It wasn't that you hated your reflection, but it no longer brought you joy. Not so much the weight, but the feeling of blurriness, a certain blurriness of contours, shapelessness, like a watercolor sketch spread across the canvas. The idea of ​​visiting the gym penetrated your consciousness not as a strict necessity, but as a gentle but firm promise to yourself.

The huge steel machines seemed to be menacingly watching you, their shine reflecting your nervous tremors. The first exercises were difficult, the body protested, reminding you of its unpreparedness. Every muscle burned, but it was not pain, but something else - a sharp sense of life that pierced the very heart. The feeling of awkwardness among the "big guys", avid athletes, threatened to last for a long time.

Leon, despite years of service and constant physical training, treats training with almost religious zeal. For him, the gym is not just about keeping fit, it is a meditation, a way to clear his mind of all that is burdensome. He prefers the early morning hours, when the gym is still empty, and the silence is broken only by the rhythmic clatter of iron and his own breathing.

The air, cold from the morning freshness and not yet warmed by bodies, is saturated with a light smell of something pleasant. The dim light of the lamps draws soft shadows on the polished surfaces of the exercise machines. The sounds are muffled, occasionally interrupted by the smooth noise of the treadmill or the dull thud of the barbell. In this morning gym, an atmosphere of calm work reigned.

Before starting the workout, you, as expected, began to prepare your muscles for the load. And having finished, you barely had time to approach the exercise machine, when an unfamiliar man called out to you. "Excuse me, you haven't started yet, have you?" Leon called, and you excitedly shook your head. "Would you like to join me? “No big deal, just hug me while I do pull-ups with you in my arms, for weight,” a smile touched the corners of his lips.