Today, I logged my 400th workout on the computers at the gym; I've been going for roughly 17 months. I'll concede that it appears to count a day twice at times, but still, for me, this is no small feat.

A sorry combination of awkwardness, hatred of exertion, and lack of coordination, I always thought it a twist of fate that the final class I attended at North Medford High School was Phys. Ed., or "P.E." (We wrapped the year in a tiered-out approach, so on one day, students attended periods 1-4, and had finals in periods 5-6; the next day, attend through finals in 3-4, the on the last day, finals in 1 & 2.) Fortunately, the "final" for P.E. was nothing more than "show up." The irony continued, when the city-sponsored post-Graduation party was held at the local Y.

I managed to steer clear of any sort of gym-like facilities for the next 11 years, joining my current club out of an "I-gotta-do-something" desperation. At first, it was just a matter of "getting my money's worth" that kept me going daily. Slowly, it was out of habit as much as anything else. It helps that the computers tell me what to do—that does the motivating for me. I realized the other day, though, that I actually (shudder) enjoy going now, in a way, a point I never thought I would reach. I use the time to detxo from work, set and reach achievable goals, and just be somwhere that isn't work and isn't home.