Things went from bad to worse about five minutes into the class. A burst of heat from a vent overhead washed over my body, giving me a head rush. I asked teacher if it was any cooler in the front of the class. Her terse response: "It's not even hot yet." Sadly, she was right. As the room took on the temperature of a sauna, the sweat began pouring off everyone's bodies onto the mats and floor. I soon lost track of my breath. I find it hard to stay focused on breathing when I'm just trying not to pass out. I thought about leaving several times but regretfully stuck it out, inserting about a half-dozen child poses into the mix while the rest of the class soldiered on.
It is hard for me to believe that class is anyone's idea of yoga. It wasn't mindful, and I don't think there was ever a mention of breath. To me it was just a sweat box, a glorified exercise class. To be fair, everyone else in the class seemed to love it, even the college-age girl next to me toweling off every 2 seconds and her mother who was trying so hard to keep up with her. I wanted to leave and should have left. And if that ever happens in a class again, I will.