Let's be honest. Reading the sports pages these days means three things: football, hockey, and hoop. This, in turn, means reading the words that a small group of grown men are paid to write about a somewhat larger group of grown men.

Now, for a lot of people, that is what "sports" means--it means reading. Particularly these days when the sun seems to be setting just about the time you're finally waking up, and it's getting just too damn cold to keep putting on those short frilly pants and go slogging around the River inhaling carbon monoxide.

Granted, the temperature in Boston yesterday did break the record for December fifteenths by surging up to 66, but the federal employee who answers the phone at the weather bureau quickly reminded me that "this is December, and all of this will change tonight and tomorrow as a cold front moves in."

And from 21 years of experience with New England winters I can guarantee that yesterday was meteorological aberration of the first order. When I was a little kid going to grammar school near here, I could depend on at least a half-dozen days every winter when the snow was too intense to even think about taking in the mail, never mind tunneling over to school.

So as those "arctic air masses" start rolling in, the problem of getting exercise without spending a lot of money becomes acute. Most winter sports in this part of the world require a raid on operating capital, and there is no way around that: you want to skate, you gotta have skates; you want to ski, you gotta have skis; you want to swim, you gotta have a pool; and on it goes. (All of which is not to mention the financial and political problems involved in those ever-popular jaunts to Third World countries near the Equator.)

So, for most of us--that is, anyone who is not big enough to play hockey, or tall enough to play hoop, or rich and blithe enough to cultivate winter tans--the problem of keeping the body in one piece until the swallows fly remains.

In response to this situation and as a public service to our readers, I took it upon myself during the past few days to compile a list of alternative methods for getting exercise at Harvard during the short, cold days and long, colder nights ahead. The emphasis here is on activities that you can do alone, that don't require a lot of fancy equipment, that are not competitive, and that can be done in a non-hierarchical, non-authoritarian framework. (Note: Many of these suggestions come from friends who shall remain nameless to protect the real yahoos from the ridicule they deserve.)

* Checking out a lot of closed reserve books at Lamont Library every night is apparently a traditional favorite of snowbound Harvard students--it forces you to haul yourself out of bed before nine and shake it on over to the book drop before they start hitting you for 25 cents every half hour.

* Along those same lines, checking out a lot of heavy books and lugging them around is great for the wrists and the forearms. (This technique has the added advantage of creating an aura of intellectualism.)

* Taking the subway into Boston after 12:30 a.m. (This almost invariably leads to a long, brisk walk home with many looks over the shoulder--great for the legs and neck.)

* Trying to see your files.

* Settling the score with all those candy, Coke and pinball machines that have been ripping you off.

* Stargazing. (To receive the full benefit of his one, you should of course walk to the observatory rather than just spacing out right where you are.)

* Smashing all the furniture in your room for firewood. (This is great for the whole body, but it won't win you any points with the B&G men or with any non-psychotic, non-deaf people in your entry.)

* Getting into a full suit of long underwear without using any hands.