On Friday, I went down to the Apple store in SoHo because my poor iPhone hasn’t been feeling well.  Diagnosis was not good, and I am going to have to upgrade it once the new one comes out.  I was already downtown, and therefore had the perfect excuse to walk around aimlessly on that perfect day down there.

I ended up wandering into a few stores.  Including the one I could happily live in for the rest of my life.

I came home with a few essentials that I absolutely needed.

I had the rest of the day to run wild and do whatever I felt like.  Apparently, I felt like sweating.

I had been wanting to try Bikram yoga for a while now, but was feeling a tad hesitant due to all the horror stories I had been hearing.  Most of them went to the tune of “I felt like I was going to throw up the whole time, but it was awesome afterwards.” So, I guess I had the “awesome” part to look forward to? Um… sign me up?

No but seriously, the benefits of Bikram are never ending.  The class is made up of about 25 poses, that are done in sets and each pose has different advantages.  Bikram benefits not only our muscles and posture, but also helps with circulation, digestion, anxiety,flexibility, inflammation, etc.  I was always aware of these benefits, but was a little turned off by the whole (awesome?) torture aspect.

Despite all this, I decided to put my big girl pants on, and sign up for an unlimited weekly pass (it ended up being a few more dollars than a single class). I brought my own mat, towel, and a water bottle.  After paying and stashing my bag in a locker, I stepped into the 105 degree room.  I laid down for a few minutes in an attempt to calm my heart down before we began.  It was beating so fast.  Then before I knew it, I was bent in half doing the first pose, and I was sweating.  A lot.  Out of every single pore.  I know, its gross, but also strangely bizarre. I don’t think I knew it was possible to sweat out of my shins.  I mean jeez louise, my fingers were pruning. At that point I started laughing a little.  What on earth had I gotten myself into?

About 45 minutes into it, a girl in the class had a minor panic attack and had to step by the window to keep it together.  The teacher insisted that she stay in the room (I think that the girl really wanted to try and stick it through).  She ended up staying, and I was really impressed by her determination.  The class runs for 90 minutes.  At certain points I thought I was going to pass out, throw up, go insane, scream out of frustration, or cry.  Those moments were intertwined with relief and glee, mostly because I was surprised that I was still conscious.  Not to be too dramatic, but this class was one of the most intense things I have ever done.  I left looking like I had gone swimming in my clothes.  I also left feeling AWESOME.  I was riding my endorphin high, and kept waiting for it to fall… except it never did.

Since I had such a good time during the 90-minute-near-death-experience class on Friday, I decided to go back on Saturday morning… and Sunday morning.  I must have been intoxicated under something a bit stronger than endorphins at that point, but I did not regret pushing myself to the next torture session. I am currently having difficulty walking, but I am feeling GREEAAAAAAT (and happy).

I’m pretty sure that I no longer have any toxins left in my body, in fact, I probably have negative toxins.  It is definitely safe to say that I sweat out every single beer I drank in college.

Don’t worry,  I plan on replenishing soon.