THREE LITTLE WORDS . . .

Pitchers and catchers.
Oooooooh, yeah. Together with the weirdly warm weather lately, these three words have got me in a frenzy for baseball season.

But, lo! What is this oddity from today's New York Times?: "Reliever Felix Rodriguez did not report for his physical on Wednesday, and General Manager Brian Cashman said the Yankees did not know where he was."

What do you mean, you don't know where he is?
That's weird.

***

LENTEN UPDATE . . .

My ninth day without coffee, or anything resembling or related to it.
I'm doing alright ... but I'm excessively sleepy.
My brain and body do not accept that tea has caffeine too.

But of course, every time I look upon that delectably hot coffee pot in the morning, I think to myself, "well, Jesus didn't have coffee, and He did alright."

So there.

***

NAUGHTY, NAUGHTY WEB . . .

The Internet is a bad, bad place. WebMD is a bad, bad website.

In the course of five hours, I have convinced myself that I am suffering from two auto-immune diseases, three skin conditions, a half-torn knee ACL, post-traumatic stress disorder and dehydration.

So I did what any logical person would do: I made an appointment with my doctor so I can share with her all the things that are wrong with me and make her cure me.

(N.B.: when I was on vacation, I had no worries at all! Coincidence? You decide.)

***

WAKEY-WAKEY . . .

I have become a recent convert to -- and newly-devoted fan of -- early-morning workouts. Sure, it's a tad surreal and depressing to find myself behind the wheel of a car in the still-dark, yawning widely and unable to reach for a cup of coffee, starting in surprise when I see another set of headlights in front of or behind me. But the endorphins ... man, those endorphins are so worth it.

The gym is nearly empty; just a few folks who also simply need to make time for themselves are spaced around me on ellipticals, stationary bikes and treadmills. The piped-in music is set to the good ol' stuff -- U2, Madonna, old-school George Michael, The Who, Pearl Jam -- and not the horrid bubble-gum pop that passes for music these days. The locker room hasn't been littered with a day's worth of hair and sweat molecules yet. The weight rooms are beefcake-free. Seven or eight men and women lift and press quietly at their stations; no grunting, no yelling, no squealing, and best of all, no gratuitous flirting in between sets. The stretching mat is blissfully open; I can wave my arms and legs about as much and as far as I want. The only person I'll hit ... is myself. (And I really do say that because it's happened.)

Leaving is almost as inspiring as the actual workout. What once was dark and sleepy is slowly bubbling awake to the rising sun. On a clear day, you can see forever, and the peekaboo sun glints off the Hudson River and the roofs of the passing commuter trains. There are just a few more cars on the road, just a few more people walking to the train station, just a bit more urgency in the air.

I merge onto the highway, ignoring the impending bumper-to-bumper traffic. I am zen, and I breathe deeply through my nose all the way home, the better to keep the endorphins pumping along. Throughout the day, I feel a sense of accomplishment, pride even, that I am healthy and will become more so, that I sit up straighter and feel stronger, that when I lift my arm to reach for papers I can see my teeny-tiny bicep muscle even through my turtleneck.

And the best part is that when the whistle blows at the end of the day, I can truly relax and put my feet up. No battling rush-hour traffic to hit the gym. No racing for an open treadmill. No waiting around for those goofy guys who think resting between sets means sitting on the weight machine for ten minutes doing nothing. No wiping up after sweaty, clueless gym rats who leave disgusting imprints behind. No elbowing for changing space in the locker room. No getting home so late that by the time I shower and prepare dinner, it's almost bedtime.

It's just a matter of getting up. If I say I'm going to do it, I do it. I don't make excuses. I get some extra sleep the night before. I tell myself over and over through drowsy eyes that this is good for me. And I think of those I might let down if my body is not strong, if my health is not maintained.

Ahhh, morning. Ahhh, endorphins. A better drug than caffeine any day.