Pools of Sweat (literally!)

I don't really have the attention span for the gym. I can only endure 30 minutes on the elliptical with my iPod in my ears and something interesting on one of the TVs (I read the closed captioning). I usually end up watching something horrible and trashy like "Flavor of Love with Flavor Flav" or "I Love the 80s" or "America's Next Top Model" or "Fox News."

Today, the only elliptical free was way at the back (on a Friday!) so that's where I was stuck. The screens with the truly terrible shows on them (I know I saw Right Said Fred on one screen) were too far away to read the captioning on and the vaguely interesting news programs all had the captioning turned off. I was forced to amuse myself by looking at my fellow exercisers.

I belong to a family sort of gym. The kind of place that has all sorts of activities and classes for the kids and half of the trainers are busy with scrawny teenage boys hoping to make Varsity next fall. This is not a crowd of "the beautiful people." This gym is populated by average people with average lives.

One of my not-so-fabulous-looking fellow exercisers was a man in his late forties or early fifties riding a stationary bike. His T-shirt was soaked through. His face was bright red. His hair stuck to his head at awkward, damp angles.

As I was walking away, headed for the weight machines, I noticed a puddle about half an inch deep on the floor surrounding this guy's bike. It took me a minute to realize that this was a pool of this guy's sweat.

Do you think he mopped up after himself?