One Bikram Post Too Many

This blog opened with a Bikram yoga story and was followed by indirect or direct allusions to it, some exclusives, repetitive and constant. My husband told me to stop. But everyone, including myself, react to Bikram yoga and writing a post or refusing to read it, is yet another sticky reaction to a sport you either hate or love to hate. Don't believe anyone who has tepid or positive feelings towards it!



At the National newspaper in AbuDhabi, for a job interview, the rigid editor refused a piece called "Why I Love to Hate Bikram Yoga" that I offered to contribute, because it had an oxymoron! "Why don't you just hate it or love it? And besides we don't want to know why you hate it! Why practice it then"? He asked condescendingly, ending my brief flirtation with journalism. I simply brushed off his ignorance!

Bikram is a sport so different that I can actually combine it with weight training or pilates in a single day and use it as a pretext "to stretch". It certainly has to be the ultimate exercise of the day, because it depletes any energy I may have stored for the day.



The fittest of my friends and relatives believe that bikram is an unusual sport to say the least, requiring exertion and ending with fatigue. The most amusing eavesdropping is in the locker room after class. I hear all the comments and sympathize with my fellow yogis. We are all flushed, tired but proud we endured the long class.



I attend class occasionally, usually once a week, but sometimes twice or not at all. It is an activity I try to fit in a busy evening schedule of kids and social activities. Yet, with a pinch of guilt, I sometimes abandon my maternal responsibilities for the large chunk of time required for such a yoga stretch. Occasionally I will drag (you have to be dragged or bribed to go to bikram!) my husband, a friend, a relative or a mixture of the above (the more the merrier).



I come out invigorated and most important with a feeling of accomplishment: I climbed that mountain, I reached my goal. I crossed the finish line. I can actually work out like Madonna!