Maybe it was all the travel last week. Or perhaps it's the 4.5 hours of sleep average per night that I've enjoyed since last Tuesday. Or it could be the irregular meals, that night of the bottomless martini or my insistence on wearing impossibly bad footwear on those days when it hurts just to walk. Damn it, I'm feeling worn out today. And I don't like feeling worn out.

I'm far too young to start walking with a stoop or to don orthopedic shoes with the velcro straps. Yet today, I clearly felt the inevitable affects of the previous week's activities and realized, as one does in moments of self-epiphany, that I was no longer 20 years old. I can't roll out of bed with three hours sleep, slam down a Red Bull and face the world with a shiny, bright face. I need the human equivalent of an oil change. I need to build my strength. Aw, Christ. I need some proper exercise.

I used to play tennis regularly when I lived in California. There were plenty of free tennis courts always available at the local high schools that just begged you to come and bat a ball around. In New York, it's less of a spontaneous enterprise. You must get on a subway and hike through the respective park to get to the courts. Once there, you must wait on line untill a court frees up. And it's $7 per person to play. That seems very undemocratic to me and a bloody waste of time.

I was never was one for traditional gyms, though I had a membership at one for awhile, because, well, everyone does at some point in their lives. I do believe the trauma of walking into the women's locker room and witnessing the whole female intimidation mindfuck that was at play put me off for life. It is just wrong to see so much parading pubic hair at one time. Besides, lifting weights, climbing a stairmaster or riding a stationery bike while watching CNN seems awfully aimless and particularly dull.

These thoughts were on my mind when I left work tonight. I tottered wearily along the street, balancing a briefcase heavy with a laptop and files and every step like a weight on my back. I passed Tiger Schulmann's, an emporium of karate, self defense and fitness training through martial arts. Now, I walk by this place every single day and sometimes pause in front of their large picture window to watch the children's class doing ju-jitsu exercises. I walked by. Stopped. Turned around and went in.

I walked to the front counter and shook hands with an enthusiastic young woman named Katie. She asked me what I wanted to achieve. I said, "I want to build my strength. I want to learn to throw a proper punch. I want to learn self defense so I can flatten anyone going for my purse or anything else on my person. And I want to learn to kickbox like Jet Li."

I start on Monday.