Disclaimer: The following is a rather subjective account of my first Bikram experience which I entered with many preconceived notions of the practice.Although Seattle boasts nearly as many yoga studios as Thai restaurants (and there are a lot of Thai restaurants in this city) for the past few years I haven't strayed far from Samadhi Yoga on Capitol Hill where I completed my teacher training in early 2008 or Georgetown Yoga , the sweet little studio south of downtown where I currently teach.
However, with the end of my summer membership at Samadhi last week I decided to go yoga exploring and check out some different styles and teachers. It doesn't hurt that many studios offer new student specials. After years of resisting the urging of friends and acquaintances to try Bikram (hot) yoga, I decided to finally give it a go the other day. To be honest, I have been a bit Bikram curious lately. I wanted to know what it was about Mr. Bikram's patented sequence of 26 poses practiced in a studio heated to 105 degrees that so many folks are bonkers about. Having been schooled in the fundamental teachings of yoga based on the moral and ethical codes (Yamas and Niyamas) outlined in the Yoga Sutras, what I knew of Choudhury Bikram, mostly via his 2005 interview on 60 Minutes in which he comes across rather pompous and materialistic, sat a bit like a pint of Ben and Jerry's in my stomach. Still, I realized that I had no basis forming a judgment about something I had never personally experienced.
So, Friday afternoon I decided to take advantage of the $20 new student 2-week membership at a popular local Bikram studio. I figured that even if I only attend 3 or 4 classes before my pass expires, Bikram (shown to the left standing on the back of a woman in paschimottanasana) and his disciples won't be making much if any money off of me. Upon entering the studio 15 minutes before the 4pm start time, I was immediately consumed by a strange smell that I couldn't quite decipher. It seemed to be a blend of sweat and artificial chemicals, possibly those used to disinfect the studio carpet.After receiving a brief explanation of the studio policies including not leaving the studio until the end of the 90 minute class unless on the verge of death and only drinking during designated water breaks, I entered the women's locker room where I briefly endured a flashback to the YMCA of my childhood. A few minutes later, looking the part of a newbie in my all purpose hiking/ yoga shorts and tank top, I nervously stepped into the studio where 15 or so scantily clad men and women had already marked their territory and appeared to be sunbathing on towel-covered yoga mats in front of a giant mirror. Relieved that the heat didn't seem as intense as I had expected it to, I unrolled my mat, covered it with the too small towel lent to me by the studio and sat down about a foot from the mirror. I didn't feel like heater bathing and instead surveyed the room. It was nearly the size of an Olympic swimming pool and the dark blue carpet with thick black stripes running lengthwise across the room added to the feeling that I was floating in a pool during the summer in Phoenix. Mirrors covered 3 of the four walls and the fourth wall was unadorned except for a couple of large windows and 2 pictures of Bikram at the far end of the studio. A box-like podium sat against the long mirrored wall in the center of the studio.
A few minutes after 4 pm, Sarah, the 30-something and apparently 4-5 months pregnant teacher, entered the studio and stood on the podium. She asked us to stand for a breathing exercise to "warm us up from the inside out". I don't know about anyone else, but my insides and outsides were already pretty darn warm. Despite my familiarity with many forms of pranyama, yogic breathing practices, I had a particularly difficult time with this one. For some reason the combination of tilting my head back while drawing my elbows together and up towards my head with my fingers interlaced had the effect of gagging me as I tried to exhale. By the 4th or 5th round I noticed drops of sweat falling to the floor. Ick.
Throughout the class Sarah delivered an almost non-stop dialogue, providing stepwise directions for each posture as well as noting the physiological benefits achieved by doing the poses as prescribed by Bikram. She frequently interrupted her discourse to remind us to keep our eyes open and fixed on our own reflection. As I was staring directly into the mirror in front of me, I barely saw Sarah, and the only indication that her monotone spiel was not a recording was her occasional singling out of a particular student to verbally correct her posture. That student happened to be me. "Julie, lock your knee." "Julie, line your heels up using the black stripe." (So that's what those stripes are for.) "Julie, palms down." I began to feel like a celebrity. From about 10 minutes into the class my sole purpose became to not give Sarah reason to call my name. Probably shouldn't have revealed that I am a yoga teacher on the new student information form.
