Hanging upside down is not my cup of tea.
This much I learned during my first session with Fairbanks' Aerial Yoga of Alaska. Though I have done hatha, vinyasa and even Bikram yoga, nothing quite prepared me for aerial yoga—something akin to the aerial ballet of Cirque du Soleil combined with a fitness-training regimen.
The relatively new concept, also called anti-gravity yoga, was intriguing, and I went to sweat, burn calories and challenge myself. Check, check and check. Yet, unexpected was the dizziness and nausea.
Let's set the pre-vertigo scene. More than a dozen colorful silks and hammocks—red, green, yellow, blue, pink and purple—hung in the mirrored room inside the Artisan's Courtyard. Purple indoor rock climbing pads rested under each silk. The circus-like atmosphere felt warm and inviting. Gentle music played while instructor Bethany Russell and her assistants—including studio owner Shelly Yoshida—kept energy levels up, demonstrating poses and aiding the dozen participants in attaining proper positioning and movements.
The class began with a series of stretches using the silks. My hamstrings, calves and quads alternately burned while the silks supported my weight and allowed for greater range of motion and deeper stretches. The stretches were thorough; all impact non-existent.
Following the first series, where at least one foot remained on the ground, and a second where hands remained on the ground with both feet in the air for aerial pushups (killer!), we took to the air for a series of movements that worked the lower back as well as the abs.
After a grueling set of air crunches (sit-ups), we did, uh, something else. Many of the posture names escaped me as I was just trying to keep up and avoid too many, "Huh?" moments. Next, it was time to swing upside down. With feet hopefully wrapped securely around the silks (Yoshida assured me they were), I took a deep breath and went over backwards. The motion was awkward and a little unnerving. Fully trusting my instructors, I released the silks, hanging downward. This posture felt liberating, but a little weird. Though the stretch felt elongating, the reflected image confronting me didn't appear entirely relaxed. I was a kid on the monkey bars the last time I was suspended upside down. A kid no more, my 52-year-old body experienced an "uh-oh!" sensation.
A brief moment of panic set in.
Russell, an aerial yoga practitioner for three years, one as an instructor, warned us about sitting up too fast—but I had swing upright. The head rush was a whopper. The zebra stripes on the unitard in front of me blurred. This worried me slightly as Russell would undoubtedly flip us upside down again—and again.
The Upside Down Buddha presented the next inverted challenge. For this pose, I stood on the silk, wrapped a leg around each side, placed my soles together and slid downward into a sitting position. So far, so good. Then it was over backward once more—though more controlled this time. Maybe it was the blood rushing to my head, or the prolonged abdominal flex required to hold the pose, but it was the beginning of the end.
"It's completely normal to feel dizzy or nauseous the first time," Yoshida reassured me. "We're not used to being upside down, but in time you get used to it."
I paused for some water, not sure if the sweat on my brow came from exertion or that clammy I'm-gonna-be-sick feeling. I sat out a few movements, watching others perform postures high above the ground with grace and fluidity. It was beautiful observing the more seasoned participants twist themselves into stars.
Inspired to continue, I rejoined the session for newbies as they moved to the hammocks—strong enough to support an adult male grizzly bear. Climbing inside, I horizontally positioned myself with a fold of cloth over my legs. I felt queasy, but nevertheless pushed my hips upward, legs going up and over in full flip. Trust! Suspended in the cloth, fully extended, I was The Bat! This was cool. There were other hammock moves, including a final cool down, stretching fully out in the dark.
Though this initial session left me feeling slightly "off," it also had me contemplating revisiting aerial yoga in the future. That is, once I get used to being upside down.
Aerial Yoga of Alaska is located in Fairbanks at 1755 Westwood Way. For more information, go to http://aerialyogaak.com.
This article appeared in the Fall 2015 issue of 61°North. Contact 61° editor Jamie Gonzales at jgonzales@alaskadispatch.com.