Just gimmee a spin bike, a vaccuum cleaner...or an air guitar

Good news about my knee: it's OK, I think.

I don't see my orthopedist till tomorrow to give me his expert's take on the state of my sprain, but as the knee's rightful owner, I can give you my semi-expert opinion that it seems to be healing nicely. I really only had two bad days of limping, icing and Advil. In fact, I spent yesterday exploring Universal Studios with my family and came pretty close to running with the stroller when my daughter told me no, she couldn't wait till after the ET Ride to use the potty.

Bad news about ME, though: I am in severe cardio withdrawal. This is the longest I've gone without exercise (I don't think sprinting to the Ladies' Room counts) since maybe 2008. It's making me restless. I find myself looking for excuses to move swiftly--racing, without actually running, to check whether there's a wait at a restaurant; leaping up, without actually jumping, to grab my kids an extra ketchup packet at Chick-Fil A.

I'm not sure what my ortho will tell me tomorrow about running, but I've got my fingers crossed he'll at least let me spin or use the elliptical, or vaccuum boisterously or something.

If I don't get my heart rate up into the 140s or higher soon, I'm going to become one of those fidgety women who never sits still, who is constantly twisting her rings around her fingers or fixing her kids' collars or pretending TV remotes haven't been invented so she has an excuse to change the channel manually.

Either that, or I'll audition for "So You Think You Can Dance."

Last night when we passed a grooving bar band at Unviersal's City Walk, my son started shaking his hips and doing some kind of quasi-karate-chop choreography, and I started--uncontrollably--shaking my hips and karate-chop dancing, too. Soon the two of us were burning up the pavers outside Jimmy's Margaritaville, air-guitaring, do-si do-ing, belly-gyrating and hair-tossing.

It was a blast, and as close I've come to the feeling of running since my injury.

So come on, Dr. Sheldon. Stop me before I dance again. Give me the green light to spin tomorrow. I can do a lot less damage cycling in the dark than shaking what my mama gave me out in public. And even though my kids love it now when I get down and get funky, they are young, 6 and 4. I think the video my husband took of me getting jiggy with it is more likely to be blackmail material for them than me one day, when they're older.

After running a half-marathon dressed like Rainbow Brite, I don't embarrass easily any more.