It’s Sunday evening, 7:48 and I am looking at the clock already calculating how much time I have left to work on my to-do list before my midnight bedtime. In truth even that is too late as my alarm is set for six A.M. I have become a morning workout aficionado.
Up until a few months ago, I always saved my dedicated exercise time for the end of the day. I’d head to the gym after work, arrive at around seven-thirty, get in a good 90 minutes, shower, change and head home. And by the time I’d walk in the door, I’d be too tired for anything beyond an hour of tv before bed. Then my friend, or really my gay work-husband (like many New York City woman have) suggested I try the AM workout. Get it done early and night time is for play. Sounded good to me, so I decided to give it a whirl.
The first few days were grueling, as, even having to get up so early, I was still going to bed at midnight or later. I gave it my all– I really did. But by the end of the week I had just about had it, and though my intention going in, was to adopt this as a new lifestyle, I decided I was done with the torture and would resume my PM workout schedule pronto. But then… I saw him: The most beautiful of the male species… I have ever… laid eyes on. I could only think he must not have been there since I started mornings, because I can assure you, had he been huddled in a corner on the absolute opposite side of the floor, wearing a brown bag, I would have noticed him. A man like this is hard not to notice. There’s good looking, and there’s beautiful. This guy? Beautiful. I’m talking JFK Jr.-beautiful: Tall, lean but muscular; with dark, thick waves of hair and dark, mysterious eyes and a handsomely chiseled jaw. And did I mention his arms? Popeye arms, I call them– also hard to miss under the worn-out t-shirts he wears with the sleeves cut off. And his long legs, with shapely calves. He is perfection from head to toe– the kind of man they mold statues after. So I see him, and after minutes walking in slow-motion on the treadmill, and realizing even my cool-down has ended and the belt has actually stopped and I’ve been staring too long, I snap out of it. But alas, in the course of those five minutes, I decide I WILL NOT give up mornings at the gym. Be no means, I will not!
So there you have it. I’ve become an AM regular. And why is it that I suddenly have the discipline to awake from glorious slumber at literally the crack of dawn? Is it this man alone that is motivating me? Well (cough, cough) yes, it is. Will I ever actually speak to him? Do anything more than look? Probably not and probably not. Is there even any guarantee he will be there when I am, or were these first few sightings merely flukes? In the end, does it really matter? I think not. Searching for Mr. Right in New York City is no easy feat, we all know that. Can meeting someone at the gym be any more difficult than meeting someone in a bar? Doubt it. So I say, why not just have fun with it and worry not where it goes. I’ll get my workout out of the way early and treat myself to some eye candy while I’m at it. Fine. I’ll take that.