On Monday Tara and I went to a yoga class down the street. Tara, who’s a big yoga practitioner and even does Acro-Yoga, had gone on the first Friday we were here. Then she said the room was quite hot and the teacher was something of a task master, so I had no interest in a Friday class. However, she’d been told that the Monday teacher spoke better English so I figured I try this Monday.
“Hot” was an understatement. While this wasn’t called “Hot Yoga,” the teacher immediately shut all the windows in the fan-less room with no air conditioning. She was cheerful in her greeting and when we started there were 4 students. Later the class number doubled. In the next room loud rock music blared.
The start was fine, but soon I realized that the cycle of downward dog – cobra – warrior pose would just repeat more or less for an hour. Soon I was drenched in sweat and having no fun at all. I thought of just leaving and after 35 or 40 minutes I just stopped and sat with my legs crossed.
I rejoined the participants at the end for the “relaxation” when the quiet New Age music was drowned out by the rock.