THE Stairmaster at the Quadrangle Recreational Athletic Center (Q-RAC) looks harmless enough--something like one of those horizontal escalators at the airport, only much smaller, and with the handles from the handicapped bathroom thrown in.

Like sex, everyone seems to be doing it these days. Everyone talks about doing it. Everyone survives doing it. But I'm not quite sure that everyone enjoys doing it.

After months of watching my roommates troop off to the gym each day and return looking robust and healthy, I decided it was time for me to give it a try.

I squeezed into my best pair of flesh-constraining Spandex, then pulled on my most inspiring t-shirt (the one that depicts Garfield saying, "I'm not overweight, I'm undertall,") and a sweatshirt. Palms sweating, I headed across Garden St.

THE Stairmaster sits upstairs from all of the other weight equipment, as if it belongs in a class above the nautilus machines and the ordinary, technologically boring stationary bikes.

I stepped onto the peddles of the machine. I looked at the instructions; the first one--written in bold letters--was to consult a physician.

Consult a physician? For what? To tell me how to use the thing? I was about to get off and call UHS for an appointment, when I thought to myself, "How dangerous could this thing be?"

Then, I happened to notice the Health Warning.

Caution: Stop exercise if you feel pain, faint or short of breath.

The grammatical ambiguity of the statement was disheartening. Was I supposed to stop when I felt faint or after I actually fainted? And isn't being short of breath what exercise is all about? I got short of breath just walking over.

The Stairmaster was sounding a lot like one of those rides at an amusement park that 13-year-old boys ride until they throw up. I scanned the rest of the console for a "You must be at least this tall" notice, thinking that my short body might disqualify me.

No such luck. It was either the Stairmaster or three hours of high-impact aerobics. I figured that the Stairmaster couldn't be that bad.

I turned it on.

THE peddles lowered and the lights blinked. The machine asked me to enter my weight.

Ha.