The World Beyond My Thighs

I awoke with leaden quads. This is the natural consequence of yesterday's extended run and it made my choice for today's workout--cross-training or a 3-4 mile easy run--no choice at all. I considered swimming this morning at a time I knew the pool would be empty. That's always tempting. But no. It was crummy out so instead I indulged my masochism by listening to a show called "Left, Right and Center," which has the usual assortment of gasbags telling us what they think having done little more research than read columns about what everyone else thinks. My gorge was rising after hearing Arianna Huffington excoriate Geraldine Ferraro. (She actually asked, "Doesn't she have any friends who could tell her to shut up?" The same could be said for Ms. Huffington.) I'm going to have to start a blog just for the political season. I've had it up to here with most of these maroons.

So pilates it was. I'm counting on Katie's hard core pilates to work wonders on my not very hard core. I could barely do two push-ups. I'm doing this for good reasons, which I've noted, and will make the best of this beleaguered endeavor. But at times all of the energy involved seems pointless at worst and insignificant at best. I just heard a photographer in some war zone--choose one--say that he had taken pictures of people "who had been dismembered in a particularly horrific way." Is there a way of dismembering that isn't horrific? I sit here mewling over my thighs. What on earth am I talking about?