69.

I fall in ten-minute love at least once a week at the gym. There's the elderly gentleman who does elegant, strenuous yoga for half an hour and then checks out his biceps in the mirror exactly like a floppy-haired kid. Last week it was a Korean woman in jeans and a bedazzled reindeer sweatshirt and full makeup. She ran on the treadmill for an hour and didn't break a sweat.

Today my elliptical neighbor was a pale girl with very long black hair. She started out like all the rest of us, working into her running pace and staring out the window. About 20 minutes into my workout, I caught a swift movement out of the corner of my eye and turned to see her flailing like a mad thing. She was still running, but she was also swinging her arms and bending at the waist and flinging her hair around. Girl was totally at her very own headbanger's ball, and it was awesome to behold. Whatever the song was, it pushed her dance buttons. And when it ended, she just went back to regular running, completely oblivious to her suddenly smitten neighbor.