Rush Hour

Rush Hour

Though they stumble, they will never fall,for the LORD holds them by the hand.

Psalm 37:24

Rush hour at the gym is frenzied—it’s a packed house, every machine is in motion, and TVs are blaring over the heads of sweaty bodies in overdrive.

As a new member I tried to look nonchalant while scanning the hordes for an empty treadmill. Only one. Great. Front row center. Everyone behind me could watch my, uh, technique.

Hurriedly I stepped onto the black rubber tread. Even faster I shot off the back end, narrowly missing the handlebars of the machine behind me. Fortunately I did a stomach plant. (I always wear protective padding in that area.) But the mishap occurred so fast that once I put my kneecaps back in place, I felt almost no pain.

The previous user had left the treadmill running on high speed.

Pleeeease, no one come help me! I’m fine. Embarrassed, but fine.

With what dignity I could manage, I reached to turn the switch to the off position. No need to go all the way around . . . just step up here. I think I became airborne that time. The impact jarred my teeth, forced my ribs into a rude collision with my backbone, and untied one shoe.

The people around me were saints. Once they saw I was okay, they just continued working out. And although surely by that time they were questioning my mental capacity even more than my physical ability, no one giggled or even smirked—well, not that I saw, anyway. I was busy retying my shoe and thinking about what to do next.

Limp away? Not on your life! I stepped up. Again. Right after I turned the thing off.

—Kathleen Brown

Father, why do we rush and worry through our lives? Trying to get it all done, to make sure we look good doing it, to impress others who are trying just as hard to impress us? Remind me, please, that when I hold your hand, all dignity and strength are mine. Amen.