The Lady in the Fitness Center

I've seen her twice now. We happen to be in the fitness center at the same time. I'm there mid-morning because that's when my work schedule and generously cooperative co-workers allow me to be. I'm not sure why she's there at that time, but here's the story I've made up for her. 

She's older than I am ... by about 10 years, I think. Her hair is tinted a sort of purple shade of red, clearly not her natural color, but fierce in it's own way. It's pulled back in a sloppy pony tail and soaking wet. 

She's sweating. 

A lot. 

The first morning she was pumping away on an elliptical. Today, she was striding purposefully on a treadmill. 

She's sturdy looking, in a Midwestern way, if that makes sense. I'm guessing she knows what hard work is ... like she's managed a herd of teenage kids, a 50-hour work week and gotten dinner on the table every night. She pitches in when there's a bake sale for the Freshman trip to DC. She yells at the neighbor kids as if they're her own. She makes sure everyone has clean underwear. She might even help split wood. She shows up on your doorstep with a casserole when you're sick.

And recently she's lost a bunch of weight. 

She's still got a bit extra around her middle. Her upper arms are a bit loose. Her face is changing, not quite to the place where it'll end up, yet much different from where it was. And the exercise tights she's got on are a few sizes smaller than when she started this journey. 

How can I tell? 

The look on her face is pure determination. 

She's not going through the paces on that elliptical. She's pushing herself to go faster, even though her breath is short and she's sweating like a banshee. When she's done on the treadmill, she doesn't pause at the water cooler to collect herself. No ... she heads directly to the weight equipment and starts trying each machine. 

My guess is that she's doing this on her own. She doesn't have a "routine" exactly. But she tries out each station to see what she CAN do. When she's puzzled by something like the medicine balls, she doesn't look sheepish and move on. She looks herself square in the eyes and figures out a move that seems to make sense. Then she does it for a reasonable number of reps. 

I like her. I like her a lot. I want to bounce over toward her, full of sunshine and light and say, "GOOD JOB!!! You are doing so great! You are fantastic and I notice. I can see how amazing you are. Keep going!"

But I don't. 

I do smile when she glances my way. And I hope she gets all of the spirit behind it. 

We are on the same team.