Thank God for the Gym

I seriously worry about the day when I can't work out at the gym anymore, foreseeing a possibly dire financial outcome to this fairy tale. The Gym is like my coffee in the morning, like my bath at night. Creativity would seize to exist because when the body is tired, the mind it tired. Although I used to be a hater, wondering how people could exercise in place like a rat on a wheel, I have since shut it. Because here's the thing: Have you ever heard that the best way to get out of a writing block is to write until the hand moves almost involuntarily, to the point where the mechanics of writing give way to free and pure thought? On the elliptical one time, I came up with the most surreal short film idea about a woman running on a tredmill with her eyes closed, and she was able to almost transport herself into all of her fantasies, they felt so real. Oxygen is so devilish.

The best time of day to work out, I've discovered, is 11 am, when the place is nearly deserted and you have the whole locker room to yourself.