Go to hell, stairs.

No matter how much weight I can lift, how long I can run, or how many flows I can sweat through (okay, the answer to that is still that if you make me yoga for more than 20 minutes, I will lie, defeated, in child's pose for a bit), stairs still give me trouble. I'm down 20 lbs since I started paying attention to this blog (which is not the same as when I started it), I feel great, I eat healthily...and I still get completely winded when I have to go more than 3 flights of stairs at a go. We're all told that if we want to be healthier, we should take the stairs. This is utter bullshit. Opting for stairs over elevator is not going to get us out of heart attack country unless we're climbing ten flights, multiple times a day. And how cringeworthy is it to truck up a couple flights and have to fight to hold your breath at the top so that your mates don't see you gasping. Like they don't notice you turning red, right? Right. It's embarrassing. It's discouraging. And I think it might be partly psychosomatic. I wonder if, knowing stairs are trouble spots, I freeze up a little. Are my eyes sending signals to my brain - "Brain to Lungs. Brains to Lungs. Attention. Stairs Ahead." To which the lungs shout back "Shut down like Madagascar during a sneezing fit. Got it" I dunno. You guys got any athletic hiccups? PS - As you can see by my not blogging Sunday, hot yoga was a tad traumatic. I think that once I get more sure of my poses, and can flow better, I can focus a little. I can't deal with both the heat and the lack of prowess. One's okay, but not both.