I was sitting on a Cybex machine called the Rotary Calf when I noticed a man sitting on another machine, I think it was the one called an Incline Press. He was dressed in regular workaday street clothes: short sleeve shirt with a pen stuck in the pocket, gray slacks, a belt unsuccessfully reining in a middle-aged paunch, and dull black loafers. His body looked soft and unaccustomed to physical work. He just sat there, lank sandy blonde hair falling limply from a central bald spot.
He seemed to be looking through his gold-rimmed glasses at a distant place beyond the floor.
Then in a quick movement, he clasped both hands together and shut his eyes tightly. After about 20 seconds, he opened them and began a slow workout on the machine.
I do believe he was praying.