SUPER DAVE!

Today I woke at the crack of dawn, shaved my legs, hunted up a pair of gym shorts and made my way to the rec center — all on a single cup of coffee. I was not terribly enthused. My calves still felt like pudding from the prior workout and my whole torso felt stiff and achey. Still. I had an appointment with my personal trainer, and I couldn't let him down. His name is David and he's in his early 20s. He spent three years in Iraq and Afghanistan and is now going to college on some Army scholarship. He broke an assortment of bones, including both ankles, when his parachute didn't open during a training drill. He works three jobs, including two at the rec center and one at a restaurant. It would not be easy to tell him, "I can't come in today because I'm sore." It would just be wrong. Despite my disdain for the War Machine as a whole, I am in awe of the sense of duty and discipline its individuals have — the shit they learn to go through without complaining. David was in a war zone in Afghanistan when he was 18, with people depending on him in real life-and-death matters. I was shopping for dorm furniture. And, 20-odd years later, I'm not doing anything much more significant. Canceling the workout was out of the question. Discipline! Can't look bad in front of David. I would go, and I would simply grin and bear it when he said "10 more lunges."

So I stroll — OK, trudge — into the rec center at 7:50 a.m., mentally primed for physical pain. And David's not there.

"Are you looking for Dave?" some kid at the desk asks. "He left this number."

So I call the number and David explains that he's "stuck in traffic." I think this is a bit odd since we don't live in a high-traffic city, but maybe there was a wreck somewhere. I tell him it's OK, I'll wait. Then he says that he's stuck in traffic in Kansas City. Well, that's different. As he apologizes for breaking our appointment, I wonder why he's in Kansas City at 7:50 a.m. I wonder what traffic he's stuck in, exactly. I wonder why I don't hear any traffic. You know how you can usually tell that someone is calling from their car? That in-the-car sound? I didn't hear that sound. And "stuck in traffic" started to seem like the cliche excuse it normally is — just a notch above "the dog ate it." David, I thought, is probably stuck in his girlfriend's bed (an excellent excuse, in my book, but people are too unimaginative to actually use it). Or stuck somewhere with a hangover. I'm not calling him an all-out liar. I believe he was stuck. We all get stuck. But I doubt it was in traffic.

While my brain worked through his excuse, my body rejoiced. No workout today! No Pain! Woo-hoo! I could go home. But then something kicked in. Wait a minute. I'm already here. The gym equipment is already here. Who needs lazy, undisciplined David? So I stayed. And stayed longer and worked harder, believe it or not, than I would have if he were there. It's funny how people letting you down can sometimes really pick you up.