An attitude of gratitude

This Thanksgiving Day, my gym is open from 6 a.m. to 3 p.m., and I'll bet you one million marshmallow-topped candied yams that every single piece of cardio equipment is occupied from open to close. Because every November, on the fourth Thursday of the month, people turn into calorie-obsessed freaks. I've been guilty of it myself: With an impending binge looming on the 5 p.m. horizon, suddenly, each turn of the elliptical and every revolution of the Spin cycle and takes on growing importance. It's not the most espnW of stances and not something I'm particularly proud of, but in years past, I have absolutely spent two hours in the gym on the morning of Turkey Day, accruing a nice caloric nest egg to be spent later that evening on mashed potatoes.

In recent years, though, a combination of emotional maturity and my in-laws' tradition of spending Thanksgiving in sunny destination spots where lobster and mango relish replace turkey and stuffing have helped me change my ways. No longer do I report for gym duty like some crazed Spandex soldier, infatuated with earning enough fat gram credits to "let" me eat pie. (In fact, it's been over a decade since I even so much as glanced at the "calories burned" section of my cardio equipment on any given day.) I usually workout just like any other day of the week, shower up and dig in.

But before the tryptophan (or Omega-3, as it were) haze sets in, I always make a point of enjoying a private moment of thanks, recounting the people and things for which I'm most grateful.

This year, it will surely revolve around the fact that my husband and I, after nearly two years of hardcore trying and medical intervention, are expecting a little girl in February.

I'll be sending thanks to everyone from the skilled lab director who deftly inserted the sperm into the egg that became the embryo that became our soon-to-be-daughter, to the nice man with the very nice drugs who turned out the lights in order to retrieve said egg, to my friends and family for putting up with my emotional instability, complete with weekly (OK, daily) freakouts over things like, "I think the salad I just ate was made using tongs that touched bleu cheese and bleu cheese is sometimes unpasteurized and ohmygodpregnantwomencanteatunpasteurizedcheese!"

But there are also some far less serious things for which I am, nonetheless, thankful. Like wireless Internet and ebi-avocado rolls and MAC Prunella eyeliner; buttercream-filled whoopie pies and the feeling of peeling off a sweat-soaked sports bra after a solid workout; my new brown leather boots from Nordstrom Rack. Oh, and my new rack, from my baby.

And what about the pros? What are some of our favorite athletes no doubt giving thanks for this holiday? A few ideas…

I bet Hope Solo is thankful for ... professional foot massages and Bengay.

I bet Lisa Leslie is thankful for ... J Brand jeans with 40-inch inseams.

I bet Tom Brady is thankful for ... freakishly unblemished Brazilian genetics.

I bet Kim Kardashian is thankful for ... skilled TV editors and the 90-day return policy on her three wedding gowns.

I bet competitive eater Sonya "Black Widow" Thomas is thankful for ... pumpkin pie that goes down way easier than hot dogs.

I bet Danica Patrick is thankful for ... your newly purchased URL.

I bet Amber Miller (who recently ran the Chicago Marathon at 39 weeks pregnant and delivered a mere hours after crossing the finish line) is thankful for ... the pain-relieving qualities of endorphins.

I bet Maria Sharapova is thankful for ... killer vocal cords and hot tea with honey.

I bet the UConn women's basketball team is thankful for ... its rightful place in sports history.

I bet Anna Kournikova is thankful for ... good genes.

I bet Stacy Keibler is ... just thankful.

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