What is this, a discotheque?

Walking into the gym at an ungodly hour I fumbled my way through the locker room and onto the stage known as the cardio room. With every step I became a bit more aware of my surroundings and the people along with them. As I mounted my 20th century horse known as the treadmill I was witness to a new phenomenon. Along the row of elliptical machines were randomized pairings of middle-aged couples recommitting themselves to fitness. As they worked out other middle-aged women and men walked past this row of machines. That was when I noticed it. There was a woman that snuck up between the couple’s machines, leaned on the handlebars and began chatting. They talked for a solid ten minutes, despite the fact that these two people were clearly exercising.
Then I looked over to my right and saw one elderly gentleman standing in front of another’s machine and both were waving their arms and breaking smiles as they were discussing something that clearly could not wait until later, when the man on the treadmill was done bouncing up and down and sweating profusely. These two instances were not the only ones that were happening either. All along the gym there were little pow wows happening.
It occurred to me that this gym, this place of fitness, was no longer the sweat house that it generally is expected to be. In fact, early in the morning, before all of the “youths” show up, this is middle-aged discotheque heaven. People come together, discuss problems, laugh over jokes, even gossip about others while continuously moving their bodies. Heck, there is even music involved in those oversized, outdated headphones that many wear.
Most of these people are probably parents of the 20 something’s that are out in the club until 2am. Turns out they aren’t so different from their children. Just like them, these middle-aged adults are up in the wee hours of the morning, dancing the day away.

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