Today I almost threw up in a Bikram yoga class. I added Bikram (90 minutes, 26 postures, 2 breathing exercises, 105 degrees, 40% humidity) to my yogic bag of tricks about 2 years ago. I won’t wax poetic about my ‘journey’ to the hot room and the major transformations therein.
Disclaimer: I love Bikram. I also love many other styles of Yoga. It’s all good. Bikram is stinky good and today I had a problem with it. And I wonder why.
I wasn’t hung over – though I am not above exercising hard after wine. My first marathon was after a celebration with friends and a dose of Xanax to curb a recurring insomia problem. (Duh! It was the night before a marathon, no one sleeps.)
I have survived near panic attacks, and paranoia in a Bikram class that the smell was just me and my perhaps (but probably, not) dirty towel (first class). Today was the first time I laid out an emergency exit plan right after ustrasana (camel) pose.
Luckily, I did not need to evacuate the premises. Usually the smell of the hot room is oddly appealing to me since I associate it with the focus and effort sprayed all over the room by all the yogis that dare to enter – and with the first time I felt my (head) hair on my feet in Uttanasa.
So today confused me. I did a quick inventory of my food intake for the day. A nectarine before class, one cup of coffee, some water. Nothing unusual. So why did my body want to be rid of its contents. Was it the smell?
An easy target. Until I burped. Then I remembered the vitamins I took this morning on a pretty empty stomach. It was the B12 not Mr. B. Mystery solved. Relief.
Never again before class. You live and learn. Still love Mr. B.
Do you like Bikram Yoga?