Gym-time

[twiststheblade]

The problem with working ut 'au natural', as it were, is the lack of resistance. Miho isn't much of a one for weights training, and her stretching routine uses nothing other than her own body, but every now and then it's nice to have something that will fight back. And, lacking an opponent, at least something that will resist. She assumes that the gardeners, and some of the other patrons, might have something to say if she started beating up the trees.

The gym, however, has punch bags. So, she's squared up against a heavy hanging bag, and a dull, fast

-thunk-

-thunk-

-thunk-

sounds out round the room. The bag quivers on its ropes, but it isn't going anywhere. She's fast, though, obscenely fast. And accurate. She has to remind herself that, unlike when she is sparring with the air, the bag cannot stand up to repeated hard blows on the excat same square inch of fabric.

It is possible to burst a punch bag. It's difficult, but it can be done. And she thinks that she might find herself rather unpopular if she covered the floor of the gym in stuffing. So she bounces lightly on the balls of her feet as she strikes, moving around the bag.

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[3rdtimelucky.livejournal.com]

After a time, the door swings open and in walks a familiar shock of blonde hair, a pink tanktop and navy blue yoga pants. There's a towel draped over one bare shoulder, and a bottle of water in one hand. Seems like someone has already gotten bored of gaining weight and being out of shape, just as Miho predicted.

On spotting the little Asian, Goldy pauses in the doorway for a moment, as if deliberating something.