The Free Gym

I don't understand why people in New York work out at gyms.

During the cruise I make with the dogs, we go past one of these, people sweating in their very sleek, very expensive work out clothes, to spend their calories...those stair machines and the funny stair machines and the walking machines I once used. The look at me people, all of them.

I tried a gym once.

It wasn't pretty.

But, here... here, all you have to do is put on your shoes...or boots or red flats...and cruise around this place. I stand at the top of the street I'm on right now, and I see nothing but people for blocks. All of those people are stories. Faces and voices and things to look at and smells in the stalls and colours. Take a long walk, get off the train a few stops early and see what's above ground.

Take a dog or two with you rather than pay someone to do it for you. In a week, my biceps have gotten stronger, my legs are getting ace, and my ass is moving up from the back of my knees. I eat ice cream every night, and am still losing weight.

And, it's free.

Oh, yeah...the down side? When you are on that morning walk, and around the corner from the flat, there is a fire....and the people responding are the crew from the firehouse you entertained with your dive into the trash bags the day before.

And they remember you.

One shouted, "We gave you an 8.5!"

*sigh*