Collapsing on the stairs after finishing a jog. In the humidity, the sweat forms like an internal dropper is pushing it out of my arms, my legs, even my hands, before it slides away to plunk in perfect circles on the cement. In the first few minutes after I plop down, all I can do is breathe and sweat and regulate my heartbeat back down to normal. 

I seldom think of sweating as an action, but in the thickness of Missouri's August, it is. Cicadas strike up the band and then stop as quickly as they started while I sit and sweat. Drink some water. Sweat some more. I become aware of a breeze I swear did not exist on the hills, but here it is, lifting just the edges of the leaves, sweeping across my skin until slowly, the bubbles stop forming and the rivulets slow. I can feel my heart slowing, too: crisis averted, she's not moving so fast any more.

My daughter is sick to death of summer and excited about school. She's tired of the pool, tired of barbecues, tired of the back deck, tired of the top down. I find myself clinging to these things and my favorite time of year and even the sweating, because sweating means I could be outside without a jacket, all day long if I wanted.

My breathing normal, the sweat dried enough to allow me back to the keyboard and the chair and the work, I reluctantly haul myself off the front step and walk back into my life, instantly forgetting the feeling of my skin touched by air.

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I thought this post in my head the other day, and then I forgot all about it, and then I realized I really should write it down before I forget it again.

My doctor told me I should do yoga for my upper back pain. She told me this on the same day that she gave me a referral to a surgeon and a gastro doctor. Me not really being the yoga type, I bought Jillian Michael's version. It's a half hour of teeth-gnashing, panting hell, and that is the beginner version. For someone who has been lifting weights for the past fifteen years, Jillian Michaels can be quite humbling.

I had to take about two weeks off from Jillian due to the incisions in my leg. Of all things exercise, I was most concerned yoga would actually stretch the areas so much it would cause problems, so I waited until it was way healed before I tried it again ... yesterday.

I did not realize you could lose muscle strength so damn fast. I took five days off after my surgery before walking a few miles. The minute my surgeon cleared me after ten days, I went back to weighted squats and all that jazz with The Firm. I didn't expect any problems from Jillian, other than you know, her being JILLIAN.

As I was attempting not to fall off my hands during the side planks, the little angel walked over to me. She sniffed and stared at the sweat rolling off my red face as I sucked in air like a vacuum cleaner.

"You know, Mommy," she said. "It's a choice to do that to yourself."

I started laughing so hard I did fall. Off my pride. Ouch.

Hi, I'm Rita, and I like to exercise. 

There, I've said it.

I will actually create chores just so I can exercise while doing them. Which explains why I shoveled the back deck while it was still snowing yesterday.

I've been working out at least three times a week since I was 17 years old. I'm coming up on 20 years of jogging, elliptical machines, stairmasters, step aerobics, kickboxing and Jane Fonda. I did Buns of Steel. I did Tae Bo. I've seen beautiful people sweat near ocean backdrops to the Foo Fighters. I've run 5ks and some-more-ks, though I'm generally not fond of running and will never even try to do a marathon, because I happen to like my flat feet to remain attached to my body. I've run bleachers. I've climbed all the flights of stairs in my office building. I've attempted gymnastics, Pilates and the full fish pose.

And I'm so bored.

I'm bored with my workouts. I alternate between fighting the others for equipment at the tiny workout room sponsored by my housing association (for which I'm very thankful, trust me, but there are only six cardio machines for many, many, MANY people), doing exercise DVDs at home and shoveling snow.

This weekend, there were two bouts of snow shoveling and a trip to Tunnel Voyage (you try hauling your 35-year-old ass two stories up a McDonald's-Playland-style hamster tunnel for an hour and see how you feel). Also, I purchased myself some new workout DVDs and signed up for belly dancing aerobics. (Stay tuned for my month-long series to start on Thursdays this week.)(Here. At this blog.)(Because I feel like it, it's January, and I'm bored.)

I'm not going to review the DVDs, but suffice it to say none of them involve Jillian Michaels or her rock-hard abs. One is a crazy-intense-looking cardio tape and the other is a ballet workout. Ever since the little angel started ballet lessons, I've found myself longing for more leg strength. It would be truly awesome to be able to hold my leg out perpendicular from my body. Because then every time I had a bad day I could hold my leg out and be like YEAH, WORLD, BUT CAN  YOU DO THIS?

So I've done one of the ballet workouts. It consisted of floor barre and standing workouts. It is fortunate I took ballet in my childhood, because the very-fancy-sounding narrator never explained how to do any of the moves, all of which were described by their ballet names in French. And the mute dancers never explained them either or demonstrated them beforehand. Which is why I fell on my face once and nearly lost an eye to the TV console another time. However, after I was done, I realized I had that slow-burn yoga feeling and was genuinely very tired with a fast-beating heart, though I don't actually remember breaking a sweat. Weird.

We'll see if I can walk tomorrow, because it's supposed to snow again on Wednesday. I may have to dig myself out so I can make it to belly dancing.