Day 10

I was looking forward to a weekend yoga class. I was also a little apprehensive. I had never taken a class from S. and wondered what he would be like. Harder? Easier? Would the weekend yogis be more advanced? Younger?

I chose to wear all black; it is more slimming and hides sweat better. But as it turns out, it was more fitting for another reason: the Yoga Nazi was teaching. "S. couldn't be here," she explained and after a few groans added, "Always check the website."

The class was crowded. Every inch of space was taken. It only took a few minutes before we were in plank. I tried to use the breath. And I tried.

The Yoga Nazi asked, "Is everyone hot enough?" Then added, "If not, work harder!" She began to tell the story of how her friend was taking the class last week. At lunch her friend ratted on us. "She told me you guys call me the Yoga Nazi," she said. Uh- oh. What revenge awaited us now? "I suppose it's a term of endearment," she said as she proceeded to demonstrate why they call it hot yoga. Yogis were dropping like flies into child's pose. I held on determined to survive whatever punishment she deemed fit. 

But I was losing. The humidifier which amps the sweat factor in "hot" yoga was aimed directly at my face. I turned around several times to see if I could reach the plug and make it back into down dog before anyone noticed. It was too risky. Besides, a hard core yogi was in my way. I wondered, "If I turned off the humidifier would he be upset?" That's when I almost fell into the wall and decided to come back to the breath.

I crawled my way through the rest of the class. At one point I wondered if there was a doctor in the class in case someone passed out or didn't come to after "corpse pose." Not that I thought I would need it, but just in case. Once we were all conscious again, the room was buzzing with comments. "That was the hardest class I've ever taken." "Well, they don't call her the Yoga Nazi for nothing."

I looked at the yogi behind me and said, "At one point I wanted to turn off that humidifier, but I wasn't sure if you'd get upset."

"Oh, I love it. I always sit right next to it," he said. I noticed his tattooed ankle and thought, "Yes, I was in front of the Yoga Nazi's cousin. It's a good thing I didn't touch that dial."

At least it is out in the open now. We can affectionately and officially refer to her as the Yoga Nazi. So a word of warning: do not come to her class demurely for she just might turn and say, "No yoga for you!" And always check the website. 

Challenge Counter:
Number of Hot Yoga Classes: 6