The wonders of modern life–I’m emailing my trainer from 37,000 feet as I head off on a two day business trip.  Need to let her know that I went to gym today and, like a good student, had a boring, but presumably good, eighty minute workout in Zone 2, the moderate heart rate and fat burning realm.  Creatures like me clotting the gym floor, flailing about on ellipticals, stationary bikes, stair climbers and other random torture devices, each equipped with a personal TV monitor to counter the boredom with ESPN or headline news.  No one looks like they are having fun.  Absolutely no resemblance to Paradise Loop on a bike, rolling hills with spectacular bay views, or the Troop 80 trail over ruts and roots through Muir Woods (my favorite running trail).  Nothing like that.  Significantly lower heart rate than those bikes and runs, but meant to burn fat, of which I have ample amounts to burn.  Give in to the science, they say.  I hope science knows what it’s doing, because plodding along at this level is dull, dull, dull.  

But maybe we do have to give in to the science.  I’m hoping to do much more than I’ve ever done, push my ragged collection of cartilage and sinew to eleven (in Spinal Tap terms).  Why not have the absolute best science on my side, along with the philosophy of Socrates, the running mind of Haile Gebrselassie, Einsteinium physics, acupuncture and other ancient Chinese dark arts, and anything else that will help get me to the top of Sacagawea and ultimately survive the goddam Bridger?  Leave nothing on the table, I say.   And so, I suspend my contempt for slow, supposedly fat burning workouts, and plod along, stair step after stair step, a consistent 125 beats as I glance at the little round trainer strapped to my wrist.