Palestra: Gym of The Stars

Although it is a terribly expensive 70E a month, the gym that I've been eyeing quietly, in preparation for a year-full of resolution madness, is the closest and the nicest. There is a jacuzzi, sauna, cafeteria and hair salon nestled inbetween a gajillion bicycles and treadmills. Patrons jog along, sweating to MTV España. I like.

In my free visit, I see a celebrity walk down the stairs (second floor: locker rooms, third floor: weight room). I know him because he is on my second favorite TV show, the one that I never watch. I immediately want to text Cathy the news, but I finish my workout. I tell my students later that day and they are more interested in the fact that I'm going to Palestra. They have heard of this gym, they say, and there are many famous people there. Their eyes glaze over.

One student, however, looks me square in the eyes, unfazed with my story. He points a finger. "Shouldn't you find a gym that's more your level?"

My level? Should I be attending McDonald's McGym instead?