I read FitPregnancy. It seems slightly silly to me, this being my fifth (I'm a breeder!) pregnancy and all and yet I'm still drawn by the lure of Build An Entire Maternity Wardrobe Out of 5 Simple Pieces (of clothing I could never afford) and essays by professional athletes who do two-hour trail runs when 9 months pregnant (despite the fact that I can barely chug out a mile these days). One thing never fails to catch my eye: research. While most of it only pertains to preggos - apparently swimming at least once a week helps you use less pain meds during delivery (okay, universe, I hear you!) - there was a piece of general interest today.

I don't have the exact quote but the research blurb stated that women who are of a normal weight but perceive themselves to be overweight gain twice as much weight as women who can correctly identify their body type. Overweight or obese women who perceive themselves to be of a normal weight or underweight gain eight times the amount of weight of a woman who can correctly identify her body type.

Genetics, friends, social pressure, media influences, and family are all factors in weight gain that are often discussed but this was the first time that I have come across research that says a distorted body image causes you to gain weight. And it doesn't matter whether you think you weigh less than or more than you actually do - apparently any distortion causes a measure of weight gain!

The implication is that no matter what your weight, if you are honest with yourself about it then you will gain less weight over time. It's so simple and yet so hard to do!

The magazine blurb being annoyingly short, it did not attempt to explain these results. My first question is do the women with the distorted body image really believe that they are heavier/lighter? Or are they knowingly lying to themselves? If they do truly believe what they told researchers then perhaps that indicates a measure of body unawareness that would correlate to food intake. On the other hand, if they are willing to lie to themselves about their weight then perhaps they also are willing to lie to themselves about food intake. My personal theory - unsupported, of course, by anything but my own eating disordered past to draw from - is that women who are uncomfortable with their body have an uncomfortable relationship with food.

I'll admit that I have a difficult time being honest with myself about my body. If you show me one of those body-type lineups (as they often do as part of eating disorder therapy) and ask me to pick the one that most closely resembles me, I always end up picking one bigger than myself. According to this research, that puts me at risk of gaining double the pregnancy weight of a woman without my mental issues. Scary stuff for someone who is terrified of gaining weight!

How about you - are you able to be honest with yourself about your body type? Have you noticed a correlation between a distorted self-image and weight gain? Anyone else have a shameful magazine addiction??

Once upon a time in a rainy kingdom far, far away on Ye West Coast, I was a Godiva girl. No, not the riding-a-horse-naked-through-town kind (can you imagine the chafing?) but the chocolate-pimping kind. My day job was as a professor but due to my directional dyslexia I ran a stop sign and totaled my car thus necessitating a night job. I didn't want anything that required brain power and it also needed to be temporary because I was only sticking it out until I got my car fixed.

I considered it divine intervention when I saw the help wanted sign on a jaunt through the mall. A short interview with the manager (Do you like chocolate? Can you work nights? Can you smile for three hours while a woman tries to decide between a champagne truffle and a raspberry star while her toddler licks the entire display case from top to bottom?) and by that evening I was wearing a black apron with gold lettering and a name tag that said Sharon - the closest they could get to Charlotte without actually having to make me a name tag.

My first night was awesome. They paid me to sample every single chocolate Godiva makes. At the time I believe it was over 60 items. The down side is that you have to do it all at once so I ended up just taking one tiny bite of each $26.50/lb confection and then - yes - throwing the rest away. The rest of the night wasn't as exciting but other than doling out a few little gold boxes and learning how to tie the signature Godiva bow - which has come in handy many a Christmas let me tell you - all I had to do was chat with the other night salesperson.

Like any minimum wage job, there was a revolving cast of characters so entertaining that I should probably write a book just about them, but it occurred to me after the second week straight of listening to Odes to Eminem that one thing would make this job totally perfect: my best friend Tasha.

Tasha had an infectious laugh, a rapier wit and, best of all, the ability to make fun of someone in such a nice way that they totally ended up laughing right along with her. And she needed a job. Perfect! I told my manager, a woman who still wore a black velvet mock turtleneck and quoted Reality Bites despite it being well into the new millennium, and she agreed to interview Tash. Seeing as Tasha was smart, cute, funny and hygienic, I figured we'd be snacking on samples and playing Spot the Tranny by the next evening.

So I was dumbfounded when Tasha told me she didn't get the job. I knew my manager was desperate for night-shift workers. I knew there was no way Tasha had blown the interview. So what happened?

