If any of you loyal readers have read Alan Moore's "Dark Knight Returns," you know that in the beginning of the book, Batman comes out of retirement sometime in his late 40's (I could be off). He puts on the suit, beats up some bad guys, then feels like hell the next day.

I was going throught the EXACT same thing this evening at my cardio kick box class. All those old karate muscles dormant for so long, cracking and groaning under pressures that haven't been felt in years.

Feeling old, yet dramatic, I remembered to look around the room at the dozen or so women, most of whom looked younger than I, bouncing around having a grand old time.

Sufficiently humbled, I reminded myself of my womanly and writerly rejections. If nothing else, I am trying. If I hear, "I can't date you because I'm busy until 2006," or "Your story is not what we're looking for," and then I have six or seven cardiac arrests when I work out, at least I can say that I went down swinging.

Or I died with my boots on.

Or I kept a stiff upper lip.

Or who dares, wins.

Or some other cliche.

Mozart wrote his first symphony when he was five. Mine still needs a little work.