Back to the gym

I'm going back to the gym in the sense that I started powerlifting regularly again. But yesterday I also rushed back to the gym because I'd lost my house keys. I found a cool powerlifting gym on the other side of the city, which is fine - a 30 minutes bike ride is a good warm-up and cool-down.

Last night it was already half past ten when I returned to my apartment building from the gym. When I wanted to put my bike in my storage room on the ground floor, I noticed that my house keys were missing from my jeans pocket. I parked my bike outside, walked to my car and checked whether the keys were in my backpack. They weren't.

Now it was time to panic. It was already a day full of failures - what was wrong with me? In the gym, I'd already accidentally touched a guy's ass while going to the toilet. It's a gay-friendly gym, but they're also strict about consent. More seriously, I almost crushed my chest, pressing more weight than I could handle on the bench. To make things more interesting, my sister, who keeps my spare keys, was posting skiing videos in the family chat group since she's on vacation this week. I started wondering whether I could find someone holding her spare keys, or whether I should wake up my neighbor to ask her to sleep at her place.

The gym was closing within half an hour and I couldn't call them, so I drove there, without breaking any speed limits, while the stress helped me to forget I'd only had half of a dinner yet. I arrived in time and was relieved to find a parking spot.

But the staff hadn't found any lost keys, and the changing room was completely empty. I even checked the place where I'd parked my bike. Here's a photo from another date:

Then I talked to the guy who'd entered the changing room when I left. He didn't notice any keys either, but helped me think through what could have happened. Could I have left without the keys? No, I always use them to lock the door properly, and I also need them to get my bicycle from the storage room.

OH WAIT A MINUTE! I might have left them in the lock when I oiled my bike chain at the last moment. Now I knew I had to return home again. Would the keys still be there? And could I get access to the building in order to retrieve them. Luckily, there was still a light burning at one of the families on my floor.

I rang their bell, explained the situation and they let me in. Which was tricky, because I'd opened the door many times via the intercom for one of them, but also got angry because he started to take my help for granted.

Anyway, when I arrived at the storage door, the keys were still in the lock. Another point for faith in humanity! I stored my bike, got my mail, hung up a load of laundry, laid down on the floor on top of an icepack, and then I could finally have the rest of my dinner.

All in all I'm stumbling towards better health, making a new start, or as they say in Spanish: