Holy hotness batman!

Dear Sister,

Okay, so I’ve sort of failed at my revised list of priorities. To be honest, my revised revised list of priorities has basically been this, lately: Work. Sleep. Sit on my couch and zone out for a few minutes.

But, the good news, for you, is that I have only a week left in my internship. Which means, well, I’ll have a little more time to write to you. It also means I need to figure out what to do with my life this spring (and just in general) but that’s a whole other can of worms I’m not about to open right here.

Do you remember last year, when I conceded that running the Road Race may, in fact, solidify my position as the “crazy” one? Well, I think this whole moving-to-the-north-pole thing you’ve got going is definitely giving me a run for my money, but I may have one-uped you. Two words: hot yoga.

Yes, you read it right. Me, the girl who hates excessive heat, wears tank tops year round, and was the reason for the at-least-50-degrees-or-no-shorts rule. I’ve been voluntarily subjecting myself to 90 minutes in 90-something degree heat. And not just sitting there in, exercising in it. And here’s the thing: 90 degrees is HOT and 90 minutes IS A LONG TIME. Seriously, the guys (who are more flexible than me, which is depressing for me) look like they are in the shower. Not like they just got out of the shower, like they are currently in the shower. And for the first 45 minutes, I stand there thinking “What the hell have I gotten myself into?!” I'm pretty sure it would be an exceptionally effective use of torture, but supposedly it has health benefits, so maybe the CIA should look into using it. You know, get some valuable national security information and improve the health of alleged terrorists. I'm just saying...maybe it would make them appreciative.

Oh, because, that’s the other thing—you can’t leave! You’re stuck in the heat for the whole hour and a half! One girl was scurrying toward the door, and the instructor told her (in a super friendly, nice way, that makes it impossible to disobey) to go back to her mat and just sit down, and breathe, and have some water. Plus, half the people there have rockin’ bodies, which is sort of inspiration to not leave. Because in my mind, if I do the same hot yoga they do, then I will end up equally as hot (pun intended). The last 30 minutes are on the mat, lying down postures, which is when I’m think “ahhh, yes, this is excellent.” It’s still intense, and my heart still races, but it’s the part that convinces me to come back again. Which, I’m sure, is all part of their evil plan.

So anyway, I was thinking, if they have this in Alaska, you should check it out. Because it is a nice break from the cold, which I’m sure you’ll appreciate.

love,
your off-the-deep-end sister