I have recently fallen into the unfortunate and dangerous habit of dropping my towel when I run. You'd think I'd learn after the 25th time or so, but no. Still, I continue to drape it over the handlebar of the treadmill where it limply remains until I hit a certain point in my run - usually somewhere between 5.8 and 6 miles per hour - when the vibrations of the machine become too much and the towel goes *whoosh!,* slipping off the handlebar and dropping onto the treadmill's belt, when I then have to do this impromptu and completely inelegant hop/dance/skip thing to keep from tripping on it and dying.
Well, maybe not dying, but falling down and going boom, most certainly.
Anyway, after it just narrowly misses demising me, the towel will then shoot off of the treadmill's belt to land in a tiny white pool on the floor. I never stop for it, because nearly every time this happens some kind and thoughtful person will eventually come along, pick it up, and return it to me. Usually, that kind and thoughtful person is this one particular older gentleman who looks to be nearly seventy, wears a sweatband 'round his wrinkled white head, and dedicates most of his workout to twisting, stretching, and deep knee bending. Whenever he's around I need not worry about the streams of sweat that threaten to run into my eyes and render me blind, because he's always quite Johnny-on-the-spot about it, "rushing" over nearly immediately to be my aged hero. From him, I can always expect a sincere, warm smile as he taps me on the shoulder to hand me my towel, and after dropping it again yesterday for the upteenth time, he did not disappoint.
However, yesterday was different.
Yesterday, he added a new twist to our little routine.
Yesterday, he winked.
And I'm now left to wonder - does he suspect I'm doing this purposefully?
Well, maybe not dying, but falling down and going boom, most certainly.
Anyway, after it just narrowly misses demising me, the towel will then shoot off of the treadmill's belt to land in a tiny white pool on the floor. I never stop for it, because nearly every time this happens some kind and thoughtful person will eventually come along, pick it up, and return it to me. Usually, that kind and thoughtful person is this one particular older gentleman who looks to be nearly seventy, wears a sweatband 'round his wrinkled white head, and dedicates most of his workout to twisting, stretching, and deep knee bending. Whenever he's around I need not worry about the streams of sweat that threaten to run into my eyes and render me blind, because he's always quite Johnny-on-the-spot about it, "rushing" over nearly immediately to be my aged hero. From him, I can always expect a sincere, warm smile as he taps me on the shoulder to hand me my towel, and after dropping it again yesterday for the upteenth time, he did not disappoint.
However, yesterday was different.
Yesterday, he added a new twist to our little routine.
Yesterday, he winked.
And I'm now left to wonder - does he suspect I'm doing this purposefully?
Labels: at the gym
1 Comments:
Hehe! I love the conspiratorial wink! Maybe your subconscious is trying to pull an Anna Nicole (the marrying a rich old guy part, not the accidental death part) so that you and Nathan can live out the rest of your days in leisure after he kicks the bucket...
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