I step into the gym after work and the place is outrageously crowded. I mount the industrial strength treadmill jammed between a small gal running with a ponytail bobbing behind her on my right and a young guy with sleeves torn off his jersey on my left. Somebody reeks of body odor, or maybe everyone does. It is a gym, after all. There are nine televisions spanning the area, each broadcasting a story scarier than the next one. The economic crisis, the war on terror, murder in the midwest, killer blizzards. I'm walking uphill (but not really) on my treadmill sandwiched between strangers and we're all together but we don't acknowledge one other and we're bathed in painful fluorescent lighting and we're all going nowhere even though we're running to get there as fast as we can.
Just a week ago I was walking along a dirt road under a blinking lighthouse while the sun set only for my visual pleasure. Will I ever stop wanting to be anywhere but here?
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