Bikram Yoga in NYC

@Bikram Yoga Grand Central

6.30pm - Bikram Yoga with Shorty Shorts guy

In addition to succumbing to Starbucks coffee...not once, not twice, but THREE times in the Big Apple. I also succumbed to the Starbucks of Yoga, Bikram, which is a set series of 26 postures and 2 breathing exercise perfored in a room heated to about 40 degrees Celsius or 105 degrees Farenheit usually smelling of stale sweat. Ewwwwww!  This place was no exception.   So, yes, in addition to succumbing to Starbucks coffee...not once, not twice, but THREE times in the Big Apple. I also succumbed to the Starbucks of Yoga, Bikram, which is a set series of 26 postures and 2 breathing exercise perfored in a room heated to about 40 degrees Celsius or 105 degrees Farenheit usually smelling of stale sweat. Ewwwwww!  This place was no expection.

Just going back a bit.  When I FIRST started my blog, I remember likening yoga to the opposite of McDonald's. Like, no matter where you go in  the world, what day it is, how your body is feeling, a yoga class will ALWAYS be different. Well, l retract that statement. BIkram Yoga is like the McDonald's (or Starbucks) of Yoga. It was a strange sensation to walk into a Bikram studio in New York City and hearing EXACTLY and I mean, EXACTLY, the same type of phrases coming out of the teacher's mouth. Crazy times! LIke, right at the start, teh teacher, I will tell you all about him in a minute, used the exacrt same phrasing at the exact same point in the lesson as my regular class back in good old Jindalee, Queensland, AUstralia. I guess that's the premise of this style though. The same 26 postures, in exactly the same order, using the same phrasing, style of speech etc with very little leeway for creative expression. Hence why I would  be the world's WORST Bikram Yoga teacher ever! Plus, my fear of touching people would be even more insurmountable, cos I would have to touch SWEATY people! Double ewwwwwwwwwwww. I guess that's one reason why people get addicted and keep going back, to Bikram or Maccas. NO no, not the touching sweaty people thing! The familiarity thing. The cookie cutter, fast food approach. I know exactly what's going to happen and when. I might not have control over any other aspect of my life, but at least I know what to expect in a yoga class. I'm not saying it's wrong, hey, i was addicted for a while. I also got addicted to Body Pump, that free wieghts group fitness class at the gym you know? I ended up knowing the routine so well, that I would pre-empt the teacher. I enjoy those type of familiar things, but I know myself, as a teacher, it's not for me. I need my class to be maleable, flexible (both literally and figuratively) and creative. Bikram is none of those things. I still did a class nonetheless. I don't discriminate. If you wanna eat McDonald's, do it, I'll still be your friend.

Teacher:
AH, let's just call him Shorty Shorts. It was a guy, who looked like a freakishly buff 12 year old boy, like the one you see in the Guiness Book of Records, with great hair, what is it with male yoga teachers and great hair? ANnd a nice bod of course, but, oh yes, there's a but, in fact, I could practically see HIS. He was wearing these lairy green and blue, tight, shorty shorts. Like the one you see European men getting around in on those pebble beaches in the south of France? Either that, or gay guys. SO yeah, these teeny, tiny short shorts with a drawstring at the front which was completely UNDONE! ARgh! MY eyes! I honestly didn't know where to look. And I swear to God, if he had coughed, they would be gone. They were so low on his stomach that you could practically see the top of his...ahem...well, yes, let's just say they didn't cover much. Once the shock of the teacher's attire or lack thereof, had waned and I had my mantra set for class: 'only look from the waist up, only look from the waist up, don't make eye contact, don't make eye contact', we were ready to begin. OH but before we began, we had roll call. I KID YOU NOT! Roll call!!!!!!! LIke, he started at the back, probably knew about half of the names, but the rest of us had to say our names and he wrote them on a scrap piece of paper. It seemed very old-fashioned me. Like Bikram is a style that the teacher needs to know your names, because from my experience they mostly stay on the little stage at the front and yell orders. OH yes, they yell. SO un-yoga like don;t you think? BUt, I just thought that seeing as I was in NYC, they would have a better system. My place in Brisbane, which is actually fabulous, Bonfire Yoga, has lovely little plastic name tags that they prepare for you and you place them in front of your mat. That way you have privacy and don't feel like you're at school again. Anyway, it was weird. Then, off we went into the 26 poses. None of which I need to breakdown. They were the same. IT was like a happy meal, but with more sweat and no little plastic toy at the end. Just, the regular cheeseburger, fries and a coke. SAme same.

The funniest part of class, which was a shock, was that shorty shorts man, was really into adjustments. WHich I thought was strange given it was a Bikram class. So yeah, he adjusted me a few times, all the while I had my head turned as far away from his precariously hanging shorty shorts as possible, for fear of making him sneeze.

Finally we reached the end of class, which seemed to take forever, mainly because i was totally clock-watching as i was due at the aiport in an hour. Clearly i had bitten off ,ore than i could chez with trying to squeeze in one last yoga class before flying to Paris. Oops; So after the Kapalati breathing, he said we had time for 5 minutes of Savasana, time my arse...I had a plane to catch. In that moment, I felt like a real New Yorker.  Anyway, I wouldn't normally, but on this occasion, i decided i really needed to leave; So I ever so quietly started getting up and gathering my sweat soaked towel, ready to sneak out. He saw me and made a beeline for me from the other side of the room. He then actually, I kid you not, grabbed my shoulders and was all like, NO, you cant leave! You MUST stay until the end; etc. It freaked me out! Like all of a sudden I was trapped. I'd had my liberties taken away and in that moment, all i wanted to do was run; Then, keeping his hands on my shoulders, began to push me back down to the floor and made me lie down, all the while me saying meekly, I hAve to go, I have a plane to catch! He then SHOOSHED me! I swear to God he did and after that my heart rate went up so quickly. He also started saying, in now a really yoga way, stuff like: you'll make your plane, it will wait for you, just lie down and relax for now. Then he kept masssaging my shoulders really quite hard all the while I was thinking I just wanted to grab his damn little drawstring and pull it as tightly as I could then run away ARGH!!! I couldn't be any LESS relaxed if I tried: Finally, he got up knowing that i wasn't going to leave and he then finished a couple of minutes early because i think he could really sense my panic and i just bailed: Lesson learnt, don't put myself in stressful situations all for this silly blog that no one probably reads! I'm still glad I did Bikram in New York though. It further cements my opinion that it's not really for me. (I'll still go back to Bonfire though because they have the most amazing Power yoga teacher, Steve there: HOwever, I dont think I'll do Bikram again, particularly after learning that my Ayurvedic Dosha is Vatta/Pita meaning, Bikram and other types of high intensity, high heat; high energy exercises are precisely the type of exercises I need to steer away from. It causes me more stress and anxiety than I already need:  That, and I really shouldn't have gone in the first place: Meanwhile, I made my flight to Paris which departed close to 2 hours late. All of that stress for nothing!