My workplace has recently installed a new “fitness center,” by which they mean a few lockers, a few elliptical machines, a few presses, and some handweights. $25 covers seven months of use and free appointments with a personal trainer. Count me in! Even if I lose my resolve, $25 is a pretty low guilt tax. After work yesterday I walked over to meet my new personal trainer and tell her how I almost died of fatigue trying to climb a dry streambed uphill with a pack on. She designed a quick-and-dirty work out regimen for me and showed me how to do all the stuff and did not laugh once. If I keep doing it, she says, within a month or six weeks I will no longer almost die of fatigue though she can make no guarantees regarding other hazards.

I asked her how she got into personal training because I heard it’s hard to make a living that way. She got the same look on her face that I have seen many poets acquire when you ask them how they are making a living. It’s similar to that look people get when they feel an approaching bout of severe heartburn but still try to pay attention to the conversation. Almost no personal trainers survive by setting up workout routines, she said. She herself is mainly a nutritionist. She herself went through an enormous personal transition, going from being very overweight to being a competitive bodybuilder; invented a healthy eating system; published a book; went back to school; and still didn’t find personal training feasible. Where is the love! Food is more interesting than muscles anyway, she says, with more power to transform.