I Hate You Hot Yoga (I Love You

Forty minutes into the class, the temperature soared to 105 degrees Fahrenheit, and my mind spewed out a stream of obscenities so obscene that they would have made my Boston brethren proud. I glanced at my wife. Serene, her breath steady, her poses flawless (though she’d argue otherwise), all I wanted to do was push her over and say, “What corner of hell have you led me to?” At this stage, I wasn’t even doing yoga; I was just struggling to withstand the heat. I’d begun the class full of vigor, athletic as I am. But I’d made the grave error of underestimating the heat. Now, it was an inferno, intensifying by the minute. I’d broken for water about seven times, and every unnecessary movement cost me dearly. I’d been chastised once for pouring water over my head to cool down. “Showers are for after class, Peter, not during them.” “Just be still, follow my instructions, and the heat will ignore you,” the teacher called out encouragingly. I responded with a frustrated sigh or an eye roll, I’m not sure — I think I was already showing signs of heat stroke. A sudden memory came to me — my wife cautioning me forty minutes before class: “Don’t drink that protein shake, babe. It’s too close to class time.” But I had brushed her off confidently, “It’s fine. I need the energy to withstand the heat.” Her indifferent shrug was my only answer. <a href="https://thetaoist.online/i-hate-you-hot-yoga-i-love-you-78747a49bc3">Click Here</a>