Or so the sign told me, Saturday morning... There I was, in Seattle, staying with friends. One of them had signed up for ten tryout sessions of hot yoga. Another friend of ours has been loving hot yoga in Spokane, so I said what the heck, I'll give it a try. It can't be worse than regular yoga. Can it? I've always hated yoga. I know a lot of people who love it, and feel like they can disappear into it. Apparently I need more activity to disappear in to that sort of zen state. Like soccer. When I play soccer, I don't remember the game afterwards. I'm just gone, in the moment. Yoga, though - between the challenging poses and the lack of movement overall, I find I spend the time annoyed and preoccupied with my when-I-get-out-of-here to-do list. But hot yoga is supposed to change all that. It works by pouring hot air/steam into the room where you do yoga moves with the lights dimmed. The heat is supposed to "detoxify" - their word, not mine. Sort of like a sauna.