5:33 AM. Kristy pushed open the heavy double doors to the gym, knowing they’d been unlocked only minutes before. Who was on duty this morning? Maria? Lawrence? The lobby was deserted, and so was the front desk. Kristy sighed, throwing herself up against the counter and tossing her backpack on top of it.

“Maria?” she tried. No answer. “Lawrence?” Nothing. “Anybody there?” She considered vaulting over the counter top, but she’d done that once before and got caught by the security cameras. She remembered Holly’s punishment: an hour-long session with Robbie, everyone’s least favorite client. Robbie had spent the hour leering down her top and making Michael Scott-style “that’s what she said” jokes. She didn’t want to go through that again.

At 5:39 by Kristy’s Speedo watch, Maria finally came around the corner. She startled when she saw Kristy. Then she laughed and nodded, as if she should have been expecting Kristy all along.

“You got an early client again?” she asked, buzzing her in. Kristy snagged her backpack and smacked her palms against the stile as she pushed through.

“Nope,” Kristy said, already heading down to the locker room. “Not until 8:15. But I gotta warm up first.”

“Warm up? For two and a half hours?” Maria called after her, but Kristy didn’t answer.

By 5:42, Kristy had shed her backpack and jacket in the employee locker room and was tying on her bandana before heading up to the cardio room. She didn’t need to check the mirror to make sure the bandana was straight; she’d tied it the same way so many times before, at the nape of her neck behind her smooth dark-blond ponytail. It was her trademark. Today, it was pink, to go with her hot pink Nike racerback bra top, black Lycra leggings, and black Pumas. She grabbed her giant bottle of Smartwater and left the locker room without looking in the mirror.

At 5:48, her headphones were plugged in to the TV attached to her treadmill, and she was walking fast, at an incline, warming up to her first sprint. She’d sprint for five minutes, then take it down to recovery speed for four, then back up for another five. Usually she gave equal time to her intervals, but she had to make up for the lost minutes she’d spent waiting for Maria to show her lazy ass. The thought made her angry. What if she’d been, not an employee, but a member? Members did come in that early. Fellow early birds were already firing up the cardio machines around her. She should report Maria to Holly. In the meantime, she needed to up her sprints to make up for the 6 minutes she was forced to stand and wait.

At 6:18, Kristy dismounted, patting her face with a thin white gym towel, and headed over to the weight room. She’d be doing strength training later, she knew, but she couldn’t guarantee a full workout; she’d just be showing a few reps to each client, possibly doing a complete set now and then for moral support. She went over to the filing table and pulled her training card, then slid on her fingerless gloves for extra grip and headed over to her starting point, the chin-up bar.

At 6:57, Kristy finished up the last stop on her circuit, the captain’s chair crunches. She jumped down and raced back upstairs to the group exercise room, where Cindy, her fellow trainer, was just opening the doors for 7:00 AM kickboxing.

“Saved you a spot!” Cindy told her, gesturing to a free patch in the front, where a full Smartwater bottle was sitting on the floor exactly where Kristy liked to be.

“Thanks!” Kristy called, heading into the room. “You’ll be at step class later? I’ll get water for you!”

Kickboxing was one of Kristy’s favorites, and Cindy was the best teacher the club had. She was serious, but inspiring, telling her students to picture people and situations that made them angry while they kicked and punched. “Take out all your aggressions here, people!” she’d call out. “Don’t go into the office angry! Seven A.M. kickboxing is better than therapy. You’ll all be going to work with a smile on your face and peace in your heart!” Cindy must have had her energy drink that morning, Kristy thought, because the class was extra intense. Cindy kept the tempo up and added extra sets of roundhouses and uppercuts. By the end of class, Kristy was sore and coated in sweat, but grinning. She had the sharp-edged focus that only came after several hours of intense exercise on an empty stomach. Waving to Cindy and mouthing “See you later!” she darted past her fellow kickboxers, saying quick hellos to the ones she knew, and headed for the locker room.

At 8:15, she was behind the training desk in the corner of the weight room, showered and suited up in a clean outfit. Kristy’s first client of the day was one of her favorites, Cheryl Hollenback. Cheryl was seventy-eight, but worked out like she was forty. She’d been one of Kristy’s first clients when Kristy had moved to the area last year, and she’d kept her standing Monday, Tuesday, Friday appointments faithfully. While Kristy waited, she foraged for a variety of resistance bands. They’d done some work with free weights and the Pilates reformer on Friday; today would be resistance stretching, a little yoga, and work with the balance ball. Cheryl was determined to stay strong and flexible. She was always telling Kristy that she didn’t want her son to put her in a nursing home.

“I have too many friends who’ve fallen and broken a hip, or can’t control their bladders anymore,” she’d say. “I don’t want to have to leave my home before I’m ready. As long as I can get along by myself and take care of the house, Jimmy’ll let me be.” Cheryl’s husband had died a decade earlier of testicular cancer.

Cheryl walked in a few minutes late, smiling and returning hellos to several people on her way to the training desk. “Sorry, dear,” she said to Kristy as she walked up. “I ran into Remy Martinson in the parking lot, and she had to tell me all about her granddaughter’s dance recital.” She reached out and gave Kristy her customary greeting, a tight hug. Kristy smiled over the top of Cheryl’s white-gray hair.  The thrice-weekly hugs always made Kristy think of grandmother, who’d died years before. Cheryl was nothing like her grandmother physically- she was short and bird-like while Nana was full-bosomed and broad shouldered- but she used the same soap, Dove Pink, and the scent always made Kristy’s eyes sting a little.

Cheryl pulled back and gave Kristy a critical once-over. “You’re looking too thin, dear,” she scolded.

“You’re one to talk!” Kristy laughed off the comment, though it made her feel both oddly ashamed and exultant.

“But I’m an old woman,” Cheryl said. “We’re supposed to eat less, need less. And I don’t spend all day in the gym like you do. My three hours a week with you is plenty. You look like you’re nothing but skin over muscle. Do you ever eat?”

“I had pizza last night for dinner,” Kristy protested, “and ice cream for dessert.”

Cheryl smiled. “Good, dear,” she said. “Just watch yourself, okay? Men don’t like women without any flesh to squeeze. And besides, I’m worried about you.”

Kristy waved her hand, dismissing the conversation. “Time to work, ‘old woman,’” she teased, pushing Cheryl toward a recumbent bike. “Go warm up and I’ll get your first set ready.”

Tune in tomorrow for Part 2!