.....Bend sideways, reach to the ceiling, hips to the left, arms to the right, like the flower petal opening....
That's what she says, or at least something to that effect at my local Bikram Yoga class. It's a script they follow, every class the same 26 postures in a room kept somewhere around 107 degrees, but my body responds differently each and every time I go.
Only today I was nothing like the flower petal and came out more like a lame horse midway through the class at which point I was sure one of my hamstrings had torn completely off it's insertion. It was far from lovely.
And as I hobble, sit on ice, take ibuprofen and gently move and stretch I'm concerned with only one thing. Will I be able to make it to the next class? Oh yes my friends, this could definitely become a new obsession.
For the adventurous and slightly crazy among you who have no fear of heat, perspiration and doing yoga next to a sixty-something gentleman who blows his nose, cleans his ears with Q-tips and looks to have spent his life up until that point at the bottom of a whiskey bottle (I get stuck next to him every time), I say go for it.