Pretzel, Anyone?

So, I understand that Bikram Yoga is not specific to Richmond, but I feel compelled to share my experience since my first encounter with Bikram took place here.

Now, I consider myself to be a fairly fit person. I’m not going to win any speed races or bodybuilding competitions, but I do work out on a regular basis and I would not call myself a stranger to the yoga mat.

My super foster family practices Bikram Yoga regularly. “You must try it,” they said. “You’ll love it,” they exclaimed. “You’ll do great,” they added.

Did I “do great”? No.

Did I “love it”? No again.

Must I have tried it? Well, I’m no expert on life’s necessities, but I probably could have gone an entire lifetime without it.

Does my attitude toward Bikram make me feel like a weenie? Perhaps, but I will say the people with whom I endured those 95 minutes (don’t try and pretend like it was 90 minutes as the schedule said – I can read time) are warriors. The sweatiest, most focused warriors I have ever encountered.

Allow me to recreate the circumstances that led me to my conclusions. Before class I met with the instructor who gave me some pointers. They may sound like stern rules to the inexperienced, but she assured me they were just helpful hints:

• Do not leave the room during the entire 90 minutes (ahem, 95 minutes) for any reason. I could feel my tiny bladder tensing up with anxiety.
  
• You may feel dizzy during your first session, so when that happens, sit or lie down on your mat and wait for it to pass. WHEN that happens?
• Don’t wipe the sweat from your face or drink any water for the first 25 minutes of class. The salty beads were already accumulating on my forehead.
  
• No talking. Hahahahaahahahaa! Oh, seriously??

I was getting nervous. This was going to be a challenge.

As we walked from the locker room to class, my friend examined my measly 24 oz. of water and let me know I should have invested in a bigger bottle. I could only pray that I would be passed out in a corner before thirst set in.

Walking inside the yoga room, I was assaulted by heavy, musty, cumbersome heat. It felt like someone had thrown a king-sized blanket recently drawn from a boiling cauldron of peanut butter over my body. It seriously must have been 120 degrees, though the thermostat only read up to 99.

We sat down without a word and class began shortly after. “Ninety minutes,” I coached myself. I can do this for 90 minutes. And I did. Ninety five, actually, in case you missed that detail. I twisted and stretched and bent my back in ways I never thought possible. I balanced and reached and probably lost about five pounds of water weight by the time it was all said and done.

I could possibly improve if I chose to attend class a second time. But as long as I live in America, I just don’t think that’s going to happen.

Mother’s Day is rapidly approaching, people

It’s a well known fact that no matter what your age or how creatively stunted you may be, your mother with always, ALWAYS cherish a hand-made crafts project from her perfect little angel. I have discovered a place you can go that will cover all manner of creative inadequacies and will afford you, precious angels, the ability to give your mother the greatest gift ever. It is called All Fired Up, “Richmond’s Original Paint Your Own Ceramics Studio.” getallfiredup.com

You can select from one of its many pre-made ceramic pieces or craft your own in the wet clay studio. Next, you choose your paint colors. And finally, you create the best Mother’s Day present ever. The glazing process takes about a week, and the final products are food safe and (I think) dishwasher safe.

I am, to put it lightly, hopelessly incompetent in the art department. I can construct a grammatically correct sentence faster than you can say “eats, shoots and leaves,” but painting and drawing have never been my strong suits. The pressure was on, but I was quickly engrossed.

It was fun, therapeutic and well worth the reasonable cost. The only thing that would have made it more enjoyable is if there had been wine involved. But I suppose alcohol in a ceramics studio is never a good idea.

My Super Foster Family

Did I mention my fantastic living situation? I’m staying with some long-time family friends who have generously offered to put me up until I can stand on my own. They are the nicest, most laid back people you will ever meet. Plus, we share the common trait of loving a good time.

Kate and Liza are around the same age as I am and we’ve enjoyed family beach trips together since we were wee ones. The best part: they grew up in the city and know just about everything there is to know, plus they currently live here and appreciate Richmond as adults. This is all to say I am a very lucky girl because I have built-in tour guides who enjoy laughter every bit as much as I do.

In a Nutshell

Aside from the requisite day of shopping on Cary Street (the greatest place on earth), we also went to a Richmond Flying Squirrels baseball game last Saturday. It was a blast and a great way to kick off my first weekend in town - bright lights, crisp air, $2 hot dogs, healthy competition, cute guys in uniforms, and the biggest, coldest beers in all the land. Oh, and BONUS: the Flying Squirrels reigned victorious! If you haven’t had the pleasure of cheering on the Squirrels, it’s time to grab your foam finger and head out to the ball park.

In The Beginning

I’ve spent the last six years on Florida’s Treasure Coast, a beautiful, sleepy cluster of beach communities with plenty of fine dining opportunities and pristine golf courses – perfect for any retiree looking to relax, enjoy the beach, and do not much else. It was great while it lasted. But something has occurred to me recently: I’m 28 years old, and I’m not ready to retire.

Last Friday I moved to Richmond, Virginia. I am excited about what the city has to offer socially and professionally. Already I’ve had to stop myself from smiling goofily while watching all the pretty young people go by. If you saw a day-dreaming fool with her tongue hanging out of her mouth last Saturday in Carytown, I’m very sorry. It’ll sink in eventually, but for now I’m just soaking up the style, the people, the fashion, the attitude and all the beautiful sites.