My gym workouts aren’t as frequent as they were just a few months ago. Travel, distraction, and a bit of injury have cut into my routine. So I was pleased this morning to be back at my Abilene gym. I even checked-in there on Facebook to enter one of the constant contests underway. It was early and quiet. The noises I heard were limited to the music from my earbuds and the muted thudding of my trainers on the treadmill.
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And then, I heard it. A sharp cry. And then again. Over time, the brief outbursts morphed into a grunting sound. The noises made as hernias are created.
I looked back for a moment to see a man half my age sitting on one of the nearby weight stack machines. In that instant I could tell he was new to the machine. His form was wrong, the seat was in a bad position, and, from the agony on his face, it appeared that he was attempting too much weight. And so the grunting continued, interrupting my music and my concentration.
I hear a lot of noises at the gym. Half-conversations from people on cell phones who somehow think we can’t listen in. Sounds of machines moving alongside human body parts. Weights dropped by those who believe that such behavior makes them somewhat akin to Conan, the Barbarian. Conversations among friends about sports and relationships and politics. One guy even talks to himself — constantly. He says those things a trainer might say to a client. “You can do it! Two more! DO YOU REALLY WANT THIS??!!” And then, there are those exertion noises like the ones I heard this morning.
I wonder what noises I make. Not just in the gym, but at the office, at home, and in my community. What are the noises that people hear when they think of me?
As we continue to seek a level of equillibrium following a rocky political campaign and as we move now into a period of a new normalcy in regard to our political leadership, I find myself being more and more aware of the noises people are making. We have seen protests. We have heard exasperation from those who don’t like the protests. We have seen individuals choose to fall quiet, to slip on the sneakers of self-preservation and steal away into the shadows.
I have heard good and bad noises during this time. Some are expected and even welcomed. A few are surprising, revealing underlying anxiety that had been previously hidden. And some are like those from the gym this morning — explosive outbursts indicating a lack of forethought and preparation . . . sure signs of pending internal and external damage.
Perhaps in life, as in exercise, attention to the noises we make can serve as a governor to our choices and our well-being — and to our influence as leaders and people of faith.