Camp Gym; Monday Morning.

[not_a_mused]

Although Cal's body was heavy with the weight of regrets, although it took him nothing short of an hour to do so, he got up. He got up, rubbed a hand through his tobacco-smoke hair, shook out his limbs, and moved, although lethargically. He figured he had two choices: lay there in the cabin and let the events of his weekend fester in his mind to weigh him down even more, or get up, get moving, and work it off. And so he was back in the camp gym, where it really felt that everything had started, stretching slowly and with the occasional cough, as if some of his cigarettes still drifted in his chest. Then he started up the treadmill and Cal just ran and ran and ran, hoping eventually he'd just sweat it all out.

[[ open for all your gymly needs, though pings from me might be a bit flaky ]]