We're Not Saying Much

Yesterday was easy.  I parked my steady exercise routine when I was on the road.  Not sure why it’s so difficult to maintain a regimen when one stays “somewhere else” but maintaining an exercise routine consistently proves one thing too many.  And so, back at home, yesterday with weeks of tightness to reclaim I headed over to the gym.  On the weekends, the gym I use at the kids school is open to the ‘rents.’  And, to my surprise my younger one was willing to head over with me.  We got a good session in and left when we wanted to, vowing to return the next day. 

Monday morning is however another matter.  On weekday mornings they don’t want the parents crowding up the gym, which is reasonable.  Parents that want to visit need to go early from 6:00AM to 8:00AM.  I knew I’d be up and though I fell back to sleep meditating as sometimes happens, it was straight forward to begin to assemble my gym clothes at 5:45AM.  What was unclear was weather or not my younger one would join as she suggested she would.  She’d told me as much the night before, but I’ve seen this routine and the early morning is usually a different matter.  

Perhaps she has reached a new phase of can-do-it-ivness.  I stirred her up and within five minutes she was down the stairs and basically ready.  It’s cold in January, but it could be worse.  The car takes time to heat up.  Driving over there are no street lamps and I turn on the brights until there is an on coming car.  There are so many small vehicles that could potentially dart out in the dark; the brights make a tremendous difference.  By the time we’re three fourths of the way there the heat begins to finally kick in.  I have this down to a precise location where it is safe to crank the heat up, from dozens of earlier such trips. 

The school parking lot, usually full, is all but vacant.  We trot through the main door into the school hallway, which is usually full of kids running about.  We’re not saying much but that’s just fine.  The gym is out back and for a moment it is cold again, but it’s only twenty yards till we’ve entered the enormous dome complex.  At this hour, there are only two other parents, ladies this morning, who are on the treadmills.  We mount stair masters down the row, a-ways and get into our routine.  Apple Music is so laden it has hidden the “random” button somewhere, where I can’t find it. It frustrates me intensely for a moment or two.  But soon I’m doing my digital flashcards and peering over at how high my daughter has thumbed up the resistance setting. Looking forward I consider us both bouncing in the reflection of the glass. 

Monday, 01/16/17