Monastery of Madness

I oversleep a little, dragging my sorry butt out of bed at 4:34am and staggering towards the bathroom like a hungover ninja desperately trying not to wake my wife. Once again I enter that weird time vortex that surrounds the gym and start my workout at 5:20 - sheesh.

I catch the ghostPeople at the tail end of their ephemeral shift. I hop on the elliptical, set it for forty-five minutes at level 13 and go to work. I forgot my earbuds so all is quiet in the gym, AT Everest's steady plod up the Western Cwm the only thing keeping me company.

ghostPeople work in silence, unless Kingsley is in the room then it's a rave party but he wasn't there today. They also prefer cardio over weights. I can follow that, at that ungodly hour getting one's heart started must be a priority.

Again, unless Kingsley is about, then it's weight city but I'm not sure Kingsley hails from ghostville. Heck I'm not sure what the heck Kingsley is, some sort of aberration - something unique.

The last of the ghostPeople darts out of the gym towards the lockers and I'm left with AT Everest and her murderous ascent of the Lhotse Face before nearing the Hillary Step and summiting, only to do it again tomorrow.

She's been on that thing forever it seems like, she weighs less than Kate Moss and has the machine set for some horrendous level that makes my thighs shudder. I glance at her panel, heart rate of 111? For crying out loud her heart must take up half her body mass.

Bubbles shows up and glances at me on the machine wondering if I'm OK. I'm in the cool down from the tempo workout and not looking as hot as I imagined I guess.

The gerbil wheel beckons and I must go - cya tomorrow!