Diary of a Gen Z Student: Hot yoga inspires me to keep cool about new year's resolutions

For now, I enjoy the ability to blend in with all the January beginners. So, while I may not be making many resolutions of my own, I am indebted to those that are. Particularly if those resolutions involve protecting my ego in exercise classes

Jane Cowan: 'I’ve never been one for grand new year’s resolutions. So, while everyone else is planning on repenting for their festive sins for the foreseeable, I will not be lowering my chocolate intake, gravy intake, or whatever it is that people cut down on at this time of year. I wouldn’t know.' Picture: Moya Nolan

Recently I found myself profusely sweating through a downward dog in a hot yoga class.

For some reason that I do not know, these yoga classes heat the room to about 35C. So, you’ll be sliding across your mat before you can say ‘Namaste’.

On this particular occasion, my arms were trembling as I watched sweat drip onto the mat below me. The instructor told everyone to lift their right leg in the air behind them...

Then, we were told to send that right leg towards our left side...

Contorting ourselves into knots until that right foot was planted on the floor on our left side...

Then lift your right hand and stretch it out in front of you...

Your belly button should be facing the ceiling at this point.

This move left me looking like a wilted pretzel. The thought of which left me feeling a little hungry, if I’m honest. Until my sweaty hand slipped and I met my yoga mat, making quite the thump. Not the most zen I’ve been in my life.

I was not blessed with the gift of athleticism. But I do my best all the same. I show up to my yoga classes, Pilates classes, even the odd dalliance with a Smith machine in my university’s gym.

And unlike the ‘new year, new me’ crowd that will be crowding into all the exercise classes for these first few weeks of January, I am in those classes year round. I’ve never been one for grand new year’s resolutions.

So, while everyone else is planning on repenting for their festive sins for the foreseeable, I will not be lowering my chocolate intake, gravy intake, or whatever it is that people cut down on at this time of year. I wouldn’t know.

It’s still winter; the evenings are a long way from a grand stretch; nature is still in hibernation. That tells me that January is not the time to rock the boat. I will be remaining in my pyjamas until March, thank you very much.

Even so, there is a lot to be said for the season of new year’s resolutions. The month of January is a sight to behold in any gym or exercise class. People tripping over on treadmills, knocking themselves out on a yoga mat, collapsing at parkrun.

Jane Cowan: 'The yoga studio is where I find myself most intimidated. I’ll be the youngest one there, the one that should be gliding between warrior poses, not breaking a sweat. But after years of these classes, I know that is not the life I was designed to lead.'

I may sound like I’m judging these people. Really, I am grateful for them. Because I am one of them. I am just not blessed with the excuse that ‘I’m just starting out'.

Year round, I am showing up to these classes and making an utter fool of myself. Falling onto my yoga mat and inhaling my bottle of water, while the gazelle beside me swishes her luscious hair and levitates off her mat.

Most gym regulars scare me. People that can squat more than I weigh? That’s already nuts.

But the yoga studio is where I find myself most intimidated.

I mean, have you ever observed a yoga mom? The strongest women you’ll meet. They’ve produced life, pushed it out of their bodies.

A hot yoga class may be the most difficult experience of my week, what with the token grunting man in the corner, and facing the cold reality that I do not possess upper body strength. But this yoga class is a source of relaxation for these women. Because no exercise will be as difficult as a child throwing up in your bed.

If the army were trying to recruit steely determination, a yoga studio would be the best place to start.

When it’s August and the rate of exercise class attendance has dropped significantly, it will just be me and that grunting man struggling through my weekly yoga classes. I’ll be the youngest one there, the one that should be gliding between warrior poses, not breaking a sweat. But after years of these classes, I know that is not the life I was designed to lead. It doesn’t put me off attending, but it is humbling, nonetheless.

Those classes — where I am the least nimble of the group — will be in full swing in a few months. But for now, I can enjoy the ability to blend in with all the January beginners.

So, while I may not be making many resolutions of my own, I am indebted to those that are. Particularly if those resolutions involve protecting my ego in exercise classes. Landing on your derrière in a yoga class is much easier when you’re not the only one. Please, resolutionists everywhere, join me.