The Third Treadmill By 1:10

the gym's open 24 hours, which is the whole reason i started going at night, or that's the reason i give people who ask why i'm lifting weights at one in the morning instead of sleeping like a normal adult.

he's usually on the third treadmill from the door, the one under the vent that doesn't work, somewhere between ten past and twenty of. i know this because i've been coming in at 12:55 lately, which i've told myself is so i can stretch properly before i start. not so i can be on the floor before he clocks in on his machine.

we've never spoken. i don't know his name. i know he runs a nine minute mile and drinks from a black bottle with a dent in the side. he nods at the guy behind the desk on his way out. never once at me.

tonight i caught myself checking the clock at 12:40, doing the math on how long i had before i needed to leave my apartment to make it, stretching and all, by 12:55. for one clean second i saw exactly what i was doing. building a whole night around a stranger's cardio schedule.

then the second passed and i told myself it's just a good time to work out. quiet gym, no wait for the machines. i grabbed my bag anyway. i'll probably still make it by 12:55.