In The Gym

I went to the gym this morning, mid morning. I did my workout in a little over an hour, it was good. 2nd session on my own.

There was a muscle guy in a black sleeveless t-shirt and black shorts that were so tight I have no idea how he got them on. You know, he was well built, and it was worth showing it all off, and all, but I suspect he could have done himself an injury getting those shorts on, if he wasn't careful.

There was a girl there who was grunting with every movement she made the sound of which was so primal I suspect it's what she'd sound like when she was home with her big boof of a boyfriend, Brad, after a bottle, or two, of dry white wine.

There was what I'd call everyone's accountant, with his ever so slightly receding curly hair, his square metal rimmed glasses, pale skin, a cream far too big singlet that matched the hue of his skin, with great guns.

There was an old, bean pole of a lurch type, with a constantly pained look on his face, pale flakey skin and pale red hair, who seemed to be unnaturally hairy all over, who I realised, when he walked past me near the end, that he wasn't old at all, most likely, he was just one of those people who always looked kind of old. Poor sap.

I remembered to wear shorts myself, which was good, so I wasn't sweating in track pants for most of the session.

It was raining when I came out, which was kind of nice really, for the short walk home. It was fresh, and I didn't have enough time to get cold.

Then it was back to work.