Lots of people want to know about the health benefits of Bikram Yoga or how it compares to other yoga paths, or why Bikram Choudhrey is so crazy. But mostly, people want to know about the gross stuff. You put some twenty yogis in a 105-degree room, tell them to wear virtually no clothing and have them finagle their bodies into compromising positions and, yeah, you’ve got a situation ripe with potential for gross stuff. Here’s my take on some of the questions I’ve been asked over the years. And, yes, this is going to be a serious overshare.
How Much Is Too Much Sweat?
No such thing as too much sweat to a Bikram yogi. On most days, I’ll sweat through all my yoga clothing and walk out with a totally soaked-through head of hair. We lay down towels on top of our mats to prevent slippage and keep it all a little more clean, and on a good day — when the temperature and humidity is just right and the teacher has been consistent but not overly leniant with letting in fresh air — those are usually about 75% soaked.
Yes, It Smells
The smell is one of the first things that turn people off of Bikram. As soon as you step in the studio, it hits you and some people, well, they can’t take it. Me, I think it really just smells like a musty, poorly ventilated room but I have heard it described as a cross between moldy carpet and B.O. I’ll admit that’s not entirely inaccurate, particularly in an older studio that hasn’t replaced its rug in forever. But you know, you just get used to it.
Kicking the Sh!@ Out of Your Body **
Part of what brings about so many of the health benefits associated with yoga in general is the “release of toxins.” The bad stuff that builds up in your body gets jostled out of its hiding places and sweated out… or released in some other way that does not happen in the room. Now I’m not a doctor so don’t get all medical on me. The exact physiology of this escapes me. But it does make sense that as you twist and contort your body, you are contorting and stretching your organs and damming and releasing the flow of blood. And this helps with better circulation and better digestion. And That, my friends, is what keeps the doctor away.
Getting Out the Way of Other People’s Sh!@
All of that releasing of toxins feels great. But what isn’t so great is that the other people around you are also releasing their toxins. In less-crowded classes, you can cop a whole swatch of rug to yourself and go an entire class undisturbed by other people’s smells and sweating. But come on this is New York not [fill in a middle of America city here, I don't want to offend any one constituency] and Bikram Yoga — despite all this gross stuff! — is really popular. Most classes are crowded and the thing is, there’s much better energy when we’re packed in like sardines:
Anyway, crowded classes can mean that there’s only a few inches of space between your mat and the dude next to you. And the dude next to you might be A Smelly One.
To be honest, at this point nothing really bothers me anymore, but I have learned to spot A Smelly One from across the room. The usual suspects: old men in loose-fitting, bathing-suit material shorts (the shorts get bunchy and don’t flick off sweat the way more spandexy things do; nothing against old men doing yoga, they’re just the ones who typically sport those kinds of trunks); men or women with especially thick hair and/or dreadlocks; and women in makeup (if you’re wearing makeup to yoga, you’re generally wearing perfume, too, and pefume can be just as bad as other smells).
It’s Just Sweat
And this leads me to the Number One Ick Factor for a lot of people, which is that when you take Bikram Yoga, the likelihood is that you will get sweated on by someone else. Guy next to you does a particularly vigorous sit-up, and you get a sweat spray. Teacher walks by and adjusts your posture, with his or her sweaty hands. Class ends and people start filing out while you’re trying to chill in savasana, and drip, drip drip. The class is intended to be a 90-minute moving meditation, and the sweat — yours and not-yours — is simply a discomfort you learn to overcome.
So there’s my basic take on the gross stuff about Bikram. The amazing thing is that you come to love all of these things about the practice. When I was at Bikram headquarters in Los Angeles, I read this on a poster there: “You have to go through hell to get to heaven.” In Bikram-speak that just means: “Suck it up you wuss. This is worth it.”
30-Day Challenge Status: 10 classes down, 20 to go.
** A note on my non-use of the s-word. I don’t know why. New York Magazine uses it. But the Journal doesn’t, of course, and I guess Paul Martin really has gotten that far into my head.
