Is Bikram Choudry Available to Babysit?

I have been accused of taking up new sports or activities simply so that I can have an excuse to shop for new clothes and gear for that sport or activity. I am not sure that is accurate but I will say that yoga clothes are pretty darn cute.

I recently started going to Bikram Yoga on a regular basis. My first Bikram Yoga class was when my son was 5. That would be 7 years ago if my math is right. Damn I’m getting old. Anyway, I would never have gone had it not been for my law firm at the time deciding that we all needed a little stress relief. A Bikram Yoga studio had just opened in Reno. They gave every employee class cards for 10 classes at a time and I figured I would give it a try. I honestly don’t remember much about my first class or the 20 classes I took back then. I remember it was hot. I remember that I had spots on my face for about a week. I later found out those spots were the bad toxins in my system working their way out of my polluted body. I guess that’s a good thing. My Bikram Yoga career was tragically short. I was a newly single mom to a kindergartener. I was working full time. I was fat and didn't know how essential exercise was to a healthy life. I didn’t exactly have a lot of time for 90 minutes of yoga on a regular basis. Now Bikram says things like “If you don’t have time in your life for yoga, change your life.” I thought at the time, "Yeah right Bikram…are you available to baby-sit?"

I returned to Bikram Yoga at the urging of my best friend Krista about two years ago. I had just given up martial arts and was looking for a sport where people weren’t always trying to hit me. No one tries to put you in an arm bar at yoga. There are no thai kicks, no roundhouses to the head, no body jabs. I love that about yoga. But I digress… I was hooked again. I went faithfully about 5-6 days a week. I lost a lot of weight and felt better about myself and life than I had in a long time. I bought the special super cute towel with the grippers that fits perfectly on your mat and doesn’t make your feet slip. Although based on a recent lecture from Stefan I realize that these towels may be a form of cheating. Something to do with a lack of inner thigh strength? I’m not sure but the towels are so cute that I have 3. I kept it up for a good 5 months. I was faithful. I was devoted. My heart belonged to Bikram Choudry. Then, of course, my life got in the way. My son, 11 at the time, needed surgery (nothing major but when it is your kid it is always major) and once again I thought to myself, “if you don’t have time for yoga in your life, change your life”. Again I thought to myself, “Ok Bikram, are you available to sit at the hospital or on the couch watching a sick kid?” That’s what I thought…

The thing with Bikram Yoga is once you get out of the routine, it is really hard to go back. You know after being gone a while the weird spots will come back on your face. The excruciating headache will return in the dreaded Camel pose. You know that the triangle really sucks when you haven’t been there for a while. And then there is the thought that those super cute yoga shorts just might not be as cute on you after a yoga hiatus.

Fast forward to November of 2010. I was driving in the car and literally said to myself, “I need to go to hot yoga”. It was the strangest thing. I knew I needed to go. I knew. I said to my boyfriend “I can feel the pollution in my brain, in my blood, pulsing through my body. I’m a big fat polluted person!”

The very next day I found my way back to Bikram Yoga. One pair of my super cute yoga shorts still fit so I put them on, took a deep breath and went back to the mat. I will admit that I was a little crushed when one of my favorite teachers didn’t remember me (thanks Barry) but, I suppose, that’s what I get for being unfaithful.

I have been faithfully going to Bikram Yoga 4-5 times a week. I long for the day that I can do a 30 day challenge and go everyday. But for now, I have enough challenges in my life. I look forward to seeing Susana (the cutest little thing ever) with a different yoga outfit for everyday of the week. Where does she shop? Must be on-line. My heart smiles when Eric is the teacher because he recites poetry at the end. Eric is the only person in my life who recites poetry. How great is that! Stefan scares me a little bit because he gave a pretty hash lecture about the hazards of cheating by moving your towel so you feet don’t slip. Apparently Bikram doesn’t like cheaters. But I like his tattoos and his sense of humor when he isn’t being a yoga hard ass.

I know Bikram Choudry sometimes gets a bad rap. He is frowned on for having too many cars and living a lavish lifestyle in Beverly Hills. He is condemned, in essence, for shopping too much. Seriously? He is questioned for his decision to copyright his yoga postures. The attorney in me is all for copyrights. Why wouldn’t he do everything he can to have his intellectual property protected? Bikram Yoga is accused of not being “real yoga”. Well it feels real to me in the middle of the balancing stick in 105 degree heat.

I am committed for the long run. I no longer need Bikram to baby-sit because my son is growing up way too fast. My cute shorts all fit again. I’m not spotted like a leopard because a fair amount of my polluted soul has been cleaned. The headaches have gone away. I still dread the camel pose but I know someday soon I will look forward to it. I actually love the heat. I admire my fellow yogis that show up everyday. Eric’s poetry makes my heart happy. This is definitely about more than having an excuse to buy new clothes and gear. This is a lifestyle thing. I’m in it for the long haul…cute shorts, cute towels and all.

The Lady Bug and The Chardonnay

I love ladybugs. Lady bugs are good luck and they always cheer me up. They seem to be attracted to me as well. They land on me when I am running. I find them on my car. I even recently met a very lucky little ladybug on the sand in Santa Monica. Let me tell you the story of how I came to find this little ladybug.

