In Which I Spend Time in the Depths of Hell

There I was, on the floor, lying on my back. Playing dead. Like a giant, sweaty opossum.

Waves of heat washed over my prone body.

Just. don't. move.

Flashback.

I was stalking perusing my friends' facebook pages when I came across this post on T's page:

"I'm excited to give Bikram Yoga a try -- this is a great deal! Who wants to do it with me?"

And this link to Groupon.

http://www.groupon.com/deals/bikram-yoga-at-brick-canvas

And I thought:

Hey. This would be good to get me back into exercise mode after my 2-month hiatus. And I'd have a buddy to keep me motivated. And it IS a great deal.

So I responded with alacrity. And several exclamation points.

Flashforward.

I roll my eye over to where my friend is going through all the poses like a rock star. Then I close my eyes again and continue to perfect my Wilted Woman pose.

I think back, fondly, to when I first walked in and was merely. . .hot. I was so young then. And so naïve. And so dry.

I had started off pretty well. But then the heat and pretzel twisting of my body started going to my head. Brain fuzzy, I'd sit down for a bit and watch. Then I'd try again. And then I would lie down and listen.

Finally, it was time for the floor work. Great! I can do that. No standing = No dizziness.

Again, it was going pretty well. However, it was a little difficult to grasp things, being all sweaty and tangled up in my own limbs and whatnot. I'm not what you would call. . .graceful. Or coordinated. Or agile. You get the picture. The instructor came over to lend a helping hand. And then it happened. A little tug and twist. My shoulder gave a tiny pop. Fire spread down the muscles of my arm. I sat up, cussing- in my head, out of respect to the others, and fear that even several hundreds of miles away my mother would know. But not crying. Because my tear ducts had emptied themselves into a sweat gland reservoir 45 minutes earlier.

The instructor asked me a few questions to make sure it wasn't too serious, and then suggested I take it easy for the remaining time. That's when I began seriously practicing the Dead Opossum pose. I believe I have mastered it, should you desire to learn.

After an eternity (time being infinitely difficult to measure in the bowels of purgatory) it was time to go.

So, there you have it. The depths of Hell. It was hot. It was sweaty. It was uncomfortable.

I'm going back Thursday.

After all, I spent money.

And we all know how I feel about that.

And I did feel pretty good afterwards.

(Lesson learned: Hydrate properly BEFORE Bikram)

P.S. Thanks, T, for getting me out of my comfort zone and helping me try new things and being a good example of not giving up. I will try to emulate that next time :)

P.P.S. My shoulder will be fine with some ibuprofen and ice. Just a little strain.

P.P.P.S. I know my mother will be worried I'm putting too much stress on my heart, so: Mommy, I'm fine. I promise I will take it slow whenever I need to and stop if I get symptomatic.