Today it's a piece in the Long Island section (hate to say so, but maybe that explains it) in which Debra Borden writes about her experiences as an over-40 woman at the gym.
It's full of the kind of self-deprecating humor that gave women comedians a bad name in the pre-Tina Fey era:
I make my vows: This year I will exercise every day! By spring I will be healthy and balanced and look like Angelina Jolie (the latter is merely a bonus; it’s the well-being I’m after, of course). But perhaps that’s a bit ambitious. So I will work out four days a week and settle for a Zen-like calm and J. Lo’s body by September. O.K., fine. One day a week, slight smile, and a Marie Osmond, post-Jenny, by 2010. I may be a dreamer but I’m not delusional.
Borden goes on to snark about people who talk on cell phones while on the cardio equipment, the rap songs her son loaded onto her iPod, and women named Sage. As you can imagine, this last does not endear her to me. She gives herself plenty of permission to skip the gym because the other people working out there are just so annoying.
In the age of Dara Torres, the Times's choice to print poorly-written anti-fitness irrelevancy like this is borderline ludicrous.
I'd like to meet Ms. Borden in a cage fight one day and show her what a real commitment to strength-training can do for a middle-aged woman.