My tryst with the treadmill in the gym continues.
I look up. And look around. Thoughts race in my mind, as the lungs hoover-up all the oxygen, and the tired legs pine for rest, just like a hero in a bollywood song. All of strange wails and deep pain : exhibited through a sound and dance routine !!
In a distant corner there is a fit gent. With big bulging muscles and minimal clothes, lifting what seems to be half an universe. He goes, twelve, thirteen… I realise that there is one person who is gritting his teeth. And that is me.
Many hard short grunts later, he completes. And looks at his bulges in the mirror. A fulgent, intense stare. I suppose in satisfaction. I will never get there i tell myself. And I look away. The load that i attempt to lift, perhaps would require his index finger. Ok. It may require slightly more. But only slightly.
At that moment i wonder if at all there were some technique to convert all of this into some productive result. For instance, a body builder lifts weights and part of a building gets built. Through some conversion of energy technique ! How more far fetched can i get ?
My eyes search for some other human form.
There he sits in another corner. He sits listening to the gym’s trainer lecture him about the need to do more. Eyes drooping, sweat emerging from all conceivable pores, water bottle in hand he tells the trainer that he is going home for today. I look away. And as i look away, i notice his T-shirt and it is difficult to miss whats written there : impossible is nothing !
In another corner, a boy and girl engage in conversation. The sweat remains absent. The T-shirt carries the iron’s fold. But they are there too. Dabbling with some weight and lurk around the corner. Conversing and laughing. I look away. And as i do, i notice his T-shirt shouts, ‘Just Do It’ ! Well, was that explanation or seeking of right !?! Whichever way, it fitted the picture well. I look away.
Catching minutes from thin air, i seek for more ruses for rest as the hearts palpably beats less faster. I decide that to read some T-shirt messages say. And so here are a few :
a. If Attitude Were Money, I am worth a billion.
b. Would they ever invent muscle dentures ?
d. Mexico ! ( I dont know what that meant )
And as i ponder about ‘why Mexico’ the gym instructor appears. With an arching eye brow and a sardonic grin he asks, ‘tired ?’ I shake my head, and look away.
And just as i do, i read whats on his T-shirt
‘Get On With It’ !
And so, life goes on.