Clareified

God is closest to those with broken hearts. – Author Unknown

After I got back from Australia, I had been going to the gym every day. Something about being unable to sleep makes your brain say, hey, the gym opens at five, where are those sweatpants?
By the time I had to stop last Wednesday, I was jogging about two and a half miles on the treadmill without passing out, three if I didn’t mind waking to some gross tongue action from the floor guys.
I went back for the first time today. I took it slow, opting for the knee saving elliptical, instead of the treadmill. It was slow going. I forgot my Nano and the book I’m reading, Snow Crash, had reached a particularly dense patch of plotline. All of which to say, I was paying attention to my surroundings much more than usual. The whirring of machines, the incessant grunts of the overexerting themselves, the steady pant of runners letting loose on the treadmills.
And then, the suddenly unnatural thud of a fateful misstep, legs sliding off the conveyor belt, a body crashing to the floor. I looked up from the pages of my book and saw a young blond woman crumpled in a mass on the floor to my left. I suppressed a snicker and went back to reading.
Moments later a young guy, tall, built with a full head of dark brown hair ran over to her.
“Sarah!?”
She still hadn’t moved.
“Sarah, are you okay?”
Nothing.
The movement on the gym floored slowed in unison. Something was wrong.
The trainers walked over to him.
“Is everything okay?”
“I don’t know, my wife’s not moving; she fell off the treadmill…Sarah, honey, Sarah!” His voice was breaking.
I heard someone ask for a doctor, the floor manager went to call an ambulance.
They turned her over and started checking her arms and neck.
The room had gone silent.
Except for him.
Saying her name over and over again.
I don’t know how much time passed, but soon siren lights reflected off the walls in front of me and two emergency workers were at her side holding a stretcher.
25.
Sarah.
No health problems.
Sarah.
NYC marathon two years in a row.
No, she was fine. Fine. Nothing was wrong with her.
Sarah.
No pulse.
CPR.
Her husband was weeping frantically now. His whole body shaking.
Another woman started to cry.
A lifetime passed.
The rest of us just watched as they strapped her to the gurney and carried the body out.
And in that moment, you realize, no, life, is just the bare minimum.

This entry was posted by Dawn Summers on Thursday, February 14th, 2008 at 10:27 am and is filed under Personal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.