Midway into the session, I noticed that my hair is soaking wet, like I had just taken a shower or jumped into the pool. As the sweat trickles off my nose, chin, forehead, and onto the mat beneath me, I think to myself, I can't recall a time when exercise really got me to sweat to this extent.
Awhile back my friend from Singapore, Joy, told me that yoga is great for building long lean muscles without the bulk of traditional weight training. I am all about adding variety to my workout. And I have never done yoga before, so I gladly accepted the invitation from the studio to attend a free class.
Midtown is somewhat new to me, yet the closer I was to the studio the easier it was to see how close it was from Escobar. I was the first student to arrive Saturday morning to a HotYoga Studio.
I picked up an undertone of anger or frustration from the practiced introduction the hostess gave me, as she guided me through the check in process. Perhaps she stayed up late the previous night. It's early. It's her job. I don't know. I recognized the hostess behind the register as the owner of the studio. Her resemblance to the photo she posted of herself is small. Her hair obstructed view of her face; it was taken at a side angle, her skin is darker, her hair is darker, make-up free, and that straight face didn't flatter her.
I never knew there was so much etiquette involved in attending a yoga class. I take off my shoes, enter the yoga room, grab a mat, and find a place in the empty room. The room is warm and humid, the temperature increases the longer I stay in the room. I lay down my towel and water bottle and head outside for temporary relief of the heat.
Students now fill the lobby, checking in, taking off their shoes, walking to and fro from the locker room. I sat down next to one of the instructors, who felt totally at ease chatting with me. Before I know it, it's time for the class to start. I head back into the hot room.
The owner that was previously covered from head to toe in a monochromatic navy blue exercise set is now wearing a trendy provocative white sports bra and skin tight teal capris. Her figure is exquisite. She's slender, oddly enough, something about her figure reminds me of a praying mantis. LOL The owner is alot cuter of course, without extra limbs.
The class begins with stretching exercises, some old some new. As it progresses, the task of sustaining movements, flexibility, and balance for periods of time becomes grueling given the speed and duration of time. The class lasted about an hour; it felt like it was an hour and a half. I have never sweated that much from exercising.
At certain points of stretching I feel how sore my abs are. I'm doing much better than I was a day ago. The HotYoga definitely increased my heart rate and exercised my abs. I will try hot yoga again though.
It's 8:00am. I am ready to swim. Beyond the door leading into the pool is an unexpected surprise-- senior citizen aquarobics. There really is no way to avoid it. The water inside the hot tub is calm and free of bubbles, no steam insight. Do I really look like I am going to the sauna with my swimsuit on? Of course not, the goggles in hand give it away.
The last time I did aquarobics was months ago. It wasn't intense, a low impact form of exercise. I really don't have much alternatives. I came to swim. Before I could figure out what to do next, the instructor makes eye contact with me. She invites me to join them. With 8 or 9 seniors waiting for my response, I give into senior pressure.
Julie, the dance instructor, treats me like a guest, making sure I understand the movements. She is so inviting and kind. I feel welcome. I suppose I have stored up enough of good karma to have good treatment from others when I am the newbie.
MaryAnn .... Something about her nature, tone of voice, sincerity, just screams sweet person. I really enjoyed the exercise, and the conversation with the swimmers. We talked about countries, culture, and history all over exercise.
To jog in place, we each grab a set of strofoam dumbbells. Lifting them up and down inside the water alternating hands in such a way that when one hand is rising the other is falling. The larger the dumbells the heavier it becomes in the water. I move up and down as fast as I can, I was surprised by the resistance is generates after many repetitions. I could feel the lactic acid build in my arms, must not have been breathing enough. Julie offers me lighter dumbells, and I accept.
Julie compliments my smile. And gives me her business card. She wants to help me find a job; she asks me to email her. Networking at a swimming lesson wasn't on the plan, but I am glad she extended the offer.
30 minutes into my workout, I navigate through my heart rate monitor settings to see how many calories I have burned. It read 157 calories. That's odd, the elliptical machine says I have burned 321 calories. The difference is significant. The discrepancy sparks a dilema. Which source should I believe?
My heart rate monitor is made by Polar. They seem to be a leading figure and a respectable name in the fitness world. Based on their reputation for high quality accurate products, the heart rate monitor results are credible. I will call Polar about my predicament.
The gym machines whether eliptical crosstrainers or regular elipticals seem to agree that I am burning twice as many calories than what my heart rate monitor estimates. Online calculators (where I key in exercise duration and my personal stats) have sided with the gym machine estimates. Still part of me isn't satisfied.
I want to know the truth. I am going to conduct an experiment. For the next month, I will believe what the gym machine says. When it says, I have reached my daily goal. I am off the machine.
Saturday, January 31st is picture day! I want to take tons of pictures on the last day of each month, to help me track my progress.
With my towel, goggles, and water bottle in hand, I enter into the swimming pool area of the gym. The steam from the sauna swirls above the hot water, showing how hot the water is and how cold the surrounding air is. I spotted the stairs into the pool on the opposite side of where I stood. I power walk to the other side, hoping no one stares at my tummy while I make my way into the pool.
The first few steps into the pool, you'd be tempted to think that the water is lukewarm. Reaching the third step, I realize it's far from luke warm; it is freezing cold. Entering the pool is a chilly step by step process, I cross my arms, vainly hoping it will increase my resistance to the cold water. Just like I tug on the bandaid slowly, rather than ripping it off in one swoop, I prefer not to dive in and swim immediately.
I dread feeling cold water on my chest. David's splashing and kicking, on the far end of the pool, is a reminder that it is time to bite the bullet. Plunge. It is so cold, yet I now feel comfortable in the water. It's so hard to assimilate initially.
David's hand's on instruction, demonstrations, and observation have worked. My form is improving alot these days. I still have aways to go; it's tricky to have good form. Left arm, right arm, left arm exhale into the water, right arm up inhale, and kick all the time. It is a whole new way of breathing. It's a new way of moving through the water, faster than swimming under the water and doggie-paddle style.
He's like a machine in the water; he doesn't even stop moving his arms when he comes up for air. I also noticed that when he presses against the wall at the end of the lap; he immediately starts using his arms to propel him forward rather than just gliding from his impulse. Today, he still maintained the lead, but I was close behind. I swam 800 meters today. I am so proud of that!