Today I am all limpy again. This time, though, I’m not panicking about it and throwing my arms up in the air. The first time athletic injury happens it is big and mysterious and scary. But after that it seems ordinary and manageable, and you forget how it used to be big and mysterious and scary. And I think this is why the first time it happened to me, the majority of my nonathletic friends (and I) assumed my running was finished while the majority of my athletic friends thought I should calm down and deal. Which, essentially, was true. Happily this time I am calm and dealing.

So getting back to limpy: I had a daily routine this week of half an hour on the elliptical and lots of stretching and leg lifts and fifteen minutes of running, followed by icing. Talley and I have been going to the gym together for the ellipticals, and the first time we went we had fifteen minutes to kill before machines were available and we ended up in the secret weight room.

The secret weight room is not really secret so much as secondary, small and tucked away behind the climbing wall. Most people choose the big flashy weight room with giant windows and even bigger mirrors, where there is grunting and posing and staring. In the secret weight room no one cares if you spend a few minutes adjusting the seat and reading instructions on the sides of the elaborate machines, and more often than not the weights are already set to fifty pounds instead of two hundred.

I love the secret weight room because I love weight machines. I love their big bulky robot forms, like people imagined the future a hundred years ago. I love their precision, the way two tons of pulleys and iron mechanically conspires for the sole purpose of toning one single muscle group in your forearm. I love doing three reps of ten, when the third set takes all my concentration and willpower and I have to count practically out loud after six.

So I started going to the secret weight room every day after the ellipticals, and alas, this was unwise. Specifically, my enthusiasm for the machine where you sit with your legs at ninety degrees to a big metal plate and push back to near-standing was unwise. Because apparently this machine puts stress on knees, and my knees would prefer a break from stress right now. So today, limpy. Lesson learned.