Quiet Influence

Last week at the gym, I saw a guy jumping rope in the small dance studio. I used to jump rope a lot in the garage—back when we actually HAD a garage. It was my preferred form of cardio. Unfortunately, condo living has made it a little awkward to find space just to jump rope. The guy probably caught me staring a bit while I was slightly reminiscing about my jumping glory days, so I turned away quickly. I didn’t realize the ceiling of the dance studio was tall enough for a jump rope. The sight of my fellow resident jumping rope encouraged me to buy my own. And I did so a few days later. ​ This morning, I headed to the gym bringing along my new-old toy. I finally jumped rope for the first time in years. Muscle memory kicked in fast. I felt myself pretending like I was a boxer, a persona I used to try to embody in my old garage. It warmed me up to attack my workout for the day. I left my jump rope beside the gym’s cooler while I went about my routine. Some time later, as I was grabbing my…