As I write this, tomorrow is Tuesday, which is a cardio day. I'll spend five minutes warming up on the
VersaClimber, a towering machine that requires you to move your arms and legs simultaneously.
Then I'll do 30 minutes on a stair mill. On Wednesday a personal trainer will work me like a farm
animal for an hour, sometimes to the point that I am dizzy — an abuse for which I pay as much as I
spend on groceries in a week. Thursday is "body wedge" class, which involves another exercise
contraption, this one a large foam wedge from which I will push myself up in various hateful ways for
an hour. Friday will bring a 5.5-mile run, the extra half-mile my grueling expiation of any
gastronomical indulgences during the week