Every slow news day I pick up the paper to read a story about President Clinton's running track, which has never been used. The latest bulletin informs me that there are now potted plants sitting on the virgin asphalt, which is a sure sign of its infrequent use.

The president is not the first person to amass a museum of good intentions. it's not a partisan thing. Admit it. How many of you have one of those little circular trampolines in your closet? Or a NordicTrack buried in dust balls under your bed? Or a Jane Fonda video still in the cellophane."The last piece of fitness equipment in our house to bite the dust was a stationary bicycle. We had that puppy in every room of the house before it came to land in the bathroom.

"Why don't you use it?" asked my husband.

"It kills my feet."

"How could it kill your feet?"

"Every time I get out of the shower, I trip over it."

We gave it to our daughter. Now she trips over it.

Physical fitness always sounds great. When we built our house, the contractor suggested that since both pf us talked about exercising, we block off one room for a workout room. It sounded perfect. We carpeted it. I bought a cute towel with an aerobic theme.

The door to the exercise room has been closed for 13 years. That is because the room holds everything we do not want anyone to see. There is not one piece of exercise equipment in it. It holds old photo albums, carpets that need cleaning, lamps with no shades, an ugly chair, Christmas wrapping paper, tennis rackets that need to be restrung, luggage, a turkey platter and an old mailbox.

We still call it the exercise room. Every time we are faced with something we want out of sight, we look at one another and say in unison, "The exercise room."

Without reading another story, I can tell you what is going to happen to President Clinton's jogging track. To take away from what it is, someone will plant a few geraniums in the pots. They will eventually grow into the cracks of the asphalt. There will be signs of an abandoned bicycle by Chelsea or chalk marks where she has played hopscotch. By the end of the term, look for someone to store an RV on it or little souvenirs left by Socks, the cat.

A visitor opened the dreaded door at our house recently and asked, "What room is this?" I told her it was an exercise room.

She looked at the mess and said, "What do you exercise in here?"

I told her, "My will not to exercise."