Recently my local yoga studio sent me an infoletter offering new aerial yoga classes.  I rolled my eyes but then looked at the picture and was like “Damn that looks hot!” So I signed up imagining that I would learn to be hot AF in the air.  I psyched myself up mentally and walked in to the class that afternoon and eagerly awaited to what was going to be my flying experience.  Being a reluctant participant in hot yoga lessons, I figured this might actually help me out with some of the poses.  Maybe I wouldn’t have to work so hard to stay balanced in the air. Or better yet, maybe in the air I would have more space to myself and not have someone nearly sitting on my yoga matt panting for air and dripping in sweat.  And well let’s add that it sort of defeats the purpose of learning to breathe and be in a calm state when you have someone’s nasty foot in your face.  Not to mention I wish some people would realize that their yoga pants are see through as hell and I think I can see your entire intestinal tract.  But at least my husband gets some benefit when I do the bend over check test with him.

Back to the aerial class here…the class began with a lot of warnings (I should have figured something was up right then and there and checked out) and the instructor talking to us about how to clip in safely and how to appropriately get in and out of the “hammock”  My eyebrow lifted as she mentioned that the area below the hip bones would feel squeezed and uncomfortable and that our body may be screaming at some point because of the squeeze.  Umm how much squeezing are we doing here exactly, I wondered.

Despite this I carried on once again reassuring myself that if I can squat and deadlift 200 pounds this was going to be smooth sailing.  And so I increased the height of my hammock from the floor, climbed in with ease and sailed back and forth.  I even played around for a bit lifting my body weight higher using my arms.  We did some simple forward poses and Shavasana and a few minutes later, the instructor stopped us and got to the inversions.  She was excellent and thorough with her verbal instructions and modeling yet despite this I started to get cold feet watching. I shook it off got into my hammock or peice of fabric.  With her guidance I ignored the feeling that I was dislocating my thighs from the rest of my body to get my legs in position for the next critical move.  I squirmed for some time like a fat caterpillar until I suspended myself completely upside down and hung.  The yoga instructor squealed with delight and walked away.  And it all went to hell at this point.  I felt the blood drain from parts of my body and my stomach lurch.  I tried to fixate on my breathing but I think I stopped breathing.  I tried to focus my eyes on the same object but I was swaying.  I mustered enough energy to pull myself back upright, made eye contact with the instructor and assumed I was green because she ran over to me peppermint oil and all.  She rubbed it on my wrists and put it in my water.  I tried to listen to her instruction  but her voice seemed so distant as I focused on keeping whatever food was in me in my belly and not on her feet.  I wanted to run out but knew I would likely faceplant from the dizziness and I cursed that I would be rude as I was still 30 minutes away from namaste.  

The remainder of the class I had to spend back in a lazy ass Shavasana in my hammock trying to not puke.  I looked around me and observed in the dimmed lights many of the women that hung eloquently.  In my moment of bitterness I had to remind myself I was being judgemental and unkind when thinking, “She must be a stripper” or “she can do that because she only weighs five pounds” or the moment where I looked over at the professional acrobat and thought, “Ughhh f— you”.  All bitterness aside, respect to those who can handle it but ask anyone who knows me well, I am not graceful and I can be pretty clumsy.  Not to mention I get carsick super easily and get overcome with nausea on a damn seesaw.  As I left the class, the instructor asked if I got easily queasy and couldn’t handle rides (does a swing set count?) but reassured me that I should try again.

That night, six hours later I still felt queasy and signed into my yoga account to cancel all other upcoming reservations in aerial fail.  I re-packed my weight lifting and boxing gear concluding that being folded like a pretzel and suspended upside down in mid air is not for this faint of tummy. Namaste.

 

 

Photo credit to: http://www.performancepilates.com.au/portfolio-posts/antigravity-yoga/