6.17 pm

The post-workout-high abruptly departed somewhere around 150th Street. I decided to start going to the gym not so much as a New Year's Resolution but more of as a "You know, I really feel better when I spend some time moving around instead of sitting in front of a law book or the computer all day." I got my RSF membership last semester, but then only ended up going about twice because i always had too many things to do. With any luck, that will not happen this semester.

This afternoon was a bit intense. I did my 30 minutes on the elliptical and was almost done with my 30 minutes on the bike when one of my journal buddies walked by. Which was odd, because I'd just been thinking that I wanted to ask him about a good workout using weights, which I know nothing about.

"Come get me when you're done," he said.

I looked down at the timer and told him I was just finishing. Which wasn't really a lie, since I only had about 30 seconds left. He told me he didn't actually use weights, but instead did exercises that uses the body's own weight. Which is all the better, since that's the reason I like Yoga. It's more difficult (but still possible) to hurt yourself that way.

So he has me do pull ups, and dips, and something I don't have a name for that involved being underneath a metal bar, with my feet on the ground, my butt in the air, and my hands on the bar, and puling myself up. Then there were handstands and pushups.

I finish all this. My legs are already hurting. My arms now have that lovely burning sensation. My heart is pounding. Breathing is not painful, but I have the feeling that it might be soon.

My gym buddy looks up at me and grins. "Now you do this four or five more times," he says.