It started off poorly. I went to the front desk and said, "Uh, hi? I have a membership? Through work?" And the guy said, "A corporate discount? Uh, well. I don't know how to handle that. You can come back this afternoon?" and I was standing there unshowered, in my gym clothes, ready to return to the gym, finally, and Kick! Some! Ass! but was being told that there was no kicking of ass to be had this day, and additionally, you have to show up to work with your hair looking like that because there's no time to go home and shower now.

I did not give up. I am very pleased to say that I did not. Sometimes, it's the little things you cling to. I leaned across the desk and said, "I have a number. Not on me, but they sent me a number. And I think that it's a membership number. So I'm already a member." "Oh!" the guy said. "Well, that's different." He looked me up by name, and there I was, a member of a gym, and all set up to Kick! Some! Ass! He looked at me and said, "You need to take a picture. But we'll just do that after your workout and shower, okay?" It was really bad unshowered hair.

So I'm back at the gym. I went running. Running! Almost two miles, even. Actually, it was kind of a little more like lurching--I went all the way back to the beginning of the Couch to 5K plan, for I am not stupid, or particularly ambitious, and did not want to kill myself the first week out. I was pretty sure I was being ridiculous, but also pretty sure I did not want to die embarrassingly in the middle of the run, with both knees blown out and my head on fire and the treadmill exploding in a shower of sparks that would take out the whole neighborhood, cause an earthquake and have San Francisco dropping directly into the sea. That is absolutely what would have happened.

Sixty seconds of running, a minute and a half of walking. It felt so slow, and I was startled every time the minute ticked over and it was time to drop back to a walk. Walk? I wasn't done running! But dutifully I did, and the 90 seconds felt like they were going on forever and ever. Walking is a very boring thing to do. Running feels much more purposeful, and is more bouncy. I enjoy the bouncy. It is, as I have mentioned, the small things.

Other small things: The treadmills have televisions! That is so crazy. It is like craziness, right there above my head. I did not actually want to watch television, as it turns out, so I just flipped the channel to VH1, and enjoyed watching the pretty people lip synch to my iPod, and it was remarkably distracting, to have something moving and shiny to look at while you bounce away, improving your cardiovascular fitness and muscle tone. There is yet more craziness, and that is the fact that there are additionally fans on each of the treadmills. Little tiny fans that you can put up on high and they blow air at you, as fans do, and in that way you do not feel as if you are melting, should you push yourself to the point where you actually feel as if you are exercising.

With all the walking, I did not feel particularly exercised, so I kept pushing up the treadmill speed, and up, and up, and up and I was fairly pounding along and feeling good and enjoying the bouncing and the shiny VH1 and the tingly feeling of moral superiority that comes from being virtuous and so awesome, and was so supremely proud of myself for going so fast and so terrifically furiously, and then a very old man got on the treadmill next to me and cranked it a full notch above the speed that was making me sweat, and I realized that you cannot compare yourself to other people--you can only compare yourself to you. And really, really hate the old man next to you.

I'm going back tomorrow--I reserved a lane in the swimming pool, and in that way I will start on my quest to turn my upper body into a thing of muscle, rather than squooshy swaying skin. Was that sexy? Do you want me? You will, in a couple of months, when I can run faster than old men and swim farther than young fish and kick all kinds of major ass. Possibly I will take up a life of fighting crime and helping old ladies across the street on my strong back.

It feels so good to be back to the gym. It wasn't what I meant to do, today, but last night I was feeling miserable and feeling sorry for myself and feeling like everything was out of my hands and that is the worst feeling in the world, and then I was up off the couch, packing my gym bag and remembering that there are things I can do for myself and things I've got to do for myself and I remembered how good I was feeling, when I was running, and I did. I felt so good. I feel so good. Even though my ass really hurts.