WHY, on August 17, 1989, did I voluntarily submit to an entire hour of low-impact aerobics?

A. Because I ran out of branches for self-flagellation;

B. Because I have always wanted to do synchronized hip thrusts in a room with 15 scantily-clad strangers; or

C. Who cares?

Actually, I entered exercise hell at the Capitol Hill Squash and Fitness Club in Washington to avoid a tremendous lightning storm outside. It was either join the "Thursday Thumpers" aerobics class once or risk spending the rest of my life in a circus sideshow as "the man who was hit by lightning and now doesn't care what you put in his mouth."

In retrospect, I should have taken the risk.

Aerobics, I learned, does not adhere to basic human rights standards established by the Geneva Convention. For 60 minutes your body is at the mercy of an instructor who 1) is not human, and 2) probably tortures stray kittens in her spare time.

My aerobics experience was so traumatizing that I cannot believe a respected educational institution such as Harvard offers "low-impact" classes. Even more mind-boggling is that these classes are filled, and some people are disappointed they cannot get a place in them.

No, no, no. Harvard students should rank low-impact aerobics on a desirability scale somewhere between dining hall food and the QRR.

AEROBICS is, first and foremost, a vain activity. You dress up like a teenager from Mars, pummel your body for an hour, and then boast to friends that you are getting "toned."

NEWSFLASH: You are not getting toned. You are getting tortured.

Aerobics begins with five or 10 minutes of "warm-up." (For those not fluent in Aerobicspeak, "warm-up" means extreme pain.)

"Bend over! Touch your toes! Good! Again! Good! Again! Yes! Fantastic!" The ever-smiling aerobics instructor, who I shall call Satan, brims with enthusiasm to the point of hysteria. If she spoke this way on the street, she would be arrested for inciting a riot.

In an effort to save time during "warm-up," I offered to cut my leg muscles with a hedgeclipper. Satan just smiled. I don't think she heard me, though. She always smiles. She is probably smiling right now.

After "warm-up," Satan turns on music that the CIA used effectively for many years to get information from captured spies. The music usually juxtaposes a verb--such as "push" or "beat"--with the word "it" and repeats this inventive combination for 10 minutes at a time.