I work out at a basement gym in lower Manhattan. It has a name but a friend of mine calls it Testosterone Plaza, and that's how I've come to think of it. I joined because it's owned and run by some of the guys who work out there, meaning it's not a chain, and it's a gym, not a health club. 85% of the members are men, pretty much evenly divided gay and straight, and a fair number of them, and of the paltry number of women, are serious bodybuilders, the type who compete. Not me; I just go with the practical idea of keeping stretched and strong so I don't pull something playing basketball, and the demented thought that every day you work out you add a day to your life. This is obviously false, because if it were true you could just keep going to the gym and live forever. Anyway, in the women's lockerroom yesterday I overheard this: "I used to train so I'd be the strongest girl in the gym. No more, baby. Now I just want to be able to brush my own hair and unhook my own bra." I found this kind of discouraging, coming from someone who was competing in Ms. Natural Body (that is, no steroid use) competitions when I joined the place. It was partly hyperbole; she's got all kinds of muscles, and tremendous energy; but she's not young, and it just reminded me that we're all getting a little more not-young every day. Okay, this isn't news; but mostly it's a fact I'm able to ignore. I guess it's much easier to deny what's in the mirror than to deny what's happening around you.