Now, I usually don't work out when I'm sick. Because seriously when you've got a built-in excuse, you use it. And also, your white blood cells are working overtime to fight off the germs and that has to be calories, right? I can't even remember the saying--I feed a fever and a cold, and I don't work out.
But I had to go to LA in a week and a half for a press junket. And I really didn't want to sit in a room full of movie stars not having invested every possible second in Looking As Good As Possible. I know one day or another of working out or not working out isn't going to make a 10-pound difference, but welcome to modern-lady insecurity central. I wasn't about to pound out a kickboxing class, but maybe I should go to yoga?
I mean, I wasn't exactly English-Patient-watching levels of sick. And, yoga, especially hot yoga, is supposed to wring toxins out of your body (although, how those toxins didn't get wrung out before they had a chance to do any damage is anyone's guess, I had been doing pretty much daily wringings at the time; they must have been quick little bugs).
And yes, the glorious humidifier. A good power vinyasa class will get up to around 40-50 percent humidity, and open the hell out of your sinuses. People sniffle when they aren't even sick. And I figured 10 bucks or so for a yoga class is cheaper than buying my own humidifier [it is], and also would one even work in my apartment? It's one room, but it's a pretty open floorplan. All I had to do was show up, and I'd get a glorious 75 minutes with the humidifier to use however I wanted. Yoga is great like that--the whole do-what-your-body-tells-you-ness of it all means there's never anyone yelling at you to push yourself like a personal trainer or spinning teacher is wont to do, and you could literally just lie there on the mat for the whole time and no one would say a word. I could skate through taking the easy route.
But we all know Miss A-Plus For Life Club was never going to do that.
Which might have worked out a little better if the teacher wasn't HARD AS HELL. I have never had to hold a low pushup for so long in my entire life. I had never been to her class before, so I didn't know that it would be Non. Stop. Pummeling. Which I would love on any day when my only class intention was something other than: "Live." I've never spent so much time trying not to collapse in arm poses. I've never spent so much time trying not to fall down! Although that could have been sinus-related inner-ear malfunctions...
You know how, sometimes when you're in a really hard pose and you're trying to stay there and breathe in the same rhythm as the teacher who is invariably NOT in said pose? And you do a very un-yogi-like thing and wish horrible things on them? This was one of those nights. I decided this person was a sadist who was enjoying my suffering and How Dare She.
And what a day to be told that you've been doing eagle pose wrong your entire life! Especially by a teacher who insists on holding you up to adjust you when your only thought is
"please, please let me go I just want to fall down on the floor right now AND DIE please just LET ME DIEEEEEEEEEE."
Obviously I did not die. But, man, I barely survived. With snot all over my towel, which, ugh, gross. But two days later I was all better! So, the lesson is, definitely GO if you want the heat and moisture to wring you out and drain everything and open you up. But know what you're in for!
Although you're allowed for wishing horrible things to befall your sadist teacher because, hey, you're a sick person.
Image: Ambro / FreeDigitalPhotos.net
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