Tuesday, April 9, 2013

Passion at the gym

So there I am feeling virtuous at 7:30 in the morning, sailing along on my favorite treadmill. I like this one best because it’s on the end, so I only have to deal with one neighbor, and I have a direct sightline of the Today Show on the monitor.  My head is up, my headset is on,
and my legs are moving. Okay, I’m walking, not running, but I’m traveling at a pretty good clip.

Matt Lauer is interviewing Hugh Jackman and . . .
I’ve almost forgotten that my left knee is acting up and I have another 15 minutes to go.

My sense of smell is suddenly assailed by something overpoweringly pungent. How can I possibly continue in this blue cloud enveloping me and anyone else in the surrounding fifteen feet?

I look to my right and a woman of a certain age has taken command of the treadmill there. She’s diminutive, maybe about 5’ 1”, with a face full of make-up and hair that looks stamped out of a machine.  Her lilac workout gear is color coordinated right down to her purple accented sneakers. All I can think of is that she must be trolling for action, a ludicrous concept when I look at the talent assembled on a typical weekday morning at the gym.

This is dedicated to her.

(Channel your inner Barry Manilow and hum a little “Copacabana” as you read)

Her name was Stella, she was a grandma
With cat’s-eye glasses in her hair, and a seat that sagged to there
She came each morning, and scanned for live ones
And while she tried to keep up hope, it usually was no soap.
Across a crowded floor, they all looked ninety-four.
They were old and they had walkers
She had dreamed of more.

At the Fitness- The Fitness Center!
A hotter spot than the Senior Center.
At the Fitness – The Fitness Center!
Faces gone ashen were often the fashion
At the center. . . they fell in love.

His name was Harold, he wore a toupee
He benched a ten-pound weight, and Stella took the bait
And when he finished, he called her over.
Stella unzipped her shirt too low, Harold’s heart failed from the blow.
And so the medics came, Stella’s dreams in flames
First a defib, and an EKG,
Harold’s back in the game!

At the fitness- The Fitness Center!
A hotter spot than the Senior Center.
At the fitness – The Fitness Center!
EMTs and passion became the fashion
At the Center. . . they fell in love.


  1. I go to a fitness center also. So I can relate to some of the things you are saying. Although I have not seen "Stella" yet. But I do see a lot of tattoos on both sexes.

    1. I'm usually there before 8 am (let's hear it for retirement!) so I'm sure I miss some of the other possibilities, but I still see quite a range.

      I'm fond of one guy who is about 5'3", 60ish, and always wears shorts, t-shirt, and the final touch of black business socks. We also used to have a young guy who always wore sprayed-on leggings striped like a barber bowl. Absolutely hypnotic.

  2. Well written Marty!! I will be humming Copacabana and snickering for hours! By the way, if you are looking for a way to fill your free time ..... lyric writing maybe!!


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