The streets radiate a sheen from the overhead street lamps on this still cold morning.  Only a few cars lurk around in the dark, and I can’t help but wonder where they’re going.  Heading to work, or home from work?  Homeless, or wanderers?  Or are they lucky like me, destined for a morning workout session before the motivation evaporates with the frost?

I like to open up the gym, sometimes waiting on the curb for a morning manager to unlock the front door and fire up the lights.  Jill is the chipper one, usually greeting me with a friendly hello and a quick query on how I’m feeling.  Dan is the opposite, and I’m lucky if he even acknowledges my presence, too busy being brainwashed by the earbuds jammed in his skull.  But I don’t mind either way.  The morning is my time, and no one can take it from me.

The smell of worn metal weight trees and rubberized matting makes me feel nostalgic.  There was a time in my life when I was an athlete, good enough to play in college, too scared to go through with it.  Back then, I resented the weight room.  I’d rather be on the field, or on the mat, or hanging with the boys, or my girl.  What I wouldn’t give to have the wisdom I do now and try those years all over again.  But it’s chest and tri day.

There are a few morning regulars, and we pass nodding glances at each other.  Most of us listen to music while we lift.  I do it more to drown out the grunting of the guy who never figured out he was scaring away any chance of connecting with someone at the gym, even though he desperately wants to.  I also listen so people won’t try to make small talk.  Except for Alex.  He’s a Monday, Wednesday, Friday kind of guy, so I typically catch him a few times a week.  He’s big and strong, but unassuming, and always has a smile on his face.  You know the kind of guy.  Privileged.  Seems like he’s never had a bad day.  I don’t want to like him, but he really looks at me when he asks how my yesterdays have been.  Then he listens, he hears me out, and he even has advice worth taking note of.  More than half the time, I don’t even think to ask about his life because he’s got me so excited about my own.  Sometimes, I think to myself how much better life might be if we all had a few Alex’s on our team.  What if we even acted like Alex?  My friends wouldn’t even know what to do if I came at them like that!  I’d love to see the look on my boy Phil’s face if I asked him about his feelings.  But it’s Thursday, and the cable pull-down machine is open.

I notice Dan, head down at the front desk, neck at an irregular angle, screen light twinkling in his eyes.  I want to share some wisdom with him, drag him over here to the pull-down machine with me.  I realize it would only hurt us both.