B is for Ball

She sat on the bottom shelf of the worn metal rack while the medicine balls above and beside her were taken by the class, their hands eagerly searching for and snatching their desired workout companions, their brightly colored clothing nearly glowing against the gym's dull and utilitarian decor.

A whistle blast rang through the air. Her fellow weighted balls flew up, touched lightly off of the wall, and plunged into waiting arms. A moment of stillness as muscles were tensed, then an explosion of movement and they were launched upward again.

She'd seen this so many times. This was the second of three fitness classes just today and, as it always was, as the heaviest, she was left out.

Another whistle blast and the balls were returned to the rack, haphazardly. A 5-pound ball rested next to her. The fivers were an excitable bunch, worthy of little concern, and she paid it no mind as it chattered on to anyone who would listen. Or maybe just to itself. Who knew.

She watched the class move on to tugging themselves up a rope, most flailing a few feet off the ground. Then it was on to pulling their chins up over a horizontal bar, again most failing the task pitifully. Then the class rushed over to the ball rack again, grabbing and carrying away others but not her.

And whistle. A heavy ball was swung up over each head, held in shaking arms, and slammed to the gym's mat, then picked up and slammed down again. Not one bounced, so each landing was accompanied by a loud, leathery slap.

And whistle. The other balls were returned to the rack. A 15-pounder settled next to her this time. He was exhilarated and panting. Unable to contain himself, he blurted, "Oh my gosh, that is so fun! I love it every time!" She studiously ignored him.

Soon the class ended, an event signaled by three whistle blasts, after which followed by a great deal of dramatic flopping to the gym's mats. Sweaty arms and legs seemingly unable to move for even a moment longer. A few minutes later, everyone collected themselves and stood for hugs and handshakes at their collective survival of the past hour.

Same as every day.

Though class was over, one of the more familiar faces wandered over to the rack.

"Ahh, you young fool." she thought. This happened sometimes when someone's hubris overwhelmed their sense.

He reached down and began to pick her up. A faint grunt and quick exhalation followed. He hefted her to his chest, then laboriously to his shoulders. Slowly stretching his arms upward, he suddenly lost his grip and she glanced off his temple before landing on the mat with a distinct thud.

"Yeah, I didn't think so," she thought, disdainfully, quickly squelching the lingering excitement from momentarily being held aloft. He settled her back on to the bottom shelf and slowly walked away, cradling his lower back in both hands.

The class left, off to wherever they went when they weren't here. A distant ka-thunk and the lights began to fade. She heard a door close, and then she drifted off to sleep, uninterested in the overlapping voices reliving the past hour's events fluttering around her.

Same as every day.

She startled awake with the ka-thunk of light's return. Third class of the day.

As the usuals wandered in, her eyes glazing over each useless one in turn, she noticed a new face. Large, strong, powerful, and obviously uncomfortable. Great. Another flipping new guy.

He put a black workout bag down on the bench at the side of the gym and sat beside it to change into a worn pair of sneakers that had probably been white at one point, but now were a camouflage mix of light gray and the native tan color of the shoe's material. He sat away from everyone else as they chirped brightly to each other in their multicolored attire. His posture was perfect, though with the angle of his body, he appeared possessive, wary, and closed off.

One whistle and the class began. Everyone jogged over and stood in a half circle around the instructor as he went through again exactly what the workout of the day would be on a whiteboard that had been at the gym at least as long as she had. The instructor gestured to New Guy and everyone clapped or waved. New Guy's posture stiffened, but he managed a slight nod.

The instructor then demonstrated exactly what each exercise would be, pointing to various parts of the gym as he did so, including to the medicine ball rack more than once.

Another whistle and they were off. A few rounds with the barbells (up and down they went every day, no problem for anyone, she'd noticed long ago) and the class rushed over to the ball rack. New Guy was last, the discomfort of exertion she saw on everyone's face firmly on his. He considered his options and chose the 15-pounder next to her.

She assessed him as he chucked the ball up towards the wall and then caught it heavily. A quick squat and he flung it upward again, this time higher than the last. He kept at it steadily, his pace never slowing.

"Hunh. Kid has some chops." she muttered to herself. Then stopped, surprised that she'd spoken at all.

Whistle. All the balls back to the rack. The class raced off. New Guy was far better at rope climbing and at putting his head above the horizontal bar than she'd expected. He seemed experienced at both, but he did them almost mechanically, at a mindless, frantic tempo.

More whistle blasts. The class raced back to the rack. New Guy picked up a 15-pounder again. Above heads, slammed to the ground, above heads, slammed to the ground. Swing and slam, swing and slam. Again, his pace never flagged.

A whistle blast. Back to the rack. This time, she expected to see more intense discomfort on his face, as was on everyone else's at this point, but New Guy looked relaxed and a bit distant, as if he had just heard a familiar song playing faintly on the radio or remembered a favorite dish long forgotten.

More whistles, more running, more colors flashing by against the drab backdrop, then those final three blasts.

Dramatic flops to the mat. Hugs and handshakes all around. New Guy never offered, but sincerely shook every hand offered to him.

He took his time changing his shoes, a thoughtful look on his face. As he walked back over to the rack once most everyone was gone, it seemed to her that something inside of him had loosened. He reached down to the bottom shelf and started to pick her up. With a slight grunt, he lifted her to his chest, then up onto his shoulders, then finally as far as he could stretch his arms upward. The heady thrill of height hit her for a moment before the rush of acceleration kicked in and she slammed to the ground, safe.

He grunted in appreciation as she tried to catch her breath.

"Oh yeah, beautiful," he said softly. "You and I are going to be good together."