Hot Yoga. It's not cool

Amara picked me up for hot yoga today. I was a bit anxious about it this week, not sure what to expect. "Don't worry," she told me. "You can do Pilates, you'll be fine." I am an awesome Pilaterina (I made that word up, I don't think there is a noun to describe a person who practices Pilates and I thought it fit, given its similarity to dancer conditioning exercises). I have the strength, flexibility and stamina to get through every class with flair. I felt a little more reassured, but I was still uncertain about the heat aspect.

We arrive at the studio, I sign the waiver stating that in my opinion I will not die in this class. I pay the fee, grab a mat and we wait for class to start.

When we first step into the room it is uncomfortably warm. I notice there is a definite smell, although not one that I expected. I later decide to describe it as akin to sticking your nose into a warm chunk of corn bread.

The instructor comes in, closes the door and turns on the heaters. We begin. For our first breathing poses we can inhale through the nose and exhale through the mouth. After that pose however it is all nose work. We are also instructed not to drink any water or wipe off any sweat during the first set of poses. The room heats up quickly and I soon find that the nose breathing goes right against my Pilates instincts of breathing deeply through the nose and mouth. There is a bit of a suffocating sensation.

The room really starts to get warm. The first set of poses after breathing are all standing up. We have the option at any time to lie down and rest, but I'm pretty stubborn in that I will always push through things. I will be completely honest, my form sucked. Arms were supposed to be straight, legs locked, etc. I mostly just aimed for the spirit of the pose.

I think the first time I looked at my watch we were only a half hour into the class. At this point the room was definitely hot. If you are trying to imagine the heat, don't think of a sauna or a really hot day. You know how the Humane Societies get really mad at people who leave their dogs in cars in the summer with the window only open a tiny crack? Every summer dogs die that way because they are covered in fur and those cars get ridiculoulsy hot fast. I felt like one of those dogs. But there was no window open even a crack. It was just stagnant corn bread smelling hot air and there I was trying to balance on one foot while extending my opposite arm. My favourite poses were the ones where we got to bend down because the air felt actually three degrees cooler down there.

Eventually we get through the upright poses and move to the mat work. After every set of these poses we get to "turn around and lie down". These moments were as sweet as cool mountain rain. As I lay there, I think to myself, "some people have the luxury of dying in a pool of their own warm sticky blood. I will die here in a pool of my own warm sticky sweat, and the sweat of others who have been here before me."

Finally, the instructor informs us that it is time for our cool down breathing. She turns the heaters off. We breath through our mouths again--air never tasted so sweet on my tongue. Then she tells us to "turn around, lie down" and she turns off the lights. She tells us nice things and thanks us for working so hard. She tells us to relax and let our bodies take a rest, because it needs it. The temperature is probably a cool 32 C now and it feels like an ocean breeze.

I don't think I really enjoyed any minute of that activity although I do appreciate that all that sweating is good for the body. Amara tries to encourage me by telling me that it seemed hotter this time than usual. I ponder this as we walk back to the truck because there will be a next for me. I paid for two classes. I can't give up now, can I?