I didn't want to believe her when she told me the reason, calmly, as if it hadn't bothered her at all. You see, Tasha was fat. Not gargantuan but definitely well into the plus sizes. I was incredulous. Surely they wouldn't say "Sorry, you can't work here you're too fat." I mean, wouldn't the mere utterance of that phrase cause lawyers to descend on our fake foliage like a pack of locusts? She explained to me that my manager just said the job had been filled but that she was sure the real reason was her weight.

Never one to hold my tongue, and let's be honest, not caring about the job anyhow, I confronted my manager at my next shift.

Me: So who'd you hire for the night shift?

Turtleneck Girl: Oh, I haven't found anyone yet.

Me: What about Tasha?

TG: Oh, you know, she wasn't right for here.

Me: Why not?

TG: I just don't think she'd fit in.

Me: How would she not fit in?

TG: Well... I don't think the aprons would fit her. (Hello! Aprons have got to be the most one-size-fits-all item of clothing ever invented!) And this is a pretty small store and sometimes there's a lot of people jammed in here.

Me: You think she wouldn't fit in the store?!

TG: Plus, we've got this whole company image to adhere to and you know....

Other Worker Guy: (leaning in and whispering) Look sweetie, people don't want to buy chocolate from a fat girl. They want to have the illusion that they can eat the chocolate and still look like us. If there's a fat girl behind the counter reality smacks them right in the face. You can kiss your sales good-bye.

My manager went back to fixing the register tape and the other worker went back to stacking little gold boxes and I lost my innocence.

I should have quit on the spot, on principle. But I didn't. I got my car fixed and quit a few months later and Tasha and I never spoke of the incident again. But to this day, every time I pass a Godiva store I peek in, looking for overweight salespeople. I've never seen one yet.

I'm curious: does it matter to you if the person selling you pricey chocolate (or clothing or any other luxury item) is overweight? Have you ever noticed a preponderance of skinny people in retail? Have you ever experienced discrimination based on your looks?

Even better, all of the genetic tests have come back 100% clean so it seems that the Turner's Syndrome that killed our oldest daughter, Faith, will not be an issue this time around. There were tears when the ultrasound tech gave us the news. It's not that I wanted a girl more than a boy but rather I just never thought I'd get this opportunity. My husband and three boys are very excited (although I'm pretty sure the boys don't even know what the word "girl" means yet). I just feel extremely blessed.

And nervous. Because I wouldn't be me if I hadn't already started worrying about how fit I am, with all of my self-image issues, to raise a daughter. The day we found out, I immediately called my sister to tell her the good news.

"Oh, yay! A little Charlotte!" she exclaimed. (It's widely acknowledged that our boys look just like my husband - fortunately he's the handsomest man I know.)

For a brief second I pictured a little girl with curly black pigtails, pink cheeks and a crooked grin, just like I had growing up. And then that image was erased by years of fighting said curly hair, trying to hide the ruddiness with makeup and worrying about my thin-lipped smile. Oh, and don't forget my nose. I gasped, "I hope she at least gets his long eyelashes! And thick, wavy hair! And green eyes! Oh, and I definitely hope she gets his metabolism."

My sister paused. "She's the size of a banana and you're worrying about her metabolism?"

I know. I'd just found out an hour ago that she was healthy and my insecurities were already intruding upon her life.

My sister, who has two daughters herself, heard my deep sigh and consoled me, "It gets easier. You'll get better at it."

I'd better because if I know one thing, it's this: Self hate is not the legacy I'm leaving my daughter. My love for books, my gregariousness, my delicate hands - there are many good things I hope she inherits from me.

In the meantime though I really do hope she gets my husband's eyelashes. Seriously, they're so long he trims them with scissors because they bother him.

PS> For those of you who care about such things, back when I was 10 weeks pregnant I did use Intelligender, that new pee-in-a-cup baby gender predictor kit that you can now buy at Walgreen's. You can use it as early as 6 weeks and they say it's 90% accurate. It was in my case! It said girl and the ultrasound confirmed it. Unfortunately it also told Gym Buddy Allison that she is having a girl and four ultrasounds later we're pretty sure it's a boy. So take that for what you will!

