Pondering Yoga Poses

Chaturanga dandasana. Exhale! Downward-facing dog!

All you yogis out there most likely feel sweet relief from downward-facing dog (or down dog for short), a "restful, home-base posture" allowing you to refocus on your practice and reset your breath. Some of you probably do down dogs at home for a good stretch and for some relaxation. Some of you may quickly deem it your favorite yoga posture.

For me, downward-facing dog is agony. I freaking hate that posture. Honestly, the primary reason I practice hot yoga or Bikram yoga most frequently is that it doesn't have that horrendous posture. Aside from the fact that it sends shooting pains through my shoulders (okay, okay, a bit dramatic there...it just doesn't feel pleasant), I apparently just can't get it right. During a good 25% of the classes I take I am corrected by some way or another by an instructor. Sometimes they pull my hips up and back. Sometimes they push on my heels to get them to touch the mat.

Yes, I passionately hate down dog. None of you will believe this, but I also hate child's pose, another allegedly "restful" posture. I admit I am strange when it comes to my likes and dislikes of yoga postures. Let's continue, shall we? Maybe in list form from now on.

Yoga Postures Listed from My Least Favorite to Favorite
(Disclaimer: this list doesn't contain every yoga pose in existence. Not even close)

1) Downward-facing dog (just thinking about it makes me wince)

Doesn't this look RELAXING?? No.

2) Half-moon (Ardha candrasana)

Worst thing ever. But makes good abs.

3) High to low plank (Chaturanga dandasana)

 

Because we all LOVE planks!

4) Standing Head to Knee (Dandayamana-Janushirasana)
Basically I just can't figure this one out. My balance is just that bad.

Yep, I can only get to step one.

5) Standing Separate Leg Head to Knee Pose (Dandayamana-Bibhaktapada-Janushirasana)

Can't...breathe...so...awful....

6) Standing Bow Pose (Dandayamana-Dhanurasana)
I have a love/hate relationship with standing bow pulling pose. Some days I rock it and others....not so much.

7) Plow (Halasana)

This seriously feels amazing.

8) Tree Pose (Tadasana)

 





















9) Camel Pose (Ustrasana)This is literally my "hangout pose." It's relaxing and fun and feels awesome.

10) Fixed Firm Pose (Supta-Vajrasana)

Okay I'm tired of looking up these pictures, but also, I HATE locust pose with a firey passion. I only do it because a teacher once told me that the postures you hate the most are the ones you need the most. Alright, fine.

Yoga Torture Chamber- The Saga Continues

Just call me Patty Hearst. First I was tortured in the way-too-hot yoga chamber, then I was taken prisoner. I figured, you know what, after that first hellish experience at the Bikram studio for which I bought a Groupon, there is no way things can deteriorate any further. I certainly can't say that last night's class was worse than Tuesday's. The good thing about that scarring experience was that I had rockbottom expectations for last night. After I changed and stepped through the studio doors, my body did not automatically turn into a fountain of sweat- good sign number one. The teacher walked in and seemed substantially less like an evil dictator than the the one on Tuesday- good sign number two.

As class kicked off, I got through the first postures absolutely fine, and the instructor made a significant amount of small suggestions that really benefited the way I think about my alignment in postures. When she told us to hang our heads during our first backward bend, she said "pretend your head is a tomato on a vine." Nice visual. During triangle, she explained that when the instructors tell us to have our "thigh bicep" parallel to the floor, they mean the "bicep of our thigh," and I always thought they meant "thigh and bicep." Yes, lots of truly life-changing tips there.

So, around an hour and 20 minutes into the practice, I admit I just got bored. I wanted to go home and get ready for bed. So, I waited for a posture where everyone has their heads down so they would be less likely to notice me sneak out, grabbed my mat and towel and rushed towards the door. Of course, the teacher noticed and asked if I was okay, and I just said "yeah, fine," and stepped out. Well, just when I thought I was in the clear, the two people at the front desk, the evil instructor from Tuesday and some little twat who helped sign people in, called out and asked if I was okay. Not wanting to admit that I just got sick of being in a 90 minute yoga class that was clearly going to run overtime, I just mumbled "yeah, just a little light headed…" and rushed into the locker room. WELL, twat girl followed me in as I was grabbing my stuff to make a run for it and told me I needed to come out and sit down. I wanted to slap her in the face and run away.

