Hot Fun in the City

I celebrated the summer solstice, the longest day of the year, with 14,000 people. The Times Square Alliance advertised “mind over madness yoga: anyone can find tranquility on top of a mountain; can you find it in the middle of Times Square?” Yoga classes were offered from 7 am till 7 pm outdoors in the epicenter of our hectic city. Intrigued, I registered for a free class. Certified yoga instructors were requested as volunteer “spotters” and would receive a free new yoga outfit to wear and keep. “Free” is a hook that attracts me, so I joined up for that, too.

I chose Bikram, hot yoga normally practiced in a room heated to 105 degrees. I’d never wanted to try this type of yoga since the idea of exercising in an enclosed room filled with sweaty people makes me nauseous. But I thought how bad can it be if it’s done outdoors, which can’t be heated up to the required temperature. It was funny that nature acquiesced and provided a 100 degree day with barely a breeze. Actually participating in the class under the beating sunshine was not going to be so amusing.

Waiting on the Woodmere platform for the train to the city had all us prospective passengers dripping in sweat while standing still. I rode in with the Wednesday matinee theatergoers, who were enduring the stifling heat but looking forward to a cool dark theater. I speed walked up Broadway to my check-in point to pick up a free yoga mat for the noontime class. When I arrived they had run out, but handed me a body length piece of cardboard and a cold water bottle.

I found one of the last shady spots in the pedestrian areas designated for the happening. Waiting with the packed crowd of yoga enthusiasts for the session to begin, we chatted excitedly about the heat and the turnout. There was a wonderful sense of camaraderie in our supposedly impersonal city. A very pregnant participant sitting behind me sympathized about my lack of a mat and wanted to lend me her clean towel. I declined initially but she insisted I would need it, so I soon accepted her kind offer.

The asphalt was transferring heat through my cardboard and towel right into my body. As the sun moved westward it peeked out from its hidden spot behind the skyscrapers then shone full force on Broadway. Bikram yoga practitioners welcomed the heat with cheers. I got sweatier and nervous about the challenging class ahead. I had already downed one water bottle and had only one in reserve. The teacher, Rajashree, wife of founder Bikram Choudhury, arrived at the podium and commenced the largest Bikram class in history.

Bikram yoga is a series of 26 poses and breathing exercises completed in a specific order in exactly ninety minutes. Many of the poses are simple, some more difficult. It’s the heat that makes it challenging and is meant to stretch muscles more easily and detoxify the body. It is based on the Hatha style which I learned, practice and teach, but is an intense variation. Yogis either love it or hate it. I’m no extremist, but figured I should try it once.

The class progressed and I performed the movements. I liked that they are repeated, since one can go deeper the second time. My heart rate was rising quickly and I could feel my face turning beet red with exertion. I pushed myself but feared passing out anonymously in the middle of Times Square. My water was running low and I noticed people dropping out. I skipped a pose to drink and contemplated quitting. I spotted a portion of pavement becoming shady as the sun continued its westward path and quickly moved there. I was able to continue, finish this class and relax.

As I lay in shavasana, corpse pose, on the midtown street, I gazed up at the clouds moving above. The perimeter of the yoga space was fenced off and covered with leaning, gawking voyeurs amazed by the spectacle. I thought of the billions of bacteria crawling right beside where my body rested and how I would never allow my kids to sprawl like this for fear of germs.

Sirens blared, neon blazed and cameras snapped, but I breathed slowly and evenly. Incredibly and inevitably my heart rate decreased. I felt physically exhausted but mentally charged up from having tried something new. I couldn’t wait to meet up with my friend Alyssa to assist in the next class.

I enjoyed a sense of kinship with the strangers around me. We all came to this happening seeking adventure, excitement, accomplishment, fellowship, harmony. A gathering this large requires leadership, detailed planning and willing participants. Like a flash mob, we joined together for a brief time then dispersed in different directions when it was over. The moment was fleeting yet substantial, becoming another memory in a chain of life experiences. Only the aura remains, filling me with warmth and the desire to repeat it. May the hot spark of the solstice and beautiful summer days sustain us through the next cold dark winter.

Miriam Bradman Abrahams is Cuban born, Brooklyn bred and lives in Woodmere. She organizes author events for Hadassah, reviews books for Jewish Book World and is very slowly writing her father’s immigration story. She is teaching yoga at Peaceful Presence Yoga Studio. mabraha1@optonline.net