Hi Ho! Hi Ho! It's to the Gym I Go

Breathe in. Lift! Breathe out. Down.

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Breathe in. Lift! Breathe out. Down.

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Strains of "The Countess Cathleen" from Riverdance hum through my iPod while I concentrate on not killing myself. The breathing is important, or so I've been told. But no matter how hard I try, I just can't seem to get the rhythm down.

Sheesh, even when I was delivering Caleb, I couldn't breathe right. Maybe it's a genetic defect. Ooo, then I could blame my parents!

Somehow, my leg curls and extensions get done. They are accordingly marked down in my notebook. Then I move on.

Now Pirates of the Caribbean is blasting in my ears, and I jog in time to the beat on the treadmill. Breathing isn't so important here. I can forget everything else and just run (or walk. . . um, yeah. I like walking). And I remember why I like the gym so much.

I didn't think I would. Like the gym, that is. I joined it in a desperate attempt to be a bit more healthy and to keep the ominous suggestion of Diabetes far far away. But to my surprise and delight, I actually enjoy the gym.

You know why? Want in on the secret? Because for me, the world goes bye-bye when I walk through L.A. Fitness's doors. I get to block everything out. The simplicity of breathing and weight-lifting does wonders for the world-weary soul. Like diving under water, when everything around you becomes muted.

No phones. No instant messenger. No demands. No emergencies. Heck, no one even knows me!

And for an hour and a half, that peace and tranquility is all mine.

Ahhhhh, I love it.