Day 49 It’s All About Balance
*Warning: If you have a super-sensitive gag reflex, ie: you can’t change a diaper without a Haz-Mat suit, this post may not be suitable for you.*
Yoga’s about balance. Inside, and out. In this, my second 30-day Bikram yoga challenge, things are happening to my body on a cellular level. Muscles, ligaments, osteoblasts, osteoclasts, yada, yada. Structures are changing, got it.
I hadn’t thought about what might be happening on a chemical level. As in, electrolyte imbalance.
Everyone knows that during an illness involving a loss of fluids – like vomiting and diarrhea – the delicate balance of electrolytes can be disrupted. Sodium and potassium levels go out of whack, resulting in all sorts of problems, if left untreated long enough.
But excessive sweating also results in a loss of fluids. Ie: Bikram yoga. Duh.
Now, I don’t go anywhere without my trusty BPA-free water-bottle, and I down a LOT before and after a class. I know better than to let myself get dehydrated. And, if y’all recall my post on my special recovery drink, I thought I had the whole electrolyte thing covered.
That was before I did two classes in one day.
It was a slow process, but I think that was the tipping point. I’d been aware that, over the past 49 days, my gastro-intestinal system had been getting somewhat… unbalanced. Sluggish. Underperforming. Okay, backed up like the Number 1 Highway before the Port Mann bridge. I’ve always considered my colon one of my reliable organs, as opposed to my various defective ones, so this was disconcerting. My diet is good, lots of whole grains, fruits and veggies. So, WTF?
It must be cancer, was where my mind immediately went, naturally. But, upon further research, I think I stumbled upon a simpler cause: excessive sweating in yoga was making my bloodstream suck the fluid out of my intestines, and kids, that’s a place where you really want your liquids and your solids in perfect balance. I won’t go into details here, but you never appreciate your GI system until it’s not working properly. (And for the record, while I’m not squeamish – I love nothing better than a good projectile-anything story, like Dave Barry’s colonoscopy experience – my kids get snippy when I over-share. But for the right price…)
Anyway, desperate to reboot my colon, getting no love from Raisin Bran, flax cereal, prunes or Metamucil, I finally downed a few shots of Milk of Magnesia – which is quite tasty, by the way, creme de menthe with a medicinal finish – on Friday night, after my double-yoga-day.
It was that or dynamite.
Report: reboot successful. I stayed close to home yesterday. That sweet, minty taste packs quite a wallop.
I’ve learned my lesson. Now, in addition to my own recovery cocktail, I replenish my electrolytes with HydraLyte solution – which tastes like blackberry-infused sea-water – after every class. My colon and I are in a careful detente at the moment, but I’ll be watching.
I could use this as an excuse to quit, and I did skip several postures today but I’m going to try and hang in there for ten more days.
And the Milk of Magnesia’s going on the high shelf. Don’t get me wrong: I feel much better now. But that stuff is scary.
Day 48 When God Opens a Window
Actually, it wasn’t God, it was Tony, one of the owners of the studio, but it was a little miracle, nonetheless.
It was a very full room, as I believe I’ve mentioned. Lots of bodies. Lots of big, hard bodies. The kind that produce their own heat. Real estate was at a premium, but I managed to snag a spot in the corner, at the bottom, near the windows. There’s something psychologically helpful about seeing fresh air and water, even if you can’t get at it.
Ida Ripley is gorgeous, cheerful and yes, a good instructor. She used a few people for demonstrations, identifying subtle movements that make big differences in how the postures work. That was all good.
But it was really hot, hotter than usual, in that room.
After about the fourth or fifth posture, I was getting into trouble. I’d drunk most of my water already, and was feeling not great. I made it through the standing series, and was lying down in savasana, looking at the scant half-cup left in my bottle, wondering how I’d make it last, when a shadow loomed over me.
Tony, red-faced and dripping, reaching for the window. He pulled it open an inch and instantly, I felt a cool breeze float over me. I guess I wasn’t the only person feeling a little desperate. I’ve never enjoyed the tickle of fresh air more.
After a couple of postures, Randee, Tony’s partner, picked her way through the bodies toward me, and closed the window. She’s such a purist, such a keener, that girl. And her two months post-partum, too! Maybe baby-brain is making her crazy. It happens.
Tony seemed to think so, because a few minutes later, he returned, opened the window, and it stayed open the rest of the class. Over the bodies between us, Randee gave me a wry smile as if to say, “Husbands, they think they know everything.” I shrugged, smiling back, but if she’d have tried to close that window again, I’d have taken her out.
And that’s how I survived my second class of the day. By the miracle of an open window. And a touch of marital discord.
Day 47 Well, I did it…
… and my Bikram yoga journey continues.
I took it a little easier at the 9:30 am class, so that I’d have some juice left for 7:30 pm Master Class with Ida Ripley tonight. Turns out that, while some things, like scoops, shots and Bubble, are good doubled, other things, like chins, bets and trouble, are not.
I don’t have enough juice for a double-class day.
With 37 participants, the hot room was channeling Hell, and all I could think of was, “I paid $25 for this.”
But I made it through to the end. And before I write one single more thing about my double-yoga-day, I’m going to bed. I’ve earned it and I need it.
Oy.