A lot of research and discussion has been devoted to how people eat in groups. We already know that people eat about 30% more when dining with friends and that teen girls have a reduced incidence of eating disorders when they participate in family dinners and that we eat more in "healthy" restaurants, among other interesting food-as-a-social-construct tidbits. But a new book (which I haven't read but really want to, thanks NPR!), What We Eat When We Eat Alone, finds authors Deborah Madison and Patrick McFarlan on a quest to discover how people choose to eat if left entirely to their own devices.

The question du jour - what do I eat when I eat alone? - is one I have not given much thought to. This is probably because I honestly cannot remember the last time I ate alone. Having wee ones at home 24/7 precludes any semblance of normal dining, much less solitary dining. In fact, these days I'd settle for a meal where nobody regurgitates their food, throws silverware or insults my cooking while invoking their favorite potty word.

The last time I was alone at all, when I accompanied my husband sans children on a business trip, I was too busy relishing the fact I got to lounge around on a pillow-top mattress and watch all the MTV I could guiltily enjoy (what?) to worry about eating. I had a bag of trail mix, a packet of turkey jerky, instant oatmeal that I could make with the coffee maker, and a mint chocolate Luna bar to tide me over during the days until dinnertime when we'd go out with his coworkers to some crazy expensive restaurant and eat a lot of yummy food. Which brings me back, again, to the fact that I haven't eaten alone years.

Still trying to answer the question, I went way back in time to my pre-marriage college years. And you know what? Between living with 3-5 other girls (don't ask), dating and coworkers I don't think I ever ate alone even then! How weird is it to be a grown woman of 31 and to have never had a memorable meal alone? Thinking back on it, I came to an epiphany of sorts - I don't like to eat alone. If I am alone, I don't eat. I don't "forget" per se, like some people claim to do, but I'll put off eating until I can share a meal with others. I guess I've always been a social eater.

So my long-winded answer to what I eat when I'm alone is that I don't eat meals alone. I'll snack - or not - until the rest of the pack shows up dragging the wooly mammoth behind them. But someday all my kids will be in school (I know, I can't imagine it either) and ostensibly I will have at least one meal a day all by my lonesome. Will I make lunch dates with friends? Call my sister and eat on the phone with her? (Yes, we do that.) Or will I finally learn to enjoy the pleasure of solitary dining?

All of which makes me wonder what you eat when you eat alone. Do you cook yourself a beautifully crafted, nutritionally balanced meal eaten off real china at the table? Lean Cuisine in front of the TV? Or do you just kinda snack like me?

You've seen the workout program ads: in between shots of glistening, contracting abdominals and hyper smiling people who only sweat in socially acceptable places - your amped up cleavage if you are a woman, your shaved pecs if you are a man - comes the promise. What, you ask, can a DVD workout/exercise book/smiling B-list celeb promise me when it comes to cardio other than a perfect body, chiclet teeth and a spray tan so authentic that real sunshine is jealous? Why, the promise of amazing ultra-high superbad caloric burn of course!

I was reminded of this the other day as the Gym Buddies and I were sweating away on the elliptical machines (not our go-to workout but they were refinishing all the floors in the studios so it's what we were left with) and one of those ubiquitous exercise program infomercials came on. While we were giggling about watching people on TV exercise while actually exercising, large letters flashed up on the screen. "BURN up to 1,000 CALORIES AN HOUR!" flashed over all those heaving chests - the "up to" in conveniently small type of course.

This infomercial - may Billy Mays rest in peace - is not unique. All fitness programs, televised and otherwise, seem to make some kind of caloric promise. But how accurate are these claims? And does knowing the potential calorie burn of a workout help you make a better choice on how to sweat?

Can You Really Burn 1,000 Calories An Hour?
Anecdotal evidence first: According to my overly generous heartrate monitor of which I was once so attached to that I would turn around and go home to get the chest strap if I accidentally forgot it despite the fact that being small chested meant that it looked as if I was wearing some kind of strange back brace, I have burned over 1,000 calories in a single workout. The scene was "Holiday Turbokick" a special brand of torture that Turbo Jennie likes to put us through on occassions like the day before Thanksgiving, where we do 8 "turbos" (a high-intensity inverval lasting between 30 seconds and 2 minutes) interspersed with 4 finales or some such craziness. By the end I am turboing in a puddle of my own filth and can wring out my tank top like a Shamwow. It's enough to make a girl puke up her turkey before she even eats it, is what I'm saying. But by the time we hit cool down, I had burned just over 1,000 calories.

