Paschimottanasana-- what??

I have defied all things status quo and have signed up for a bikram yoga class.
Rebellious, I know.

Case in point:







I don't exercise. Except, now I do! Take THAT lazy body of mine.

I will admit, bikram yoga was probably not a great idea. I'm an amateur at walking. I have no experience with regular yoga. Hot yoga kicks my ass. But BIKRAM yoga? A whole nother level. Yikes.

 My best friend Kayla and I signed up for Bikram yoga our junior year of high school (four whole years ago). I found a coupon for $40 unlimited monthly access to the yoga studio. How could I say no? I couldn't. So, I convinced Kay to sign up with me. We made it through one session and never came back. A tip to those marketing exercise coupons: it works. Keep it up. People have way too much faith in their ability to persevere. People also give up really easily. I paid $40 for one 90-minute yoga session. Hot yoga studio: 1. Nhaca: 0.

But apparently I don't learn my lesson. Last week I was snooping around on Groupon (I have an unhealthy obsession with Groupon. But that's a post for another day) when I found an incredible Groupon: $35 for 10 yoga classes at the same yoga studio that Kay and I went to four years ago. $3.50 a class? How could I say no? I couldn't. I called up Kay, and the very next day we went to our second ever bikram yoga class.

Bikram Yoga Bellevue is literally around the corner from my house, which is convenient. It's a nice little place equipped with showers and yoga mats and deafening zen-like silence that I assume characterizes all yoga places. Kay and I exchanged "if you don't give up, I won't either" looks of encouragement before entering the yoga room.

Dim lights. 105 degrees. 40% humidity. Shirtless old men stretching.
GET ME OUT OF HERE.

But the first rule to bikram yoga is that you're not allowed to leave before the 90 minutes are up. Oh boy.

Posture after posture. Tangling my limbs like a pretzel. Sweat dripping everywhere. Nearly passing out from heat exhaustion. Dehydration. Dizziness. Nausea.

 But I did it! I survived! Somehow! And when I left the room, the cool air outside hit me like an avalanche, and I felt empowered. I smiled. I laughed with Kayla.

And of all things unreasonable and insane: I'm going back tomorrow.

Hot yoga: 1
Nhaca: 1

Graphic of Wisdom

Via: Medical Billing And Coding

Unrealistic Goals that will become a Reality. You just gotta Force it.

My goal this summer: to run.

The honest-to-God-truth: I suck at running.

By suck, I mean I can't run a mile without feeling as though my heart is going to burst out of my chest, without my knees aching and my throat closing up. I'm just not athletic. This tiny body you see? 100% because of the magical midget Asian genes bestowed upon me at birth. 0% to do with working out in any sense of the word.

My friends know this well.

Me: Yo, dinner?
Friend: Yeah, in an hour? I need to hit up the gym.
Me: ... WHO ARE YOU? Why do you exist?

Contrary to popular belief, this disdain for exercise does not come from me believing that I'm above it. I'm not proud of the fact that a 50-year-old man in too-tight jogging shorts passed me twice on my run this morning and had the audacity to smile the second time. No, this disdain comes from a very ugly and all-too-human emotion: fear of failure. I do not exercise because I am no good at it. I fear that by putting on my running shorts (who am I kidding? I do not own running shorts. Let me amend this to: by putting on my shorts sans the running prefix) and dusting off my running shoes (these I do own, purchased years ago in a misguided attempt to 'shape up') I will go to the gym, get on the treadmill, and fail.

I'll pass out after 15 minutes.
People will laugh at me.
I must be doing it wrong.
My mother runs faster than I do.
Goodness I look stupid doing this.
What if what if what if???

Yeah, what if? Life is full of these 'what ifs' and if I hadn't challenged them to the breaking point I would not be where I am today. This is why I run. Not because I want to be athletic (I never will be) or because I want a stellar hot bod (okay, I do want this, but that's not the point). I am running this summer because I have recognized running as something I have always wanted to integrate into my life but have always been too afraid to do due to fear of failure.

To this fear I now can only say one thing: BRING.IT.ON.

Each morning I step out of the shower completely naked, no make-up, hair a stringy mess, and I look at myself straight in the eye. I don't smile, I don't laugh, I don't reach for my towel. I say, completely serious: "You the sh*t." I am THE SHIT. And people who are the shit can do whatever the hell they want. Including running.

If I, a 20-year-old Vietnamese-American, born on a rice-paddy in rural Vietnam, raised in an impoverished community in North Seattle, can not only say this out loud but believe it, so can you.

Follow me this summer as I run. As I sign up for a Bikram Yoga course (eek!). As I spend some serious quality time with my crazy family. As I eat sushi. As I try not to go insane in rainy Seattle.  If you have any questions: ask away!