HEATED Yoga – not for the Perimenopausal
I hoisted my hips up and back for my 419th downward dog during the first 15 minutes of my second-ever heated yoga session. This session was my first ever in Arizona, where the outside temperature was slightly warmer than Satan’s gooch. It was also my first session since making the transition from chilly Lisa to always 10 degrees warmer than those around me Lisa. As sweat dripped into my eyes, I got down to my hands and knees, grabbed my towel, and wondered whatintheverlovingfuck I was doing there.
Oh, yeah! Chris was trying to kill me. I mean, obviously. Why else would he suggest that we go to a HOT YOGA class in July in Phoenix? I made a mental note to check if my life insurance had been increased. I’ve seen enough Dateline episodes to know what that means.
As the rest of the class gracefully swung their left legs forward out of downward dog into a lunge, I wobbly stood while grabbing one of the pillow hooks on the wall next to me to keep from falling. I brought my towel up with me and continued wiping the sweat from my eyes and the rest of my face. I was feeling a little dizzy and really, really sweaty, but I’m Gen-X damn it. I’m not a little bitch. I can do an hour of hot yoga at age 51 and 5/6. I’ve got this!
Then, when the class went down for the 420th downward dog (no marijuana involved), I grabbed my water bottle and towel, left my yoga mat in place, and wobbled out to the A/C.
I was sitting on a bench outside the room with my face buried in my towel when I heard, “Are you OK?” I mopped my face and looked up into the concerned face of Eddie, the owner of the gym.
“Yeah, I’ll be ok. I’m ok. I just can’t do heat at my age. And I take something for my blood sugar, and I’m shaky. I’m gonna get a couple of those candies you have—”
Before I finished my sentence, Eddie was back with two Lifesavers mints, truly earning their name at that moment.
“Thank you! Thank you so much.” I ripped open a mint and shoved it into my mouth. I sat there and let the cold air hit me and the mint melt in my mouth.
“You need anything else?” Eddie asked, looking very concerned.
“No. I’ll be fine. I’ll just sit here and wait for my husband to finish class. I don’t want to disturb his vibe.” I lifted my water bottle to my mouth and took a long, cold drink. I started adding copious amounts of ice to my water when I turned 50 and we moved to Phoenix. This was probably not the best time in my life to move to one of the hottest places in the world, in hindsight, but oh well. You live and learn, right?
“You need me to go get him?” Eddie said, still standing there, making sure I wasn’t going to keel over.
“No. No. Let him finish the class. I’ll be ok here.” I mopped my face again.
“Ok. Let me know if you need anything else. I have to go take my son to basketball but I’ll tell Debbie to check on you.” Eddie gave a little wave and turned to walk toward the front door.
“Oh, sorry! Yes. Go! I’ll be fine!” I felt bad for possibly making Eddie late to basketball with his son.
I sat there, awkwardly, as people came out of spin class and grabbed their things from their lockers. I looked at my phone and texted my friend and neighbor Jennifer, who had been kind enough to close our garage, until the heated yoga class ended and Chris came out, wiping his face. I had already signed up for regular, UNHEATED yoga for the next evening.
