It’s been well over two years since I’ve worn the label of a Bikram devotee, but yesterday I braced myself for a ‘Return to Form,’ of sorts, and signed up for a 10-day challenge at Bikram’s new Balham Studios.
Easing myself into my first 10am practice, I made sure not to eat any breakfast – lest my half-digested muesli make an unwanted appearance during Trikanasana (Warrior) pose – and arrived early to class so that my body might get used to the 40°C room temperature. It didn’t take long for my mind-memory to click into gear and start internally screaming: “Abort mission, abort mission” but I powered through… not least because the class had yet to even start!
Bikram, or Hot Yoga, is a style of yoga developed in the 1960s by Calcuttan native, Bikram Choudhury. It consists of a series of 26 postures (asanas) that are carried out over 90-minutes in a heated room whilst class members are in silent meditation.
I signed up for my first class about four years ago, while I was still at university. I immediately loved it. Undoubtedly exhausting, Bikram is truly a mind-over-matter endurance sport; and true to form, I became addicted. For more than eighteen-months I practiced between two and three classes a week, partaking in ‘Karma’ Bikram whereby I helped out in the studio and was paid in classes. Then one day I thought, “Enough!” And that was it. I hung up my non-slip mat and didn’t look back.
Until New York.
One of the fabulous people I met while living in NYC was an Aussie jazz singer who had recently taken up The Challenge. She radiated a positive energy and had a body to die for, so once again I took to the studio. Only this time my mind-body-spirit just wasn’t into it. Not even a third of the way through the class I had to pack up mat and towel and escape the oppressive heat. I felt defeated.
So I have to admit that when the flyer came in the mail a few months back to advertise a new studio opening just down the road, I was a little hesitant. If only because I didn’t want to risk being ‘that person’ again, who couldn’t hack the heat!
Easing myself into my first 10am practice, I made sure not to eat any breakfast – lest my half-digested muesli make an unwanted appearance during Trikanasana (Warrior) pose – and arrived early to class so that my body might get used to the 40°C room temperature. It didn’t take long for my mind-memory to click into gear and start internally screaming: “Abort mission, abort mission” but I powered through… not least because the class had yet to even start!
Bikram, or Hot Yoga, is a style of yoga developed in the 1960s by Calcuttan native, Bikram Choudhury. It consists of a series of 26 postures (asanas) that are carried out over 90-minutes in a heated room whilst class members are in silent meditation.
I signed up for my first class about four years ago, while I was still at university. I immediately loved it. Undoubtedly exhausting, Bikram is truly a mind-over-matter endurance sport; and true to form, I became addicted. For more than eighteen-months I practiced between two and three classes a week, partaking in ‘Karma’ Bikram whereby I helped out in the studio and was paid in classes. Then one day I thought, “Enough!” And that was it. I hung up my non-slip mat and didn’t look back.
Until New York.
One of the fabulous people I met while living in NYC was an Aussie jazz singer who had recently taken up The Challenge. She radiated a positive energy and had a body to die for, so once again I took to the studio. Only this time my mind-body-spirit just wasn’t into it. Not even a third of the way through the class I had to pack up mat and towel and escape the oppressive heat. I felt defeated.
So I have to admit that when the flyer came in the mail a few months back to advertise a new studio opening just down the road, I was a little hesitant. If only because I didn’t want to risk being ‘that person’ again, who couldn’t hack the heat!
Luckily my chakras seem to be aligned this time round and I’m pumped about the next eight days. Day One was definitely a challenge but this morning’s class was fantastic. My muscles were strong, my mind focused and the sweat poured out of me in constant streams. To all those who powered through the class with me, “Namasté”
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