Bikram Yoga Bowie MD
Temple Hills, MD
Iyengar, Integrative Yoga, Ayurveda Well
Hatha, Restorative, Gentle, All Level
Vinyasa, Restorative, Power/YRG, Pilates
Yoga, Yeast Syndrome, Women's Health, Wellness Training, Weight Management, Therapeutic Touch, Supplements, Student, Stress Management, Spiritual Attunement, Research, Reiki, Psychotherapy, Psychosomatic Medicine, Psychiatry, Preventive Medicine, Pain Management, Oncology, Nutrition, Mind/Body Medicine, Metabolic Medicine, Meditation, Massage Therapy, Internal Medicine, Hypnosis/Hypnotherapy, Homeopathy, Herbal Medicine, Healthy Aging, Healing Touch, Gynecology, Guided Imagery, Geriatrics, Gener
American Holistic Medical Association
Kripalu, Integral, Anusara-Inspired, Hatha
Hatha, Anusara, Vinyasa
By Jay Clark
Hot Yoga came into my life when I was searching for balance. I had exhausted my body from overexercise; every day I lifted weights, ran 6 miles, and erupted into random sequences of Tae Bo, when I should have been relaxing more. I needed a change in routine. I needed to sweat out some of my obsessive-compulsive personality.
So I packed my towel and lightweight clothing for a trip to the yoga studio. At the studio’s recommendation, I tried not eating anything beforehand, but en route my car veered uncontrollably into a gas station and left an empty bag of Twizzlers in its wake. Not to worry—Hot Yoga promised to rid me of any toxins resulting from my bad dietary decisions.
I entered the 105-degree room and found a spot in the corner for the 90-minute session. I took out my towel and immediately noticed it didn’t cover my mat completely. I shrugged, thinking it wouldn’t matter. But then the drip-fest began. Buckets of sweat poured down me, and my body and mat became perilously slippery. The annoying guy next to me had enough towel surface area to woo Princess Jasmine, and in comparison, my bathroom’s best looked like a doormat. To distract myself from towel envy, I focused on finding my center instead. I tried to soar, like a majestically sweaty eagle, to a place where I could forget my surroundings. Unfortunately, the loud “plops” of perspiration pouring from my neighboring downward doggers brought me back to reality. And that reality contained a metallic ceiling lined with furnaces above me. And the soggy butt of the person in front of me.
We launched into a series of harder poses. The instructor encouraged participants who were dizzy to sit down if necessary. Of course, as a dedicated type A personality, I recognized this as an opportunity to compete. Despite my light-headedness and the gooey red licorice sloshing in my stomach, I refused to take sit-down breaks like the people around me. This competitiveness fueled me through the rest of the session.
Afterward, I wasn’t proud I had resorted to exactly the type of unhealthy, obsessive behavior I was trying to moderate in the first place. But competitiveness aside, I discovered Hot Yoga wasn’t for me—though it did give me enough peace of mind to figure that out. I would have to find my balance and restoration elsewhere.
Author: Jay Clark
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