I hesitantly complied and sat awkwardly on a bench in the lobby area while she brought me a cold towel for my forehead. I placed the towel on my forehead like a damsel in distress simply to humor them, but got increasingly annoyed as she began to make conversation with me.

"You know, we can't just have you wandering about feeling light-headed. Have you ever done hot yoga before?"

"Um…yeah for about two years. I guess the humidity just seemed high."

"Yeah, it has been for a few days. Well, are you ready to go in to finish class?"

I gave her my best "you've gotta be f***ing kidding me" face and said "um, no, I think I'm just going to head out."

"Actually, you need to sit for awhile."

So, feeling like a captive or a child in timeout, I sat and stared at the clock, watching the seconds tick by slower than molasses moves in winter. Finally, after about 5 minutes, I decided it was time for a prison break. I stood up and tried to sneak past my captors. I grabbed my stuff, and on the way out was stopped once again by evil dictator instructor from Tuesday.

"Um, can I make a suggestion?" Boy, I love questions that aren't questions.

"Sure."

"You were in my class Tuesday and left, right? Well, you need to try to go to an earlier class. And you need more electrolytes."

I raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I'll try that."

"I'd highly suggest it." He said, in a monotone.

I made my rush for the for the door and finally escaped, just as class came to an end anyhow. At least I didn't succumb to Stockholm Syndrome. I did learn from this experience, however, that I would not do well as a captive. If I went that stir crazy being forced to stay somewhere against my will for 10 minutes, imagine what days or weeks would do to me…

I'd say "I'm never going back there" but I still have 13 classes left on my Groupon. We will see what horrors I experience the next class on Tuesday….

Yoga Torture Chamber

As I jaunted joyfully to my first Bikram yoga class in many moons, I felt both excited and nervous, but also confident that I would feel amazing after a 90-minute detox in a hot and humid room. My mood worsened slightly from the way the front desk attendant treated me. After affirming her inquiry about whether I had a Groupon or LivingSocial deal or not, she asked me in a monotone drone if I read the fine print about sending my information to the studio in advance. I admitted that I hand't, and she scolded me about not reading the fine print. Seriously? I was there over 45 minutes in advance in order to provide adequate information-providing time. She then thrust a clipboard in front of my face and told me to fill it out, not even trying to mask her annoyance with my lack of fine-print reading.

As I filled out the form, an awkward silence descended upon us like an ominous storm cloud, and I quickly tried to ward it off by making conversation about their studio, etc. She wasn't having it. Note to self: not reading fine print really rubs people the wrong way. My mood still chalk-full of excitement, I left the desk as quickly as possible so she would stop lowering my happiness level.

The beet-red faces of the practitioners exiting the preceding class and the lady sitting on the floor beside the studio door should have been blaring warning signals of what was to come. Yet, naive as I was, I believed that after two years of never having a horrendous Bikram class, it was simply impossible for them to exist. No matter how much I struggle during the course, I always managed to push through and feel an incredible yoga-high afterwards.

I hadn't the slightest idea what I was about to get into. The moment I set foot into that studio, beads of sweat began rolling down my body. That's not supposed to happen until at least five minutes into class. This had me worried, yet by no means panicked. Then class began and things changed. I felt light-headed within the first ten minutes of class. Chalking it up to not being used to such extreme humidity after just moving from a dry climate, I swallowed my pride (almost choking on it) and took a seat on my mat. Yet, my heard rate never subsided from nearing one which would induce cardiac arrest. About 15 to 20 minutes in, a petite blonde from the other side of the room rushed out, her face flushed.

