Ok, in the event you've been otherwise advised, let me set the record straight: I'm no amazon. Quite the contrary, I tend to lean ever so slightly toward the short end of the spectrum. I'm close to the ground. I tell people I'm more valuable per square inch.

I work with a woman named Tara. Tara is one of the best people I know, and we bonded almost instantly. I've mentioned her before...in a round-about sort of way. Tara's about six feet tall and she hates walking in front of me because she says she feels like my body guard pushing people aside so that I can pass. From day one, Tara has referred to yours truly as her "Mini Me". I don't know that I've ever heard my name come forth from her lips.

I love Tara.

She had dinner with her son at school today, where she saw another good friend of mine—Karen, of Cake Lady fame! (De Forest people, that pertains to you...not that you don't have widespread international fame, Karen...just saying). Karen asked how I was doing, if I was still dating that handsome man that stood by my side at Mom's visitation. Tara nodded enthusiastically, mimicked she, and relayed her reply of, "The picture of the two of them is still up in her cubicle."

Somehow I managed to drop that Nick commented, just the other day, that I rarely bend my knees when I bend over. Tara looked at me bug-eyed. I displayed my bendy capacity. Palms flat to the ground and legs straight for her display, the whole office knew of this silly quirk within 10 minutes. As I said, I'm low to the ground. I don't need a lot of help to get there. Well before too long all discussion on how I do use my knees turned just plain naughty...but that's neither here nor there.

I noticed Tara walking behind me towards the end of my day, and she did a little jog to catch me. She asked how it is that short people walk so fast. I told her it's instinct...to escape the predators. She asked how I do it...I told her I don't waste time bending my knees. Duh.

Well, I don't tend to downplay things. In fact, the opposite is typically true...I take a microscopic particle of feeling and hit it with an engorgement charm. Thus, when I waxed poetic about my gym membership, that was pretty much a code for "I really quite enjoy working out at my gym. It's super."

On to Nick...Nick isn't fond of gyms. He'd rather run outdoors. He once owned a treadmill, but eventually he returned it citing non-use. Which reminds me...when I first met Nick and we were making the obligatory small talk, he'd often make a leading statement only to quell further discourse on grounds of it being another story for another time. Well, I called him on the treadmill story.

The whole story, all details present and accounted for? Nick once owned a treadmill, but eventually he returned it citing non-use.

All talk...pft.

Then, the fellow planted the idea of a Cancer benefit run in my piddly little mind. I had no experience running outdoors...I kill it on a treadmill...but outside? I felt doomed to fail. Nevertheless, I hit the ground running and my perfectionism is trying to rear its ugly little head, striving to make a better runner out of this body which seems the most at home sprawled upon a coffeeshop couch sipping the frothiest, foamiest cappuccino imaginable.

"But that's another story for another time."

I am now, after mere months, addicted to running outdoors...but I find it so easy to lose motivation when the weather is less than great. When the birds are singing a certain way. When the neighbor's car is parked in the street instead of their driveway. Oh, and if I've recently brushed my teeth.

Reasonable excuses, obviously, but excuses that seem to not exist in a gym-going venture. Curious, isn't it?

Curious more, that I haven't been to the gym in well over a month. I cannot stand the thought of getting on a treadmill. My inner diva taps her foot in irritation, melding ever so slightly with her valley-girl-roommate, and offers the flippant, "I ran seven hilly miles on Saturday, I am so above this...like, totally."

Now, this week is chock-full with rainy forecasts, and I'm facing the prospect of another lethargy-filled collection of days. Not good. Besides the fact that exercise is a good mood enhancer, a good immune system booster too, I know that I need to keep myself strong to fend off whatever is going wrong with my stomach. So today, I must return to the gym. And, now that I've typed it here, I know I'll feel guilty if I don't. Way to go, Laura...Way. To. Go.

And all the while, I will dream for the next sunny day...when the birds aren't singing offensively and the neighbor's car is in their driveway. I would say that I'll be dreaming of scummy teeth as well...but let's face it...that'll never happen.