The Bystander Hits the Gym

Someone once said that the best cure for a hangover is a long run in the morning. So, last Sunday, I decided to hit the gym at the crack of mid-morning, hoping the end to my headache was only a workout away.

As I entered the MAC’s South Cardio Room, I spotted Eliza J. Livingstone ’09, the only other person in the room, sashaying fervently on an elliptical near the window.

Although in the midst of a weight-loss, hill-climb, level-five, Livingstone was still thumbing through “Us Weekly,” a spiral-bound course pack, and unread emails in her Blackberry.

Suddenly, Lucile M. Maxwell ’09 sprang into the cardio room, upsetting Livingstone’s apparent productivity. The newbie hopped onto a machine to Eliza’s left side and tried to strike up conversation.

“So your weekend…how was it?” Maxwell shouted to Livingstone over the loud humming of the ellipticals.

“Weekend schm-eekend,” the multi-tasker responded, “I’ve been busy with a WIB conference since Friday afternoon.” She continued stroking the pearl of her mobile device, gazing at email after email, appointment after appointment.

Apparently remembering that networking with any person in any place is any business leader’s best asset, Livingstone put down the Pearl and turned to Maxwell. “And yours?” She asked politely.

“My boyfriend took me out to dinner at Sandrine’s on Saturday,” she responded, smiling.

“Oh, Sandrine’s. Cute. I think Goldman’s hosting a dinner there Thursday night.” Livingstone twiddled her thumb over her electronic calendar to verify, and nodded her head to indicate that the dinner would indeed be held Thursday night.

“Well, anyways. You have a boyfriend. Good for you,” she added, beginning to pant as the elliptical ascended to level 6. “I just have [pant] absolutely no [pant] time for that sort of thing, you know? [pant] A relationship is like an extracurricular activity and I’ve got plenty [pant] plenty of those.”

“I’m taking five classes and writing a thesis,” Maxwell fired back in one breath. But it was too late—the mechanical whizzing of the now-full workout room was too loud. Livingstone demounted having heard nothing, and headed off to her WIB event.

It occurred to me that no matter how hard Maxwell tried to make herself appear over-committed, she’d always be considered a failure in Livingstone’s mind. Livingstone, vowed to celibacy until after e-recruiting, would always be competitively single.

Later that night, I saw Livingstone a few feet ahead of me on Mass. Ave. From behind, I could see her pace start to change as she turned onto Holyoke Street and passed Sandrine’s.

She walked by the bistro and then stopped for a second, gazing into the big glass windows with couples eating on the other side.