They sold my hometown gym. They also changed the name of the gym to something silly - rhymes with munch. And I stopped going. There were other reasons (like work and finishing my book), but mostly it was because I knew it wouldn't feel the same.

And I was worried that with a new (idiotic) name there might be a change in clientele. Instead of middle aged "I love the treadmill" types like me there would be new folk...with muscles...and no body hair.

But today I went back, and surprise, it was mostly the same. In fact, other than the strange steel wainscoting in the lobby, everything was familiar. I grabbed my mat, tried to do some ab work, then managed not to look like a complete goof while pulling on some weights. I finished up by tromping on the treadmill like a god damn expert.

Now I just need to do this fifteen more times so I can go on a cruise and undo it all.

Expert.