My skin's appearance upon entering the studio 

Another practitioner quickly followed, clutching an empty water bottle. As he passed the instructor, he was met with the snarky suggestion by the teacher that he "bring a bigger water bottle next time." The next time he revealed his inner a$$hole was when the woman next to me did a modification to a posture due to an injury and he pranced over to her and informed her that she was "not allowed to make modifications without notifying the instructor ahead of time." Seriously…? After that, the third or fourth person exited the studio, clearly dying from the seemingly noxious heat bearing down upon us. This infuriated the instructor, and he stopped class to lecture us like a teacher does a class of five-year-olds.

"Um, FAR too many people have left today!" He said sternly. A woman near me retorted that the class was "way too hot" and he simply responded in a matter-of-fact tone that this was his third class in a row (of course, not mentioning that all he has to do is stand there and shout commands) and we should just chill out and "meditate." Wow. That comment made me up and leave instantly. In the locker room, I encountered the first to fall from the torturous heat- the blonde. She asked me how I managed to withstand it for such a long time, and I simply shrugged. At least what shall forever be known as the Bikram Class of Death for me caused me to make a new friend. We commiserated about how we were both stuck in that studio for at least 15 classes because we both bought coupons prepaying for them, so we decided to always attend the same ones.

Her name was Alexis, and she said she literally had to rush out to vomit, and officially labeled it a yoga torture chamber, and noted her concerns because of people dying of hear strokes at that temperature. She then assured me that it is typically not that hot at that studio and that I had just chosen a rough class to be my first. Well, we will see how it goes tonight… 

Yoga Discrepancies

All the instructors worldwide of every type of yoga need to have a conference to get on the same page and save us poor practitioners from endless hassle. I began my yoga journey as a Bikram yoga addict thinking there was no better yoga workout on the face of the earth. The instructors gave me personal adjustments for a year to the point I felt I had mastered some of the postures. Then, when I realized how expensive Bikram memberships are, a fact I had not realized as I was working at a studio thus receiving free classes, I switched over to doing hot yoga, which is essentially the same thing without paying Bikram to use his name. Also, the classes are generally 15 to 30 minutes shorter which is nice considering the 1 hour 30-minute length of Bikram sessions.

So, here I was, thinking I had mastered the stance-distance of my triangle pose, only to be told by some pretentious, self-righteous hot yoga instructor that my legs were too close together in "extended side-angle." First of all, can we all agree that the postures that are the EXACT same should at least have the exact same name? Confused is not the best mind state in yoga, and telling me to do "extended side-angle" when I have had the posture name of "triangle" ingrained into my mind puts me in exactly that state. So Bikram's "triangle" is also known as "hot-style triangle" which is also known as "extended side-angle" which is also known as "trikonasana." "Dancer's pose" is also known as "standing bow-pulling pose" or just "standing bow." "Fixed firm pose" is also known as "supta virasana" which is also known as "reclining hero pose" and a slight variation of the pose is "sleeping diamond." That is just a few of the many examples. I want to meet the person/people in charge of creating all of these confusing names and slug them in the face.

This posture and the one below have the same name. WHY??

I just want all yoga instructors to sit at the world's largest conference table and decide once and for all the proper placement of one's hands on their feet during camel pose, or, ustrasana. For the entire time during which I had practiced yoga up until taking a course in India, I was told to bend back and grab a hold of my heels with my hands. The instructor in India thought this was absurd and told me to lie my palms flat on my feet. Now I am just confused. I don't know who to believe anymore! I guess it makes sense how all of this craziness came about- yoga postures have been taught and retaught so many times that it has become like a big game of telephone. Still, it drives me nuts!

