"Your body is not you": A journey into hot yoga

I refused to be the “gym guy” who couldn’t handle an hour of infernal chaturangas.

Near the end of hot yoga last week, the instructor asked everyone in the room to consider kissing their knees. I did not consider it. Not because I’m incapable of or above putting my lips on my own sweaty knees, but because kissing them is goofy.

My only previous encounter with hot yoga had been back in the days when people still called the internet the…