I was the kind of student a gym teacher could hate. I was discouraged by having the wind knocked out of me. Losing did not spur me on. Once I saw that other people were stronger, faster and more buoyant, I gave up physical humor for mental gymnastics. Now the only horses I vault are in my mind. I was wary of any enterprise requiring a jock strap, or, worse, requiring nothing at all, as in swimming at Washington High, the last bastion of the Greco-Roman ideal. Nude swimming among adolescent boys not only does not develop character, it does not develop a backstroke. But you should see my crawl.

I have inadvertantly managed to stay in good shape, though. Thanks to nervious tension, I have a comparatively flat stomach, although if I ever relax it'll be all over. Then I'll have to shop for belt buckles at truck-stop gift counters. While I have no regimen to speak of, I shake my head a lot, which seems to keep the levator scapulae in fine fettle. Pacing has done wonders for my calves. For the thighs and lower back, you can't beat the rapid succession of getting up and sitting down on days spent debating whether or not to leave the house. Facial tone, meanwhile, is aided and abetted by the jaw drops when I do get out and discover women are working out as well, and in body gloves.

One thing I'm very careful about is watching my sweet intake, studying each bite of 5th Avenue Bar before eating, just in case something worthy of litigation turns up in the nougat. I used to watch my starches, but if you've seen one potato, you've seen them all. These days, upon leaving the lunch counter, I'm careful to fill my pockets only with Sweet 'n Low. I've given up salt entirely, resorting only occasionally to licking car tires in winter. In lieu of salad dressing, I just squirt a little lemon in my eye.

Having a mate, of course, is ideal for getting those muscle oppositions going. Not only do Consuela and I enjoy logrolling one another over to the other side of the bed, but we like to stand on either side of a door and push. This works with all doors, although with a revolving one, you run the risk of trapping the shopper in the next wedge over without air. Still, you can't beat it for dynamic tension.

From my hatha-yoga days, I know the importance of breath and make every effort to remember to draw it in. Sometimes it gets a little labored. Ever since I realized that the word inspiration comes from inspiring, I've tried to inhale more than exhale. I don't know what happens to the difference, but I could venture a guess.

I take very few drugs, except aspirin, and that only in self-defense. Other than that, I drink coffee; I should go with the decaffeinated, but it leaves me lethargic and unable to tremble. And trembling is a great way to work off calories.