So it would seem possible - although unlikely (who wants to work out so hard you vomit every day?) - to attain that magic number. Except for two problems. 1) My heart rate monitor isn't terribly accurate. While I trust it's ability to read my actual beats per minute, its calorie burn function is apparently calculated based off a 6'6" male Russian Ice Swimmer. To prove this, I switched heart rate monitors with Gym Buddy Allison, who wears a Polar, and racked up 200-400 less calories per hour than my watch gave me.

2) Even the venerable Polar can't really tell you your caloric burn as metabolism is so individual as to render any mathematical formula at least slightly inaccurate. The research in this area is more prolific than one might think. Companies that make a living off of guaranteeing a good workout have invested a lot of energy into trying to figure out what number of calories people can expect to expend using their machines or programs. What they have discovered however is that while they can predict how many calories an individual, say Michael Phelps, is burning, those results are very difficult to generalize. In addition to individual metabolisms there are simply too many other variables. Therefore, the honest companies will give you a range of calories. The disingenuous ones will use that sneaky little phrase "up to" and then give you a Michael Phelpsian number.

Why Does it Matter How Many Calories You Burn?
Every fitness expert will tell you that weight loss, gain or maintenance comes down to simple math. It's all about the calories you take in through food in relation to those you expend through daily life and exercise. This over simplified truism often leads people to think things like, "If the treadmill says I burned 250 calories, then that means I can eat a 200 calorie muffin and still come out losing!" This, in turn, has made calorie burn the gold standard in assessing a fitness program's worth.

But dig a little deeper and you will realize that not only is calorie burn not the best indicator of a workout's power, it actually distracts you from other benefits of exercise. For instance, weight lifting typically doesn't burn comparatively as many calories as cardio for the same amount of time and yet it has many advantages like increased strength, muscle mass and overall functionality. Similarly, HIIT (high intensity interval training) burns a smaller amount of calories during the actual workout but causes a much greater spike in HGH (human growth hormone) than twice the amount of traditional medium-intensity cardio. Lastly cardio exercise is good for many things like increasing your oxygen utilization and building endurance, besides just burning off last night's dessert.

Is It A Good Thing To Burn 1,000 Calories An Hour?
Ignoring for a moment whether or not it's even possible to burn that many calories, one must ask if it is even a worthwhile fitness goal to strive to burn a particular high number of calories. To get that kind of calorie burn, one would have to push very hard in a high intensity type of cardio. Much has been said - and ignored - about the dangers of too much aerobic exercise in the highest heart rate zones. It elevates the stress hormone cortisol, causes systemic inflammation, necesitates longer recovery and increases your risk of injury, just to give you the short version.

In addition, an often overlooked fact by dieters and diet purveyors alike is that the more you exercise, the hungrier you get. From my personal experience the more calories I burn, the more my body wants to replace them - and fast. What's the quickest source of glycogen for our depleted muscular system? Sugar. I have found that after a long training run, it's almost impossible for me to stay away from the Jelly Bellies and other simple carbs for the rest of the day. However, when I strength train and/or keep my training volume low my sugar cravings diminish significantly (unless I'm PMSing but that's a different story entirely). Research backs me up by showing that dieters who create a calorie deficit purely from exercise don't lose weight - because their bodies eat to adjust. So, what's the point in burning (up to) 1,000 calories if my body is immediately going to want to replace (at least) 1,000 calories with whatever food is easiest for me to scarf down?

Conclusions
Calorie burn doesn't matter. First, chances are that unless you are an Olympic swimmer, you're not burning what they say you are burning. Second, it's probably not giving you the result you are looking for. If you are exercising for weight loss, then you aren't doing yourself any favors by torching excessive calories and signalling your body to go into eat mode. And if you're exercising for fun and/or weight maintenance then calorie burn is just another number.

All of which is not to say that exercise - even an occasional session of long, intense cardio - shouldn't be done. Ask any triathlete, marathon runner or Iron(wo)man if their race was worth it and most of them will give you an enthusiastic yes. But it isn't because they burned 3,000 calories, it's because they were having fun and it gave them a sense of accomplishment. Does it mean that I don't get a great workout from Holiday Turbokick if I don't burn quadruple-digit calories? No! I'm still increasing my endurance and having a lot of fun to boot. My point: When we are evaluating the merit of a particular fitness program, there are a lot of better factors to consider than supposed maximum calorie burn.

