Pahmp You Ahp!

I've had quite a few emails asking, "Dave, how's that new exercise program working out?"

Super! Thanks for asking!

Actually, it really is. I started working out last week in the gym in the basement of my building. Being an endorphine junky and having been on the wagon for a while, so to speak, I am reveling in the return of my daily fix.

One thing I'm doing, which I've never tried before, is a lot of work on ellipticals. I've got bad knees and really can't run any more. Treadmills and stairmasters are okay, but they still cause a fair amount of complaint in the ol' joints. But the elliptical seems to get around the problem of excessive pounding. It is nice, for a change, to feel like my leg muscles are getting a solid workout while, at the same time, not to feel like my knees are going to fold the wrong way.

Another thing is my reunion with an old friend, the Concept II rowing ergometer:

I use the term "old friend" here in the sense that James T. Kirk and Khan were old friends. I hated doing erg pieces when I rowed crew in college. (In fact, I had a t-shirt that read "Put An Erg On The Water And It Sinks." ) But since I'm not doing it competitively now and the machine is not so hell-bent on killing me, relations are a bit better.

All and all, I am quite pleased, as I say. Most importantly, I discovered that the chest twinges that I was beginning to suspect were a developing angina were merely stress-induced, the product of being put in charge of my first federal district court lawsuit. They've gone completely since I started working out again. (Yes, Mom and Dad, I'm still going in for a checkup.)

Of course, as with all gyms, there are the usual drawbacks. For one, the music they blast into the place, is horrid - mostly hip-hop. How one is expected to concentrate with "Yo, Yo, Yo, You go MoFo" pounding in one's ears is beyond me. Also, there is always at least one gnarly naked dude in the locker room who wanders around utterly without any self-conscience. "Spare us, Man, for the love of God!" one wants to yell.

Ah, well. It's all for the good of the cause. What price a Hunky Llama?