BoomerGirl Diary

I have decided to try a new exercise program: Bikram. I have walked or run consistently for many years, but occasionally I get bored. I try to jazz up my life with something new. I branch out in new endeavors that sometimes prove to be rocky. So anything new is a big deal for me. To put it more plainly: I worry that some day I’ll be on Youtube as entertainment for thousands. I seem to have two problems: concentration and coordination.

Once I took “beginning” tap dancing classes. I quickly realized that Shirley Temple had a lot of talent. There were a group of “show-offs” in my class that had obviously had many, many classes in their past lives. Sure, we were all old, but some of us had years of tap dancing. The other fact I realized was that tap dancing is LOUD. I usually lost two or three pounds from anxiety and came home with a roaring headache. I’d say to my family, “Don’t bother me. I’ve had a rough day. I had tap dancing.”

Another time I took Pilates classes. They were so relaxing that at one class I remember the instructor leaning over me:

“Wake up, Leah.”

In my defense, the lights were low and it was late afternoon.

I’ve participated in summer Dog Days, a community exercise program with hundreds of people at the KU football stadium. I even got a t-shirt. But there was a cost: Imagine a football field. The instructor calls the over-50 group to run down the field backwards. You see a lady tripping, getting dizzy, and sometimes even falling over. That’s me, being helped up by an octogenarian who speeds by.

I’ve run in 10k races and been passed by walkers who were 10 years older than me. I’d see them, “How can this happen? I thought I was actually running.” I have special techniques for races — remove my number, keep my head down, and move away from people I know. I whisper to each runner as he passes, “Find a marathon.”

There have been benefits to my risk taking. After one race I mentioned to my family, “Jim and I had a great time running together.” This caught my son Zack’s attention.

“Jim who?”

“Oh … Jim Ryun.”

“The guy who was in the Olympics and held the record for the mile?”

“Uh, yeah.”

By then my husband, Bob, and my other son, Arna, were listening.

“So how did you end up running with Jim Ryun?”

“Well, I was up by the Lied Center It was raining and really muddy. I noticed the guy next to me looked familiar. And it was Jim Ryun.”

“Really? So did you run with him for the rest of the race?”

“Not really.”

They all looked at me dubiously.

“Okay, it was only two or three minutes and then he took off. But still none of you has run with Jim Ryun … In fact, I expected you to be on the sidelines cheering me on or clapping for me at the end.”

“At eight o’clock on Saturday morning? You’ve got to be kidding.”

Bob piped up, “I drove you out to the beginning of the race and picked you up at the end. At least you didn’t have to take the bus back and pick up your car.”

“Can I have the free stuff they were giving away at the end of the race? I heard there was a cool water bottle.” Arna eyed my plastic bag.

So new exercise ventures have always been a mixed bag for me. But I felt ready for the risk. My sister Clare raves about Bikram. I approached the idea carefully. Clare also talks about how much fun she had at an exercise class where you spent an hour hanging from various bars. Bikram is hot yoga, yoga at 110 degrees or so. I figured that now was the time for me — it’s been hot for weeks so how bad can another 10 or 20 degrees be? But I had two questions for Clare.

“Do you have to be naked?”

“No, just wear exercise clothes.” She did not seem surprised at the question.

“What happens if you need to use the restroom?”

“You won’t. You just go and come back. They don’t get mad … Oh one more tip. Take a shower before you go and wear lots of deodorant. Try not to get near any guys. It gets kind of stinky.” Clare is a most helpful person.

I was out of excuses. I decided to take the plunge, face the heat.

So off to Bikram I went. I looked out the windows as I drove there. I passed Walgreens, the nail salon, Dunkin Donuts and Panera. They all looked so much more interesting and fun. I steeled myself and arrived at the Bikram place. I walked in the door. Now maybe all Bikram places are not like the one in Lawrence, but here they congratulate you for coming in.

“This will be great for you … so good for you. We’re so happy you’re here.”

The instructor gave me all the details. It cost $18 for one class or $25 for an entire week. I decided to take the second option since I don’t pass up a good deal. I took my water, towel and mat into the hot room. Unfortunately, I saw two people I knew.

“How long have you been doing Bikram?”

“This is my first class.” Like many women I immediately calculated the comparative fat levels in the room: I was by far the fattest person. There were six women and two men. The female instructor came in and 90 hellish minutes began.

“If you’re here for the first time, remember if you’re going to pass out, just stop. Drink water at any time. Don’t start wandering around in a stupor, stay on your mat. Then I know you’re safe and not bothering the other students … Don’t worry, you probably won’t be able to do everything.”

What a way to inspire confidence! The part about not being able to do everything was an understatement. You stand there and listen hard to the constant instructions. We went into one pose after another. It was similar to Pilates, but I was sweating and dripping. There wasn’t a chance I’d fall asleep. While some of the poses were extremely hard, others were impossible.

“Look in the mirror.”

“I’d rather not,” I thought to myself. There was a lady beet red, twisted up totally wrong. As the class progressed, my hair was soaking wet and sticking straight out like a clown. I barely noticed the heat. I just concentrated on doing the poses correctly. Believe it or not, it was fun.

The good part is that nobody notices you. Everybody is sweating like crazy trying to lift their legs higher, hold their stomachs in, and do whatever the instructor says. Another advantage is that you all get finished at the same time. You move on to the next pose, even if you fail and nobody is waiting. This is very different from some exercises I’ve tried. During the infrequent rest periods of 10 seconds or so, the instructor tells soothing, positive stories about what you’re doing.

“This really helps your back and your whole attitude. You can only concentrate on your legs, nothing else. You’re totally in the moment …”

So, Clare, you’re right. It’s a great experience. I’ll be going for the next six days to get my money’s worth. I may even keep it up. You do feel great when it’s over. You are all stretched out, soaking wet, and you have taken a total break from your life. In those 90 minutes your biggest worry was getting your chin up or not falling down when you were standing on one leg. Whoever said you have to be good at the exercise you choose?B esides, everybody needs some humility. So maybe you’ll see me walking the streets in my new t-shirt, “Bikram Yoga Makes Me Hot.”