But enough about what I think! What do you think about the calorie-burn claims of fitness programs/machines/gurus? Anyone else ever get obsessed with their heart rate monitors? Anyone have a particular fitness infomercial that they just can't stop watching??

What activity does every personal trainer tell you to do if you are injured/cross training/looking for a change up? Swimming. What activity does every pregnancy expert tell you is the best exercise for gestating moms? Swimming. What activity does my dear friend Dr. Jon - who is 70+ but looks like he's 40 and acts like he's 20 - swear by? Swimming (and some kind of crazy form of karate that I'm dying to try and yet also terrified of). And what have at least a dozen of you asked me at one point or another to do a Great Fitness Experiment on? Swimming.

I hate swimming.

Let's get one thing straight: being raised by parents who consider swimming a life skill and not optional, swim lessons were mandatory all the way up to high school. I can swim. I can freestyle, back stroke, breast stroke and - the one I hate the least - side stroke just fine. I just don't like to.

I know what you're thinking - Charlotte's body image issues rear their ugly head again! But, weirdly, that's not my problem. First of all pregnancy gives me a pass on having a flat stomach and secondly the only people who swim at my Y during the time I'm there are the elderly and tiny tots. I'm fine with the whole swimsuit-in-public thing. So what's my deal, then? Why aren't I hopping gleefully into the water and letting the buoyancy cradle my baby and my soul?

1. I hate being cold. I'm so intolerant of cold that it's become a running joke in our household. And to me anything short of a hot tub is considered cold. You know that feeling of first diving into a cold (okay, probably lukewarm) pool and slicing into the water? Some people love it. They think it's refreshing or something. I hate it. I'm immediately freezing and then I'm so grouchy about being cold that the first twenty minutes of my workout are ruined by my crabbiness. And then? Once I'm done I have to reverse the process by leaving the now-warm pool (no, I didn't pee in it) and facing the cold of the pool deck followed by the even colder locker room.

2. I hate being wet. I have really dry skin and the chlorine is like a chemical peel, especially on my face. I also just don't enjoy the sensation of water on my skin. It irritates me. I haven't taken a bath since I was 10 because I can't stand sitting in water.

3. I feel like I can't breathe. All pools have that layer of chlorinated warm moist air right above the water that unless you lift your head completely out of the water - like you are not supposed to unless you are a granny in a shower cap - you must inhale and exhale. I feel like I'm breathing through a damp rag.

4. I don't like wet hair. Confession time: I only wash my hair twice a week. Oh, I shower every day (except when I don't) but having very dry, very thin hair it actually works out better to not wash it every day. Honestly it styles better when it has 2-3 days of gym sweat build-up in it. When I do wash it, it's a pain to do. I do not have wash-n-wear hair. It doesn't dry straight or curly but must be coerced - with great heat - to do one or the other. However, if frizzy ever comes back in style I'm all set.

5. It's such a production. You have to remember your suit and your goggles and a towel and extra clothes and a blow dryer and lotion and shampoo and flip flops and your arm wings (kidding!). It takes forever to get in the pool and twice as long to get out. Not to mention that you have to shave places that in a month or two I won't even be able to see thanks to the belly. Why go through all that when you can just arrive and be sweating it out in a class (that doesn't require a bikini wax) within 5 minutes?

6. You can't talk. You guys know that my gym time is my social time. My head is a noisy place and scary things happen when I am left alone with it for too long. While you can swim with a friend, that's really in name only as you won't hear, see, or talk to them for the duration of your workout. I'm chatty; I'd miss my friends. Even if they were just in the next lane over.

7. I wear contacts. Without them I'm blind. (True story: when I was 16 I jumped on the back of a boy in the pool whom I thought was my brother - thanks to my seriously limited vision - only to realize my horrible mistake when he turned around with an indignant "Can I help you?") Swimming + contacts = all kinds of problems.

Now that I've thoroughly depressed you, you may be wondering why I unleashed this torrent of whine on you. Here's the thing: I want to want to swim. If that makes any sense. I want to like it! It's such a great workout and I need a change right now and, well, I'm pregnant! So I'm turning to you guys - I know tons of you love to swim. Tell me about it! Help me turn my frown upside down and belly flop gloriously into the pool!

What's great about swimming? Why do you like it? How have you overcome your challenges with swimming?

