Hot Bikram Torture

I'm a sucker for a deal so when I heard my local Hot Bikram yoga studio was doing a 20-day trial, I saw it as a great opportunity to put my favourite 5.30am alarm back into use...

After consulting friends and colleagues who rave about this amazing exercise which is so good for flexibility, core strength and 'just making you feel great' (apparently) I thought it was worth a go. Luckily one of my gorgeous and enthusiastic tri chums, Bernie, agreed to join me on the trial and soon after we had booked up our first session: bright and early on a weekday morning at 6.30am.

We arrived late (the first of many faux pas that morning) and rushed in to join the scantily clad fellow yogis - speedos which leave nothing to the imagination, bikini tops and lycra hot pants are the order of the day. Bernie clevelry wore a swimming costume, I, on the other hand was in full running kit (second faux pas). It felt weird already. We were welcomed by the teacher and other students and questionned on our experience - I confidently said I had practised quite a bit of yoga so had no worries. Little did I know this experience would not prepare me for the next 90 minutes.

We sat on our tiny triathlon race freebie towels (a little larger than a flannel) and the teacher pointed out we  needed proper towels (third faux pas) which would absorb all our sweat (ALL?).  There was sniggering as we were loaned full sized ones. The first 10 minutes were spent opening our mouths, raising arms and bending our heads back: dizzying.  What then ensured was 26 postures in quick succession, each one performed twice.  That's 52.  Rapidly. Twisting our cores, standing on one leg, bending forwards, bending backwards, putting heads between our sweaty knees and generally melting. After only 30 minutes, I started feeling incredibly sick. 45 degrees is hot. It's the kind of hot you would suffer from if you had to stay in the shade on holiday. The kind of heat where you couldn't be bothered to walk to the bar for an icy cocktail in a bid to stay cool. It was tough. Really tough. As I began sitting out every other posture to curb any puking, Bernie courageously mirrored the other yogis as the room got steamier and sweatier and smellier. A man in front of us had a river of sweat running down his tiny shorts. Delicious.



Purple face

We were told at the beginning that the most important thing to do is stay in the room for the full 90 minutes. I told myself, I had to stay in the room, and I'm not one for failure. Now, I like to think of myself as physically and mentally quite strong, but this was something else. I kept pointing out to Bernie that each new sweaty posture was harder than any brick session or core session I have done before. We got told off for talking (fourth faux pas), were advised not to wipe away our sweat 'as it cools the body' (fifth faux pas) and were not allowed to drink water during the posture routines as it 'interrupts the flow' (sixth faux pas). Then, obviously during a quiet moment between postures, my mobile phone rang (seventh faux pas). I kept waiting for the meditation/ relaxtion time which I was used to from other yoga classes, but it never came. Sometimes the teacher bought temptation and relief into the room by opening a tiny crack in the door for a few moments before banging it shut (note to self: must sit by door next time). Finally they announced we were on the last posture. THANK GOD, the last posture. I did it and then ran for the door as quickly as possible, despite being told it is good to stay there to relax in the heat straight afterwards (eighth faux pas).


As we were  leaving, a chap with a shaved head was sitting outside in the chilly 4 degree morning with a ridiculous amount of steam pouring out of his pores. He told me 'I can't physically do anything until my body temperature returns to near normal'. I knew how he felt. I was wiped out and had never seen my face so purple, even after a tough olympic distance triathlon! We went for a post-torture smoothie and copious amounts of water before heading off to work. I expected to feel cleansed, invigorated and enlightened, but instead I felt disgusting, sick and light-headed, and not in a good way. My work day which followed was rather painful; I suffered from slight dehydration, had to lie down in a dark edit suite for a while and finally had to leave work early to go home and sleep off my migraine. Bernie on the other hand was fine, so I spent the next few days asking anyone who listened for advice on how to get through a bikram yoga session unaffected.

However, never one for giving up at the first hurdle, I am off again this week. Bernie has enthusiastically planned another class and I am determined to get through the class and the day that follows without having to take to my bed. 10 litres or water before and some electrolytes should help. And maybe I might even enjoy it? And if nothing else, maybe it will prepare me for when I compete in Kona one day!

I would be very grateful for advice from any Bikram experts out there, please do leave comments on how to survive!

What do triathletes do in the winter?

Arriving back in the UK after a beautiful spring race and holiday in NZ was a bit of a shock. The clocks had gone back, darkness began at 4pm and someone had turned the temperature down: winter had arrived. The last month has been spent jet lagged, overcoming a nasty virus (my body shutting down at the end of a hard season?) and catching up with work, friends and sleep. Initially, I enjoyed being 'off-training'; I could sleep till 7am, wear clothes which weren't made of lycra, enjoy wine with dinner without feeling guilty, and stop cleaning out my protein shaker twice a day, but after a couple of weeks, the itchy feet begun and my new relaxed life felt a little dull.

Joe Friel advises that winter training is all about a variety of cross training sessions 'for fun' and nothing too structured, but after 32 weeks of living by a spreadsheet, I found this concept difficult to get my head around. What then ensued was a number of emails to my 'triathlon friend mailing list' asking for company on a variety of different activities for the winter season I had signed up to: British Military Fitness, Hot Bikram Yoga, cold water swimming and French lessons, that's right - I am also aiming to fill the training gap in my life with learning a new language. People keep asking me why I can't just relax and enjoy it but it what I enjoy is sport and it makes me relaxed, so that concept is lost on me.

The winter is also time for planning next year. By strictly following instructions in Friels' 'Triathlon Bible', I spent an entire day designing 'The annual plan' - a complicated spreadsheet with time period tabs, colour coded sections, dates, A, B and training races, allotted hours, aims and objectives. And it only took 6 hours! An activity reminiscent of the hours I used to spend designing my colour coded revision plans during my teenage years.

I am also going to usefully using this time to fix my 'Bumjury' (I'm currently waiting for an MRI scan on that ongoing pain in the ass - literally) and trying to master that dratted catch with my swim coach Ray. This morning I went for a run for the first time since NZ race a month ago and my lungs felt like the size of a 5-year old's. Everyone says you need to 'keep your base up' over winter but it is hard to motivate yourself when you can just hear the rain smashing against your bedroom window in the morning and your next 'A race' is still over 6 months away.

Luckily, my training plan 'base period' starts in mid January, so just another month or feeling a little lost and embracing these random activities, and I can get back into it. People say that triathletes often have addictive personalities , but I don't know what that mean. Right, back to my French homework, before setting my 6am alarm for Hot Bikram yoga...