David stared at the wall opposite his cubicle. He had worked hard since the beginning of the year: a last hoorah, a Hail Mary. He hoped it would lift him out of the funk he had been in since September, hoped it would reignite his drive and stop the motivation from draining out of him. But it hadn’t. He still felt the same as he did through the autumn months, and now that winter had set in, his life felt even chillier and emptier than it had then.
His only solace was his time in the gym. In the frigid months that followed the holidays, when the city was still buzzing with life despite the empty trees and gloomy skies, the gym was his happy place. It was where people went to take control of their health and transform their lives. It was a community he loved being part of, and he tried to go as often as he could after work.
“Hey, Davy,” Brennan shouted across the counter as David entered the gym. “How’s it going?”
“Same as always. You?”
“Good, it’s going good.” He stuck out his hand for a shake as David stopped at the counter. “They’ve booked me full-time here. Officially.”
“That’s good to hear.” David shook his hand like an old friend, despite Brennan having only been there for a few weeks.
“You doing cardio today?”
“Yep. See you around.” David waved and walked off toward the lockers to change before hitting his favorite treadmill for a long jog. He would add thirty minutes of weightlifting at the end, but for now, he would lose himself in an audiobook during a mindless run. It meant forty-five minutes of not thinking about work or life or anything else. It was just his feet pounding the belt, his heart pounding in his chest, and his body sweating off all the stress of life outside the gym.
He hopped off a little while later, grabbed a pair of dumbbells, and stationed himself in front of the mirror.
“Hi, handsome.” Ms. McDaniel was there with her neighbor – both divorcees in their fifties trying to stay committed to their New Year’s resolutions.
“Good evening, Ms. McDaniel.” He curled one dumbbell, then the other.
“Oh, please. Call me Darlene.”
He would not call her Darlene. She readied for deadlifts while her neighbor stood close by, eyeing an older gentleman across the room.
David tried to ignore their snickers and whispers as he moved from curls to flys and extensions. But he kept an eye on them as they habitually used bad form. Last week, he reminded Ms. McDaniel not to flare her elbows when she asked if she was pressing correctly. This time was no exception. She had just bent over and arched her back for a deadlift for the third time, and he couldn’t stay quiet.
“You can hurt yourself like that.” He put down his dumbbells and walked over to them. It should be against the rules for people who don’t know what they’re doing to use equipment without supervision.
“Like what?” Her feigned indignance made him wonder if it was on purpose.
“You want to keep your back straight like this.” He squatted and lifted the empty barbell with ease.
“Oh…ok. Thank you.”
He set it down, and she mimicked his movements with precision, keeping her back straight this time.
“Like that.” He nodded.
“You’re such a doll. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.” She grunted as she lifted the barbell and lowered it back down.
“You should sign up for Brennan’s class at the front. I’m not a trainer and won’t always be here to keep you from getting hurt.” He grinned.
He returned to his exercises but watched them carefully until they left twenty minutes later. Brennan approached and smacked David on the shoulder.
“You’re gonna put me out of a job if you keep helping people like that.”
“Nah, that’s your job.”
“Right, well, too much help, and they’re gonna have you fill out a 1099.” Brennan threw his head back and laughed.
“Sorry.” David shrugged. “I couldn’t just stand there and watch.”
“It’s all good. But it was also Mrs. Shelley yesterday and that new kid in here last week. You sure you’re a…a…what are you? Ah, never mind. Whatever you are, I think you might have missed your calling.” He jogged off toward the two patrons waiting at the front desk.
He knew Brennan was joking, but the thought nagged at him for the rest of his workout and the entire walk home. He imagined himself in Brennan’s position, leading a class or hovering over clients at the gym watchfully, coaching their every move. He tried to imagine how much he would hate having a dynamic schedule and how frustrating it would be for his financial wellness to be tied to customer satisfaction. It wasn’t too different from how he worked now; the schedule would be more unpredictable and the path to success more unstable. Giving up his job meant giving up his apartment, his dreams, and his hopes. It also meant giving up the stress and frustration that came with them.
What if he wanted to do something different? He was still in his twenties, so there was time. What if it worked out? What if he had more clients and classes than he could handle? What if he opened a gym, had his own products, or had his own YouTube channel?
He paused in front of an apartment building three blocks from his. 242 Roberson Street. It was an old, run-down building with cheap rent and outdated technology. It was the closest thing to low-income housing on this side of town. He would have to reconfigure his entire lifestyle to start over. He’d start from the bottom. He had already paid his dues; he was not doing that again. He wasn’t going back.
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