The flat-hand method

The heel-grab method

My Deformed, Broken, Strong, Flexible, Beautiful Spine

Deformed, flexible, to-may-toe, tom-ah-toe. People both complimented and berated my spine in the past few weeks, causing me to whip out my glass-half-full optimistic attitude by electing to ignore the insults and bask only in the compliments. Prior to attending the Boulder Creek Festival where I first decided to dabble in the chiropractic world (a Boulder chiropractor who will not be named [Voldemort style] was offering free adjustments at his booth), I never gave much thought to my spine. I gave about as much thought to my spine as the aloof hipster at the bar gives to the nerdy girl in the corner considering hitting on him. Shame on you, hipster guy! But now, the roles are reversed and I have become the nerdy girl and my spine the hipster.

Companies that set up booths offering deals are just fishing for suckers like me to take the bait. The bait being, in this case, a free initial consultation and follow-up appointment. Well, I attacked that deal like a fat kid attacks birthday cake and ignored the nagging premonition that I would come to regret it.

At my first appointment, Dr. He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named (man, he needs a different pseudonym) took pictures from different angles of me standing, and with every click of the camera made a face that would suggest he was about to diagnose me with an increasingly worse stage of brain cancer. Yet I still left feeling chipper about my posture, as it was not until my follow-up that he informed me, to continue with the brain cancer metaphor, that I was advanced stage 3 and may as well say goodbye to my loved ones within the hour. Basically, he showed me the developed pictures and warned me that despite my crippled, deformed spine being in dire need of repair, he could fix it for the low, low price of $4,000 a year if I agreed to come in three plus times a week. By the time I walked out of the building I felt like the mutant offspring resulting from the inter-species breeding of the Hunchback of Notre Dame and a two-humped camel. The Hulk Theme song, The Lonely Man, should have been playing in the background as I shamefully wandered back to my car.

The whole afternoon following that second appointment, I wanted to throw in the towel and embrace my new life as a recently diagnosed spinal cripple. It won't be all bad, I thought; I can just spend it in a back brace like JFK and eventually be assassinated as a result from wearing it (it kept him upright after the first bullet hit him, allowing the second one to end his life). Or, I could just lay down and never get up again. Both totally valid options in my mind at the time.

After sharing the ordeal with my parents, they referred me to their chiropractor to obtain a second opinion. I love second opinions- eventually, if you see enough people, you are bound to get the opinion you want, right? I told chiropractor number two about the ordeal which left her in gut wrenching laughter about the absurdity of chiropractor number one and his desperate treatment of chiropractic care as if it were a Wall Street biz. She assured me that my spine was fine- yes, my posture could be improved but whose couldn't, really? She gave me some useful exercises to do at home to make my shoulders feel more relaxed and gave me a good adjustment complete with popping and cracking sounds as she yanked my head into positions I hardly thought it capable of being in. End scene.

Walking out of her office, I felt less like the daughter of the hunchback but still like my spine could use a whole lot more lovin'. Flash forward another two weeks (warp speed, Sulu! [or is Spock in charge of warp speed? Trekies? Anyone??]). Now we are in hot yoga class, and going into camel pose. Ever since I started doing yoga, I never felt challenged by camel. As yoga instructors say, we all have our "hang-out posture," and that one happens to be mine. This particular class, however, the instructor came over to me and asked if I felt challenged or like I wanted a more advanced posture. I said I wanted to go for it, and the next thing I knew he had me looking like this:

Instead of my usual:

I felt like a badass. After class, he told me my spine is flexible and beautiful and that it was incredible I could do advanced camel. I'm thinking that yoga teacher should consider becoming a chiropractor. Take that, chiropractor number one! My spine knocks it out of the park!

Modified 30 Day Challenge!

For any of you familiar with the clandestine community of Bikram yoga, you are already well-acquianted with the 30-day challenge. For those of you who are not (which I assume is the vast majority if not all of my readers), you will probably correctly infer that it is a challenge to do 30 Bikram sessions in 30 days. Very self explanatory. The goal of this is that you will feel so phenomenal and get so utterly addicted during the 30 days (which, not surprisingly, is usually the lengh of time that Bikram studios have introductory special rates) that you will never be able to stop, and will most likely cave in to the ridiculously high membership rates (around $150-200 a month, generally with no student/senior rates. Seriously...). I had always wanted to participate in aforementioned challenge and assume that I unofficially did while working at the studio in L.A. since I attended class so much.