Judging from Sarah's emphasis on each, two of the key tenets of Bikram yoga are 1) focusing on oneself in the mirror and 2) locking the knee of the standing leg in balance poses. Unaccustomed to either of these practices or the heat, I felt like yogi out of enlightenment (cue laugh). Instead of utilizing the audible breath and energy of those around me, the intense focus on my own reflection in the mirror had the effect of inducing a feeling of isolation despite being surrounded by 30 or 40 sweaty bodies. Accustomed to finding poses based mainly on an internal sense of alignment, the emphasis on visual appearance was quite a different experience for this yogi. At times it was admittedly helpful to be able to size up my symmetry visually, but mostly it just seemed to distract from the meditative experience of the practice.
Previously taught that placing weight on a locked knee could be downright unsafe and recalling a story of a woman blowing her knee out in Bikram class, I was a bit nervous while attempting to heed Sarah's orders to lock the knee of my standing leg in balance poses. I found that gazing at the reflection of my often quivering knee instead of on a point on a wall or on an inanimate object, made balancing all the more difficult. I frequently attempted to steady my gaze instead on the reflection of another student's water bottle. Luckily, Sarah didn't catch me doing this as it would have given her yet another reason to single me out in front of the class. Beginner's welcome?
The standing series culminated with "triangle pose", which Sarah demonstrated for the benefit of us newbies. I've practiced Iyengar's version of triangle thousands of times, but somehow I knew Bikram's version would throw me for a loop, so I watched her intently. It turned out that the Bikram triangle pose was a sort of hybrid between Iyengar's triangle and side angle poses and required quite a bit of core strength. I could tell by Sarah's comments that I didn't quite make Bikram proud with my version, but still, triangle was probably my favorite pose of the class.
With the completion of the standing series we were told to rest briefly in savasana or corpse pose. Sarah instructed us to keep our eyes open and to resist the urge to wipe the droplets of sweat off our face while we relaxed. While grateful for the chance to rest, lying there in the heat with drops of sweat rolling down my forehead I felt like I was in some sort of torture chamber and not in a class I had forked out money for...
I was relieved when we were told to sit up, but a bit perplexed by the transition between floor poses. Each pose ended in savasana with our legs pointed away from the mirror. After a brief rest we were instructed to sit up on an inhale, exhale twice forcefully and quickly fold forward, only to then have to scoot ourselves around to face the mirror for the next pose. The transition seemed so awkward, that I had to give Bikram the benefit of the doubt and assume that in an advanced class there is some sort of backward roll or other transitional movement that replaced the awkward "scoot". According to Sarah, the purpose of brief savasana between poses was to teach us to rest on demand and to mobilize our energy when needed. This made sense to me, but who can relax when that sweaty?
I was relatively familiar with most of the poses in the floor series, but found that being completely coated in sweat made simple poses such as holding the knee into the chest while lying back, quite a challenge. As the practice drew to a close, I found myself beginning to feel a bit queasy and stole several glances at the clock on the wall behind me. I hadn't studied the series beforehand and didn't really know what to expect. I was surprised when we ended the class with an active pranyama practice similar to Kapalabati breathing, but with forced exhales through the mouth instead of through the nose. The breathing exercise seemed like a heat building practice and not one that would prepare a student for final relaxation. Although a bit revved up, I was happy to be done as the heat and sweat were definitely getting to me. I assumed that there would be some sort of end of class ritual, but when Sarah turned on the fans, told us to take as much time and we needed to rest and walked out of the studio without so much as an "Om" or "Namaste", I felt somewhat abandoned. The fans did feel good though, and I lay there enjoying the breeze for a few minutes before rolling up my mat and exiting the studio.
As I reentered the locker room sucking down purified water my legs were a couple of Jello Pops just barely holding me up. I think this was due to an effect of the heat plus the frequent locking of my knees, as the feeling subsided after a few minutes. In the locker room I overheard a couple of college age girls discussing which fraternities they planned to visit that evening as other women were already texting their friends. Now I know how Dorothy and Toto felt...
I slowly walked home acclimating to the ambient temperature as well as to having knees that bend. I tried to put words to how I was feeling. Tired, sweaty, thirsty. My quads were a bit sore right above my knees, but other than that I didn't feel that I had been worked out particularly hard or even thoroughly as promised by Bikram. In fact, I realized I was longing to stretch out in downward facing dog pose, and to flow through a few vinyasa sequences, which I did shortly after arriving home.
While I'll probably try Bikram yoga again this afternoon, it's only because I have the pass. Maybe today's session will convince me of the practice's merits, but I wouldn't bet my ashtanga on it.
Addendum: This afternoon my Bikram instructor, Kristen, added a bit of personality or at least enthusiasm to her dialogue. She even ended with some words of encouragement and a "Namaste". Still, even the free apple after class wasn't enough to make me want to return.
