Confronting the Truth

What is cowardice? And what isn't?

I am at the gym. It’s mid-afternoon on a weekday. The place is empty. It is a cardio day for me, so I hop on an elliptical trainer and look forward to jacking up my heart rate for 42 minutes. (This was a few hours before an appointment with my cardiologist; I always like to work out before I see a doctor, as if it might earn me brownie points or a gold star. It doesn’t.)

A few ellipticals over, the only other person in this part of the gym is high-stepping away. He is probably 40 years my junior, with a chiseled physique, shaved head and closely cropped beard. He is having a conversation with someone, a quite animated conversation. I don’t pay much mind until I start my workout. I figure his conversation would stop in a couple of minutes and the guy would go back to his workout. But it does not stop. The guy isn’t just having a conversation. It is closer to a filibuster. The person on the other end must be a quality listener, because the guy never shuts up. I look over at him a couple of times, hoping he might notice my disapproval. He does not. The conversation goes on. I do not care to know the details about his unreasonable boss or his dinner plans for that night, but even with my own earphones in and one of my favorite podcasts (Jeff Pearlman’s “Two Writers Slinging Yang”) playing, the guy is speaking loudly enough that it is impossible not to hear.