The Internet has changed my life in a number of ways, but this is one for which I'm most grateful.

You may recognize my name from the "Staying Fit" article in FolksOnline's "Look, Ma, I did something useful on the Web today" section. When I wrote that last June, I was a dedicated jock, running and lifting weights and taking Spinning classes and loving it.

But a few months later I began to slack off, and after that fell into a long slump. Not even the fitness sites on the Web could motivate me to get moving. For about five months, I barely stirred out of my home office--except to go out to dinner on Thursdays.

Every week, almost every day, I would tell myself, "Okay, this is it, time to get back on track," and then I would get so absorbed in my work that I "forgot" to exercise. I rationalized this by saying that I would at least do crunches and push-ups before getting into bed, knowing even as this thought crossed my mind that I was not going to do it.

And then the Net saved me.

In the summer of 1997, about the time I stopped exercising, I founded an e-mail discussion group for women writers, called Writergrrls. Writing is an isolating profession and even though I can't think of anything I would rather do for a living, I was getting lonely, even depressed.

I already belonged to Webgrrls San Francisco, an e-mail and real-life organization for women working in new media. The discussions seemed to center around the technology aspects of the industry, but I suspected that a lot of writers were lurking among the Web developers and software engineers on the list.

I posted an announcement about Writergrrls to the Webgrrls list and invited writers and editors to sign up. I also explained my vision, which is that we would gather in person at least once a month. We would not have meetings, not have agendas--simply get together and talk about writing and help each other feel less isolated.

It worked. Within five months, Writergrrls boasted 130 subscribers, and our monthly gatherings grew from 5 to 35 women. And among those women were Joyce and Karen.

I first met them through e-mail, while all three of us were writing Web site reviews for the same client. We sent each other URLs to sites we liked, traded witticisms about the lives of professional Web surfers, and generally gabbed about writing as a career.

Joyce and Karen had been friends for 10 years. One day I wrote Joyce asking how often they saw each other in person, and she said "Three times a week at the gym, and once or twice for lunch."

It turned out that the gym they attended was within the same "family" as mine, and they persuaded me to transfer my membership so we could all work out together. It was a great idea. I feel accountable to them and--for some reason--that makes it much more likely that I will work out on any given day.

The irony is, it took a month to be able to go to the gym together. You would think that as freelance writers we should be able to coordinate our schedules, but for the first four weeks it proved impossible.

They managed to go together, as they have for years, but I had interviews, meetings with my writing partner, and other obligations that forced me to work out at different times.

Karen in particular is a dedicated exerciser. She lives the furthest away from the gym, and she doesn't have a car, so it takes her much longer to get there than it takes me.

But she's there every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and if she can put up with the time commitment and the buses, then surely I shouldn't complain about having to drive three miles. When the weather is nice, I'm even taking my bicycle instead of the car...

I'm up to three or four workouts a week again, and my clothes are fitting better. More important, I'm feeling fit and healthy. I'm still not where I was before--it's a real struggle to get dressed, to stop working to get out of the house--but after a few e-mails to my "support group of two" I manage to get out the door.

When we do go together, we usually talk in the locker room before working out. Then we split up to do our various routines. I usually spend half an hour on a cardio machine and than an hour lifting weights. Joyce might swim her 100 laps while Karen attends a step class. Afterwards, we meet up in the hot tub until our sore muscles turn noodley and it's time to go home.

Of course, we don't always make it back to our home offices immediately. We've gone out to lunch, to the grocery store, even to the office supply emporium near our gym after a particularly grueling workout. As the only one with a car, I'll often provide the rides home, which of course leads to double-parking in front of their houses and chatting for another 10 minutes.

Even if I don't make it to the gym, I will take a walk or a short run, or do push-ups on the office floor. As long as I do * something * active in a day, I feel like I'm keeping my unspoken promise to them. And, of course, to myself.

My whole outlook on exercise is returning to where it was before--where I think it should be: that staying fit is the best way to live a long and joyous life. That working out is not an interruption but rather an important part of my workday. Most of all, I'm enjoying it again, thanks to the friends I met through e-mail.