This has been a devastating winter in New York: cold, dark, icy, blizzardy. We've hauled out shapeless jackets. We've procured sensible, water-proof, slip-proof footwear. And worn them day, after day, after dark day.Oy vey.For the first time in 4 years, I don't have a tropical destination this winter: no Costa Rica yoga retreat to lead. My teaching cohort has gone off in India for 6 weeks. So there's no guaranteed relief this year: relief for lizard-like skin, plunging vitamin D levels, or the feeling of being embalmed in wool (boiled or cashmere makes no difference: I'm a summer girl; I like to feel my limbs free).So imagine how grateful I am to the yoga centers nearby who had the brilliant idea of installing saunas. In this weather, it's fantastic to be warm. It's great to feel really HOT. It feels SO GOOD to sweat like a tropical plant opening up to a sweltering afternoon shower. And in a weird way, it's great to suffer in the way opposite from the day-to-day suffering.When Spa Castle (Korean spa in Queens) is too far away, the Russian baths are too skanky (or just too much cash), I know I can slip over to Kula Williamsburg or Greenhouse Holistic (N7 & Roebling), take a class, and douse my unhappy epidermis with dry heat until the leathery stiffness begins to give. And at Kula, I can also have some of Brownie's delicious banana bread after (which is going to make bikini season a little harder to prepare for this year).Ahhhhhh. Long live the convenient neighborhood sauna.