After moving to Boulder, I found that there were two Bikram studios aside from the one at which I already used my intro rate- one in Longmont and one in Westminister, which offered a $49 membership for your first month. I thought, wow, how perfect! Now I can do my 30-day challenge. Yet going about 30 minutes out of my way in either direction did not appeal to me or my gas tank too much. So I decided to do a little cheating and make a personalized 30-day challenge. All it really means is that I won't get a commemorative T-shirt. Maybe someone will make me one.

As previously mentioned in other posts, other yoga studios have been essentially stealing Bikram yoga and simply calling it "hot yoga" to avoid paying for the rights to the name. This is much to the dismay of Bikram and his studios, naturally. However, the classes are literally the same exact thing. How this is legal, I'm not sure- you'd have to ask a lawyer or really intelligent law school student. Since Yoga Pod happens to be in the most convinient location for me, I plan to attend their hot yoga sessions for 30 days. Boom, problem solved. Don't worry, I will document everything on this page including before and after photos! Don't get too excited!

I fully plan to master all 26 postures below, even though I know I will be feeling like the thought bubbles in the image below the image below.

 

Photo from chocolateismylife-us.blogspot.com

Photo from theironyou.com
 

 

Clique-y Yoga

About a year ago, I would have told time travelers from 2012 informing me of my future yoga-doing, kale-eating self, I would have told them to take a hike to the nearest time machine mechanic, since theirs seemed to have brought them from an alternate universe where I was super hippie. I also would most likely have punched them in the face as they had offended me so deeply.

Then, when I had to chance to try Bikram yoga for free last July, I became instantly ensnared past the point of no return. As free yoga was one of my employment benefits (gotta love L.A.), I completely took for granted the fact that this particular type of elitist yoga cost around $185 per month. Upon returning to Colorado, unemployment forced me to get a bit creative and do something drastic in order to continue practicing yoga. I even recognized that the scant amount of Bikram yoga studios in Boulder and its immediate surroundings would force me to try out *gasp* different styles of yoga! Shocking!

When I first betrayed my beloved Bikram yoga to take advantage of CorePower Yoga's free trial week, I felt a bit guilty. I always knew of the animosity bubbling between Bikram yoga and other styles of hot yoga which allegedly copied Bikram in its entirety but were mere greedy wannabes. So i couldn't have felt more out-of-place when I sheepishly entered CorePower wearing my Bikram Yoga Marina del Rey shirt. It actually felt a little West Side Story. When the CorePower yogis eyed my Bikram shirt disapprovingly, I half expected all of us to smart snapping and circling each other Sharks vs. Jets style prior to breaking out into a spontaneous musical number.

Yet as much as I didn't want to, I completely loved what CorePower had to offer. I was wrong in my characterization of the Sharks and the Jets, however; after attending another Bulder yoga studio, Radiance Yoga (where they teach Batiste-style yoga), my mind formulated a new and more accurate analogy. I realized that yoga studios are more like high school cliques. CorePower is the jock clique, as they are definitely the most popular, nation-wide studio bullying smaller studios in the hallway. However, they are really cool to hang out with so people like them anyways. Radiance Yoga is the clique of girls desperately trying to be popular but aren't quite there yet. By that I mean they will adapt their personalities according to who they are hanging out with and try to please everyone. Radiance Yoga doesn't kick their participants butts for the sake of giving them an awesome workout- rather, they basically let members do whatever they want to feel good about themselves.

Bikram is a weird case in this analogy. Bikram yoga is that cool, elusive kid that wears a lot of black and hangs out by himself or just a couple of other equally elusive kids. Bikram sort of slinks in the shadows of the hallway and that aura of mystery emanates the kind of "cool" that high school kids want to be associated with. Hence why other studios copy Bikram yoga.

Wow, that was one elaborate analogy, Marisa...