Friday, October 06, 2006

The Seasons' Wheel, Leafed in Gold

Time to take my bicycling habit into the gym for the winter. Bye bye, endless parade of bat-blind Buickers and wallowing, zigzagging boat trailers. So long, idyllic rides only rarely interrupted by moments of near-lethal violence.

... and a cheery Hello! to the subtler pageantry of indoor exercise: the gym employee who loudly harangues her ex for 30 minutes at a time while he shuffles desperately on the treadmill; competition heating up in the locker room for the coveted "naked loitering fat guy" endurance award; guys who break pieces off the machines ("What's this thing for?"); folks who wrench the TV around so nobody else can see it then crank the volume all the way up; the cool swaggerer who quickly crippled himself on the treadmill and had to be hauled off to the showers in a bucket; and many more.

I just got my shin clawed open by a rabid spinning bike in the gym. In retrospect today's post seems sadly laced with imbecilic hubris. Subtle pageantry my aching leg.


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