In lieu of my weekly gym session, I worked out for half an hour following the New York City Ballet Workout this morning. (This is not the first time I do so.) The weight of various parts of my body started making themselves known half way in to the first warm-up exercise, and I could barely breathe at the end of the half hour.

It is one of those eternal mysteries in life that, during adolescence, I managed to get fat while doing 5 hours of ballet a week. Mind you, those sessions weren't just for fun. They were under the strict tutelage of a strict ballet mistress. Aaah, the good ol' days.