I leapt over a leg press machine so I could quickly move to another part of the weight room floor.
“How old are you, man?”
A random guy at the gym, one who I’ve talked to only once before, surprised me with his question.
After laughing for a bit to regain my composure, I answered: “I’m 26.” Twenty-six, I thought. That sounds… old. I’m over halfway through my twenties. That was quick.
With a mixture of admiration and puzzlement, he continued: “Well the way you move, you look like a fuckin’ teenager.”
I took it as a compliment. And really, that’s the thing I love most about exercise — enjoying the miraculous machine of the human body. Look what these limbs, with focused effort and practice, look what they can do! Look how we can jump and move ourselves, how we can push ourselves to go faster, how we can ask our mechanics to carry out a task and how they oblige.
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