I was a little concerned this morning that my beatific smile and the practically radioactive glow emanating from my cheeks would sound off orange alert bells all over the airport, and earn me a pat down I'd never forget. Okay, well not so much concerned as wild with anticipation, but we'll just let that be our little secret.
No guys, I did not spend the night before getting laid. Nope, but I did pop out of bed before the crack of dawn to head to the health club to work out. Not for me the self-indulgence of sleep in the wee hours of the morning, of sweet dreams filled with chocolate croissants and jelly donuts. I am soaring into a new period of spiritual awakening, and with that comes a life of monastic asceticism, which means a morning journey to nowhere on an elliptical exercise machine. Kind of a virtual pilgrimage.
Even on a virtual journey, there are friends to be made, and my seemingly pointless pedaling was no exception. Monks wander around in lonely silence, but they're not really alone; there are plenty of hooded journeymen right there beside them, on the same endless journey. Likewise, as I pedaled away furiously to nowhere, I was joined by my fellow sleep deprived and sugar starved predawn wanderers, and together we searched for enlightenment (while sharing a chuckle or two).
Let's just call my fellow pilgrims from this morning Mutt and Jeff. (I promised them I would protect their identities, though there was nothing they said or did that would warrant protection.) Mutt did tell me I was the woman with the best ass in the gym, which led me to offer him sex right on the spot, although of course I was only kidding. Of course. Anyway, I revoked the offer when I discovered I was the only woman in the gym. Everybody's a comedian.
Who woulda thunk it? A bunch of driven, monkish, practically nocturnal misfits cross my path while I'm slogging away on some machine well before the sun comes up, doing my best imitation of a rat on a wheel, and they manage to put a smile on my face (and some glow in my skin). And as adorable as they were, they didn't need to smear ash on my face and pretend to be firemen and rescue me from my own self-imposed torture. Now that's talent. No, it's downright enlightened, I think.
As counterintuitive as it may seem, the crowd in the gym at five a.m. is a lot less frenzied than the later crowd -- the ones that snooze the puffiness out of their eyes and take the time to select workout clothes that aren't torn. Maybe the early birds are not as entertaining as the spin psychos who can't spin unless they have their one favorite bike in their one favorite spot; maybe they're not as awe-inspiring as the fanatics who press their faces longingly against the glass doors of the spin room a good half hour before the previous class ends, ready to sprint in and trample anyone who stands between them and their beloved virtual vehicle. Maybe it's because we're all too comatose to flaunt the craziness, but the special brand of quiet compulsiveness we early birds share seems to be good for my soul.
Regrettably, I didn't get my airport security pat down. I could have done without the stinky traveler next to me on the plane but hey, nirvana would get pretty humdrum if you experience it all day long. I'm looking forward to getting back home so I can continue on my elliptical path, with Mutt and Jeff and the other pre-dawn lunatics ready to give me a chuckle if I start to lose my way.
No comments:
Post a Comment