Saturday, July 16
I was up early at 6AM for breakfast and excited to take the class at 9AM. The class is in Mahnattan and I live in Brooklyn so…I headed out at 7:30am to make sure I’d arrive by 8:30am to meet my friend Mj, who inspired me to sign up for the month. We wanted plenty of time to get signed in and settled. The MTA, however, had other plans for me! Usually I’m punctual. Painfully so! It really bothers me to be late or pressed for time as rushing makes me itchy.
The class is up at 83rd and 3rd and my apartment is in Crown Heights – so 50 minutes on a good day. Saturday was not a good day for the MTA which lead me to be stuck on the 6 train at 33rd at 8:20am. There was no way the local train would make it in time, and it was being held in the station so, fortunately the train was waiting in the station and not between stations. I jumped out and grabbed a cab.
The taxi driver was very nice but stopped at every yellow light! Dammit. I was going to be late for my first class! Mj texted she was already at the studio waiting on me. I may not make it in time…wondering if it may be worthwhile to contact a lawyer to get a class action lawsuit going against the MTA, maybe? So many people pay $116 for their service and as one of these people have found myself spending extra money on cabs or extra time walking rather than being late to work/dinners/yoga/dates or anywhere else I’ve paid the MTA to take me. I put the cab window down to get some air. It’s over 80 degrees and humid already and not even midday. It’s supposed to go up to well over 90.
Mj texted me that we could move to the later class – not to rush.
I was relieved but now really wanted to get there in time. I’d just spent over $10 on a cab to get me there on time!
The cab pulled up at 8:45AM. I jumped out and ran upstairs.
Mj had already signed us in and we were able to make the 9am class! Shoes off…left in the cubby. I shoved my things in the itty-bitty locker in the tiny-weenie locker room packed full of women, making sure not to forget my bottles of water. MUST have water. The room is hot. 104/105 degrees.
I’ve never done yoga really…I mean I’ve done yoga ala Tony from P90X but never a real yoga class (well aside from the one Yin Yoga class my friend Hillary brought me to while visiting her in Cincinnati, OH, and that class was super relaxing with easy poses and not heated). Oh, and I also took one class while a member of Equinox and really didn’t appreciate the yoga class there…in my mind at the time…kettlebells, speedball, body conditioning was where my interests led me…aggressive and fast paced.
Sadly I left Equinox when I moved to Brooklyn back in 2012, and in Bed Stuy there was no Equinox, plus the boyfriend I moved in with was frugal and this rubbed off on me. This is when P90X came into my life…however reluctant I was to Tony’s “As Seen on TV” approach…this was my first experience actually doing yoga poses consistently…and Tony is to thank for it. I grew to like Tony.
So back to Bikram! I rushed to get there and then we entered the suffocatingly hot studio…that smelled like socks…bleh…feet….gah…and the purple rug was a bit loud.
My friend asked me where we should set up, I figured by the window was the best option, the window signified escape and you could see the street and only somewhat realized the situation I’d just put myself into.
“It’s hot like the desert in here. I hope I don’t freak out,” I mentioned with sweaty concern running down my face.
“Oh, are you going to be alright?” she said, clearly understanding my situation. I’d told her all about the desert. I’ve told everyone. It’s not a big deal to talk about…it’s when I find myself smelling something or doing something that pulls my head back into being there…then it’s a problem. I was once in a super packed and unconditioned Potbelly’s in Chicago’s summer heat and freaked out. Fled without saying a word to my boyfriend who was in line with me. Freaked the fuck out.
How had I not realized this HOT yoga class would test not only my physical condition but also my mental state. My therapist left the country Thursday for his first long vacation and my way of dealing with his absence is to sign up for a month of Bikram yoga? I fully intend to go five days a week.
“Are you just stupid or insane?” I wondered to myself, sipping gingerly from my water bottle, knowing once class starts, there is no leaving and my water needs to last.