I found myself running on a treadmill in a Fitness Center today. Capital F, Capital C, Fitness Center. It looked like a Fitness Center. Rows of treadmills. Rows of stationary bikes. Rows of elliptical machines. It sounded like a Fitness Center. The whirr of the bikes. The clang of the weight machines. The bzzz of the treadmill. It smelled like a Fitness Center. Feet. Sweat. Disinfectant wipes.
It was a nice Fitness Center. Every piece of equipment had a television. Every television had cable. Magazines were available, as were plenty of towels to wipe off glistening brows.
I have had four separate conversations over the last week and a half, with four separate people, about Fitness Centers and running on treadmills. I believe the words hate and never fell from my lips.
When Heath has a swim lesson, I have forty-five child-free minutes to kill, and a Fitness Center is in the room beside the pool, hate and never do not apply.
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