It was still dark when the alarm clock beeped last Monday morning—a sure sign that summer will eventually end. Bob was well into his walk when I got up, stumbled out of bed and stepped onto a quilting needle lurking in the bedroom rug. Like all hiccups in the daily routine, I assumed that this one could be quickly fixed. Not so—I couldn't see the underneath of my big toe well enough to do anything and Bob—deep into his new-job morning schedule—didn't have much time to invest in my dilemma. Soooo, later that morning I found myself sitting in Dr. Ho's examining room expecting him to solve my problem.

Not so—I'd have to wait a week for the tissue surrounding the needle to swell (Swell!), loosen the irritant, and push it to the surface. The bad news was there was a needle in my toe and it would hurt worse as the week wore on; the good news was I couldn't ride the Lifecycle. At 9:00 am instead of heading downstairs for 24 minutes of sweaty exertion, I could continue to read the paper, work on my quilt, listen to NPR, and lounge with the perfect excuse—orders from the doctor.

As the week wore on my enjoyment of this break in my exercise regime only increased. I didn't have to look forward to Wednesdays (my day off) anymore, every day was a Wednesday! I could remain in my robe indefinitely—or at least before I heard Bob's car come into the garage. I couldn't really garden—"Keep the affected area dry"; walking to the store rather than driving was not an option—my ticket to ride had been suspended.

I could have started back on the ride by Thursday or Friday—but there was this note from my doctor...I had to be a good patient. My better self urged me to get back on the bike but my darker side said, "Oh just take a break. It probably doesn't do you that much good anyway."

Every single morning before I finally head downstairs to the bike, I referee an inner battle—"just take it easy" vs. "but it's so good for you". Evolutionarily speaking, you'd think that our cranial synapses would line up on the side of regular exercise, a healthy diet, early to bed, not choosing that bad boyfriend, no chocolate after 8:00 pm and obeying the speed limit. Why is it that almost everything we love is not good for us? Even the recent medical support of coffee, chocolate and wine limits our consumption to a meager daily amount.

Anyways, I went back to the doctor last Monday, he passed me off to his Physician's Assistant (apparently needle-infested toes weren't his job). The PA deftly removed the needle, swabbed me good with antiseptic, sent me off without as much as a band aid, and revoked my right to lounge. Yes, I could get back on that bike again. However, mornings at 9:00, I still remained on the couch, unwilling to get out of my hard won, exercise-free zone. Coach Bob had something else in mind for me. "When are you getting back on that bike?", he said.

"Never!", I said. Apparently, the darker, grumpier side of me flourishes on the couch. Try as I might, I couldn't force myself back downstairs. But, the longer I rested, the stiffer I got. Finally this Thursday (after all Wednesday is my day off), I got back on the horse. Blood is once again rushing to my brain every morning for 24 minutes. I'm not kidding, I'm sure that I think better.