Boy, do I hate lifting weights. I don’t have this attitude towards the other exercise I do — I like taking a long walk every day, no matter what the weather, and I even like doing some easy yoga and calisthenics in the morning. But even though I know I need to do it, I have never liked lifting weights.

Then I got bronchitis last winter and really was too sick to lift weights, and somehow I just never started up again. This past Thursday I finally dusted of the weight bench and the barbell and the dumbbells and spent forty minutes lifting. I was surprised at how good it felt. My body does not like sitting at meetings, and sitting at bedsides, and sitting at more meetings, and sitting in front of a computer; my body likes it best when I’m doing moderately hard physical labor. I lifted weights again tonight, and once again I feel great — more cheerful, more alert, happier.

If I could only keep it up, keep lifting weights three times a week like you’re supposed to do, I’d probably feel that good all the time. If only…