EDITORS: This column previously ran on June 14, 2012.
WASHINGTON -- Some time ago, I played a thrilling game of Ping-Pong with my editor, Tom the Butcher. I lost 22-20 in overtime. Afterward, Tom said he was worried I might be a little out of shape.
"Why ... do ... you ... say ... that?" I wheezed.
This had not exactly been Ping-Pong as played by those wiry Asian guys in short pants who stand 15 feet away from the table and launch blurry shots that look like rounds from tracer bullets. That made Tom conclude I was inappropriately winded. An interrogation ensued.
Tom: Do you get any regular exercise?
Me: I walk the dog.
Tom: That's it?
Me: Uh, yeah.
Tom: So, basically you're saying you might get more exercise than a person who cannot walk.
Me: Well, not a Paralympian or anything.