it ever gets. It all deteriorates from there.

But why was I there? Two reasons...Tiemann and Kukla. These people are supposed to be my friends. Tiemann has been a pretentious yoga snob forever. Two years ago for my birthday he bought me and my wife certificates for sessions at Bik-Ram Yoga...trying to help. I did the right thing. I ignored him.... and the certificates... as did my wife.

As you will remmeber I tried boot camp last year and that almost killed me till I stopped around May. Then I stopped every form of exercised and focused on eating and drinking as exercise. My body continued to deteriorate. I would have been fine for that but for Kukla and more specifically his evil daughter Lauren.

Lauren got her dad to try this Bik Ram yoga. He was miserable. He sweated like a pig. He felt like a tired wet noodle. He loved it. Of course he told me all this in the midst of a full holiday of food and alcohol binging and i told him, “Don, I need you to make me do this”. I am... as I have well documented... an idiot.

So I go to hotbox yoga on a Tuesday at 3:00. I showed up at 2:30 and got checked in and was given an orientation which consisted of a 5 minute speech by a 5’3” 105 pound woman who admonished me that i would feel lightheaded and sick. She would not critique my style or form but....she expected that I would commit to staying in the room the entire 90 minutes. I glibly said I would do that....”No Problem” is what I think my exact words were.
Here are some of the rules:

First time students must arrive at least 15 minutes prior to class for orientation - this includes visiting Bikram Yoga students, regardless of previous experience. All other students please arrive prepared for class 10 minutes early to sign in and allow your body to adjust to the heat.

Latecomers will not be admitted into class. No exceptions.
No cell phones or pagers allowed in the yoga room at any time.
No talking in the yoga room.
No shoes in the yoga room.
No gum in the yoga room.
No watches or excessive jewelry in the yoga room.

I changed. I took my mat into the room and placed it in back by the door...as instructed. Everyone was laying on their mats quietly with their heads towards the back of the room (I later learned that this was so the remendous energy in the feet did not effect the insturctor). The instructor (the same lady who oriented me) came in and greeted everyone and then had us stand and started to take us through some standing stress positions.

I bent awkwardly and tried not to watch other people. “Keep you eyes in the mirror and focus” is what she said. I could do almost nothing that even looked close to right. But I tried. I think I was able to go about 30 minutes. I was drenched. Did I mention that room was heated to a comfortable 105 degrees? That did not sound liek that much to me. I was a guy who liked to steam so this could not be a big deal...right? Of course when I steam I have a towel. In vegas I sometimes even have a cold drink... or ice chips... or something. So I am soaked in sweat and trying to breathe through my nose because yogis do not breathe through their mouths evidently.

They also are not supposed to wipe sweat from their body because that is distracting. We ignore the sweat... we do not feel anything. We are centered. We are whole. We are.... full of shit. But I kept trying. They march through standing form s for 45 minutes.... before we move tot he floor and do the rest... for another 45 minutes. Then I started to want to die. Finally I started sitting out some of the forms and just laying on my back. But not just laying on my back. Laying on my back with arms at my side, palms facing upward, heals together, toes pointed out...breathing through my nose. Always breathing through my nose. Savasana. That is what they call the dead man’s pose. And I... I..... am the dead man.

90 Minutes this goes on. Occasionally I rise to try another one of the forms. I fail more often then anything. I sweat. I die. It ends with a minute full full of rapid...rabid breathing in and out, in and out.... until I croak. It ends. I walk out in the hall. It is cool. I begin to breathe again... through my mouth. I am drenched in sweat. My shorts are dranched. My boxers are drenched. I am thrilled to be done. I curse Kukla for bringing me here. I sign up and pay for ten more sessions.
http://www.yogastlouis.com/