I just got back from the gym.

I’ve been to the UO gym before, for dance and yoga and weights classes, but today was my first venture into the cardio room. I have been in cardio rooms before, and I did not particularly want to go back. Cardio rooms make me uneasy – all those skinny bouncing people staring blank-eyed into some middle distance under fluorescent lights, doing the same thing en masse in total isolation. Cardio rooms are the Edward Hopper paintings of the fitness universe.

I got on one of those machines that makes me feel wobbly and off-balance and started running without going anywhere. Talley hopped on the machine next to me and enthusiastically punched in some workout for burning calories; I chose one with a single big “hill.” Talley is not someone who would describe herself as peppy or cheerful, but after ten minutes on the machine she had the rosy upbeat demeanor of an aerobics instructor. After ten minutes I wanted to see what would happen if I leaned over and shoved her off. But I was too out of breath.

Not that this comes as any surprise to me, but I am not particularly in shape. My average day involves forty minutes of easy biking and twenty flights of stairs. I eat relatively well and don’t drink too much, and I’ve even given up the monthly cigarette. I could walk all day no problem.

But endurance: not my thing. So, a marathon.