A morning at the gym

In this period of my life, in which I’ve just successfully lost fifty pounds, and am feeling, for the first time in years, good in my body, I spend 20-30 minutes a day on an elliptical trainer. As I’ve written, I either do this at Crunch or at Equinox. Each has its advantages but, lately, I’ve been drifting toward Crunch – both because of its convenience (it’s directly on my path, and there’s one five minutes from my house, and another, five minutes from my office) – and because of the greater population of hot women. At Equinox? The hot women are hotter, and the venue is more conducive to good views. But at Crunch? The numbers are just bigger.

So. This morning, as I situated myself on my usual machine (I don’t adjust my workout for views – that would be a “lust-based decision,” and as a holdover from my days in 12-step recovery for “sex addiction,” I try to avoid lust-based decisions), I took in the views. Directly in front of me, on a stationary bike, was a petite blonde with an unbelievable ass. Two rows ahead, partially obscured, two women on treadmills in black leggings with… if not unbelievable asses, well, at least compelling asses.

I started my workout, targeting – as I do – a heart rate of 140-145. I listened to the Lawfare podcast (this one) – a totally fascinating account of life – politics, war, etc. – in Odessa and Ukraine more broadly. And, I worked up a sweat.

About fifteen minutes in, to my right, at the end of my row and perpendicular to it, on a stairmaster, I saw a delicious, round ass. I couldn’t really make out much of the woman whose ass it was: mid-20s, I’d guess, she wore aquamarine leggings. Her blonde hair was in a sort of a top-knot, and she wore a black strappy jog bra. I stole the occasional glance her way as I finished my workout – nothing intrusive, by any means. (I’m truly a respectful ogler, even as I do objectify.)

Something like this on the bottom

I finished up, wiped down my equipment (and my bald pate), and headed to the showers. As I rounded the corner to the stairs leading down to the locker room, I met her eyes. My eyes lingered. Her eyes lingered. And, as I began my descent, she cocked her head just a few degrees, and, shyly, lifted her right hand into a tentative… wave.


I never, in my life, pick up women. It’s just not a thing I do. I would say there are maybe three times in my life that has happened. But here I was, staring a woman in the eyes who was, it seemed, expressing interest in me.

I’d love to say that I walked over to her and struck up a conversation, but that’s just not me. Instead, I nodded appreciatively (I didn’t wave back – I’m a bit diffident, it seems, in situations like this), and continued on my way. Once downstairs? I started composing this post in my mind, and skipped the sauna. Usually, I spend 10-15 minutes meditating and sweating; today, I was in a hurry, hoping to get myself back upstairs in time to catch her before her workout ended.

I say I was in a hurry, but I wasn’t, really. I didn’t move quickly. I showered, stretching in the shower, doing a few one-legged squats (as I do), and dried off, and dressed. And headed back upstairs. I tarried just a moment as I reached the top of the steps and looked back over my shoulder. She was still there, just finishing up, wiping down her equipment.

Again – I wish I could say I’d approached her, but instead, I just solidified my mental image of her for the purposes of writing this post (she didn’t see me, this time), and went on my way.

One thing’s for sure. I’ll be working out at Crunch for a week or two now.


  1. This is not a sort of experience or post that I expected! I wonder if you think you’d still have this sort of shy-ness now, or if you’d instead approach her and strike up the conversation. Do you regret having not?

    1. Meh. I’m like Popeye: I am what I am. I’m just not a guy who approaches women generally. Partly out of fear. Partly respect. Mostly habit. Yeah I think probably things would go the same way today.

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