details, details, details

Overwhelmed with the wretched details of life, I start to miss out on the morning workout. I can't get up any earlier. I can't stay up any later. So I just make time and get into the gym and find spin bike number 8 and throw my favorite play list up on the speakers. Two trainees and their personal trainer arrive and it seems like my party is being crashed, but it's all good, and the trainer likes my tunes and the students are pleased to have someone to look at and off we go. When the first drop of sweat hits the floor, the troubles start to ease from my mind. The students are going up and down, sprinting, sitting, standing. Too much bother for me. I just climb. You don't gain any elevation in the basement of the gym but the mind climbs up and out of the minutiae, above the bills and the assignments until it's like being at the top of an epic climb with the sun shining down upon me. In sweat there is salvation from the mundane. I have no understanding of people who don't sweat, who don't have to sweat, who don't need to suffer just a bit, who don't take a nap in the cave of pain every now and again.