I think everything in life should have a dramatic ending. Like a pointy-pose, or jazz hands, or a withering (fake) death. Or firetrucks!
Yesterday, I went to the gym for the first time since before starting physical therapy for my back. I started with the treadmill, then my PT exercises as adapted for the fancy gym machines, then some time on the elliptical. For my big ending, I decided to do another 15 minutes of walking on the treadmill.
Just as I set up the treadmill, there were blinky lights and sirens around the workout room. It's possible I've been watching too much Let's Make a Deal because my first thought was that someone had won something. Oooh, maybe *I* had won something for having such a great first workout back! I popped off my headphones and waited for someone to come my way with a big check and balloons, only to hear the PA system announce that this was an emergency and everyone needed to calmly proceed to the nearest exit immediately.
(A quick note - aren't "calmly" and "immediately" a bit contradictory? Yeah, I thought so too.)
I stood outside for a bit before the manager told us that firetrucks were on the way and we could not re-enter the building until they had arrived and cleared it.
At that point, I figured firetrucks were a perfect dramatic ending for my first workout back at the gym, so I hopped in my car to head home. And as I pulled to the curb while the firetruck came blasting through from the other direction, I may have even done some jazz hands.
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