My best friend Krista and I took a much needed vacation to Santa Monica for a long weekend. We went under the guise of running a half marathon. In all fairness, we did in fact sign up to run a half marathon. The 13.1 Half Marathon-Los Angeles to be specific. We had our cab driver take us to the “expo”. Our cab driver was an LA cholo who decided mid cab ride that he needed to introduce us to a new comedian. We listened for 5 minutes to vulgar cursing and racial slurs before there was even a joke. Meanwhile our cab driver is yelling out the window to people standing on the corners. “Hey Brittany” was especially memorable. We left our belongings with the cab driver while we ran into the cute running store to get our shirts and race numbers. Too bad we were so worried about our stuff in the cab that we couldn’t shop. That store had some cute stuff. Finally, off to the hotel for some pool time and resting up for our big run.

We really did have every intention of running the half marathon until two glasses of Chardonnay at the hotel pool brought the utter foolishness of our goals into focus. We thought about it while we walked along the beach. It was weighing heavily on our minds while we rode the roller coaster on Santa Monica Pier. Finally the answer came to us over dinner. Our discussion went something like this:

“You know, it’s going to take a long time to run 13 miles.”

“I do know, at least 2 and a half hours.”

“And we have to walk to the start and back to the hotel from the finish. That’s another hour right there”.

“That is three hours we won’t be able to spend at the beach.”

“Right. And really, you’ve been sick, and I’ve been…well stressed…and it will take more like 3 hours to run the half marathon.”

“Don’t forget the one hour of walking to the start and finish.”

“But we already got the green shirts that say we ran a half marathon”.

“No one will ever know. Well except for our race numbers that say we are running the half marathon.”

“We will wear t-shirts over those numbers so no one will know.”

“What about the pictures?”

“We will hold our shirts up to show the numbers when we see the photographers.”

“What about the medals?”

“We won’t take the medals…that would be wrong.”

“Right. It will probably take more like 3 and a half hours to run 13 miles…God that sounds far.”

“Plus the hour walk back and forth to the hotel”.

“That’s like half the day we won’t be able to spend at the beach OR the hotel pool”.

“Ok. Let’s do the 5K.”

“Ok. The 5K”.

“But we have to get up and do the 5K”.

“We will…I’m getting another Chardonnay.”

We did get up and run the 5K. In our defense, it was at least a 2 mile walk to the start. On a shameful note, we did in fact take the medals for the half marathon even though we knew it was wrong. We actually convinced the sweet little teenaged volunteer from big brothers and big sisters to give us the medals even though we ran only the 5K and the 5K does not really earn you a medal. We used our finely honed skills of persuasion, we are lawyers after all, and convinced her that we had in fact paid for those medals and the fact that we were sick and well…stressed…were unforeseen circumstances. Therefore, we should have medals anyway. She conceded. Damn we are good! We do plan to white out the one of the 13 and then it will be accurate. And we did pay for them.

We had a fabulous guilt free day at the beach with chardonnay. Lots of it. I take the lady bug as a sign that we made the responsible and right decision. I mean, if we had run the half marathon, however would we have had the energy to walk the 2 miles back to Venice Beach to buy art from homeless, toothless, criminals. No one should ever miss that. Admittedly I was reluctant. Beach vendors are kind of scary to me and what was that strange fog hanging over the entirety of the boardwalk. What was that smell? Well after about 10 minutes, my reluctance faded away and there was street art that I just could not live without. Everyone needs a cat holding a grenade for their 12 year old son. Who can resist the “don’t f*&% with me I’m a goddess” painting. And Ra Ra Superstar? The man has displayed his art in Tokyo for Christ’s sake. We started to question the wisdom of even the 5k when we realized we had to walk back to the hotel…again…with all of our art. Thank god for vodka. It always comes through just when you think all hope is lost. Just when you think you can’t go on. Just when you want to sit down and cry…you have some vodka and can trudge on through the trenches of hell. 2 pink pussycats (vodka, lemonade, and pomegranate) and we were on our way.

We made it back to the hotel in time for more wine and the golden globes. We had a fabulous time swooning over Colin Firth. I think Krista actually cried when the camera paned to him in the crowd but I’m not sure. At the end of the Golden Globes we were exhausted. I was shocked when I looked up and saw Krista’s smiling face asking expectantly “Kiki…do you want to go to the hot tub? Hot tub? Hot tub?”. Fortunately I declined and we both were asleep within six minutes.

At the end of our trip we found t-shirts that summed up the entire experience. Our shirts say “Running Sucks” in frilly sparkly font. The girls at the Nike store must have thought we were freaks as we giggled through the store with our fabulous shirts.

You might wonder if I have any regrets about this weekend. I am, after all, an avid runner. I have run countless half marathons. I’m a runner damnit. Well, I have no regrets. I had a great time. I have a great friend. I had some chardonnay. I met a new ladybug. And we would not have had the much needed beach time if we had in fact run the half marathon. It would have taken at least 5 hours after all. Plus the hour walk to and from…