Scene: the sweat-soaked, MRSA-ridden, gritty, black stretching mats at the Y. My face is planted in a pool of someone else's grime while I try and stretch my quads. I am trying not to inhale. Grossed out? It gets better. I look up to see my friend Bobby (Hi, Bobby!!) taking off his running shoe and gasp as his sock is covered in oozy bright red blood, nearly to his ankle. Bobby seems unperturbed. "That's funny," he says. "I didn't even feel anything!"

"Blister?" I ask. I shouldn't be grossed out - a mother who is a community health ed nurse breeds that out of you right quick - but I suppress a shudder. A better friend would run to get him paper towels and a band-aid. In this instance I don't even qualify as a decent friend as all I can do is stare.

"Nope," he answers as he peels off the sock.

Fresh blood can look like a lot more than it is. Now I consider running to get band-aids - to put over my eyes. I blame childbirth. Ever since my little monkeys started spewing bodily fluids I've gotten a lot wussier. My mother is not proud.

"Sharp toenail," he finally declares. I faint.


Do You Really Want to Hurt Me?
My shin splints. Gym Buddy Allison's rolled ankle. Gym Buddy Candice's poltergeist rib. Injuries and exercise, sadly, go hand in hand.

Ace bandages and knee braces are the fashion statement du jour on the treadmill. Bruises, wrist straps and weight belts abound on the weight floor (but no, all the shaved heads are not indicative of a mental injury or a Britney fetish - although I'd love to see you ask one of those meatheads about it!)

In fact, if you pick any random person at the gym I bet you a thirty-pound dumbbell dropped on your chest that they have an injury story to tell. If they're really, um, lucky they even have their very own pet injury - one they can feed & clothe and love just like a Webkin but without the yearly subscription fee!


Do You Really Want to Make Me Cry?
I won't tell you about the worst exercise injury I've ever seen (In high school a soccer player caught his foot in a hole in the grass and went down, breaking his FEMUR. It sounded like a RIFLE going off. The bone came through his SKIN. His coach THREW UP. Sorry, that just popped out. I think I still have PTSD from it.) but I can tell you some things to help avoid exercise injuries.

1. Don't exercise. Oh, wait. Not an option? Fine. You can do Sit and Be Fit. Mmm... except I bet somebody somewhere has fallen off their chair.

All right - if you exercise you're going to get hurt. To be fair, if you do anything other than breathe you are going to get injured eventually. Which is why you need to be as smart as you can (wear appropriate clothing, ask for a spot when you need it, stretch properly etc.) but don't despair when the inevitable occurs. (Knock, knock, knock on wood. Well, at least I think this is wood. If it's not and I get injured today I'm so suing IKEA.)


Working Around An Injury
1. Rest. I am the worst possible person to talk to about this because as long as I can still get my shoes on, I'm in the gym that day. Hopefully you are not as compulsive as I am. But in case you are, at least try and rest the affected part. If your shins hurt (aHEM), try swimming or bike riding. If your wrists are sore avoid pull-ups and push-ups. The key here is to keep resting your Achilles heel even after it starts to feel better. Depending on the severity of your injury it could take weeks or even months. When I stress-fractured my leg last year I was off all high-impact activity for 6 weeks. If I can do it, anyone can.

Ice, heat, massage and those crazy-fun foam rollers can also do wonders for mild injuries.

2. Get the proper equipment. Don't let your pride or impeccable fashion sense prevent you from getting those butt-ugly orthopedic shoes or knee brace or basketball goggles (hee!) if you need them. Wear them with pride, bro, wear them with pride!

3. Don't repeat. This sounds like a total duh but since I am so guilty of this one, I'm going to say it: don't make the same mistake over again. Even if this means you can't exercise at the level you used to. If you hurt your knee because you upped your mileage too fast then don't do it again! Up your mileage slowly next time. Train for the surface you run on. Don't walk and chew gum at the same time.

4. Strengthen the supporting muscles. I can't say enough good things about this one. If you have knee pain, do more quad, ham & calf exercises. Stronger legs will help stabilize your knee and help it from going out again. Back pain? Make sure you are doing lots of core exercises. Ask a doc or physical therapist for exercises you can safely do to help with your injured area.

5. Whine a lot. Well, actually, have a good support group. Complaining loudly to a friend makes it feel so much better. Misery loves sympathy:)

AIEEEEE!
I probably shouldn't ask this but I can't help myself: what's the worst exercise injury you've ever seen? Have you ever had to work around an injury? Anyone else have a pet injury?