This past August, about a year after my daughter was born, I entered a 12 mile road race.  I felt almost no pain during the race, and comfortably ran consistent 8 minute miles or a little faster. While running, I pictured myself as a prehistoric mother, running across a wide beautiful plain in search of food for my baby.  I thought to myself, I'm not just a runner, but a mother-runner. My ancestors survived because they had the ability to run long distances and to also speed up to catch game. Sports psychologists have studied the mental profiles of long distance runners and found that most of them tested as "normal", with the exception of one area, "imagination".  Runners are able to keep their minds busy and keep themselves focused for long periods of time. Thanks to my daughter, I now have a new image to keep myself busy during long runs, and to keep me from thinking about how much pain I'm in during races.  I think to myself that if I run fast enough and far enough I am honoring the spirits of the women who ran before me. Coincidentally, my daughter's grandmother is also a marathoner, so I'm hoping that she will be the third generation when she grows up. Think about it, all women have running in their genes, otherwise, we would not be here. We would not have survived. Something would have eaten us, or we would have failed to get enough to eat. At least that is what I will tell myself the next time I run a long race. A more recent, (circa 1988) daydream helped me to get through a very high intensity Step aerobics class.  I usually avoid group classes during the school year because I have a hard time following directions myself when I have been giving them to children all day long. I began taking Step aerobic classes in the late 1980's, when the spandex was bright and tight and shiny. Twenty five years later, it seems like everyone is wearing some version of matte charcoal pants and tops. During a recent aerobics class, I visualized myself on the brink of puberty in my electric-blue leotard and white bike shorts. In the late 1980's I used to ride my electric blue Centurion bicycle to the gym, lift free weights for thirty minutes, take one or two aerobics classes, then ride my bike home, a seven mile uphill climb.  Since I was introduced to exercise at such a young age, it has always seemed like so much fun.  Many of the basic aerobics moves have not changed so much, and I can still feel like a twelve year old jumping up, down and across a Step.