I thought I was deleting my old drafts (I go through a long fiddly draft/revision process before I actually publish). Instead, I managed to delete all of my posts.

I are smrt.

So I begin the sharing anew:

At the gym, my favorite way to pass the time as I do my cardio workout is listening to music as I watch other people go through their workouts. Usually I'm just struck by how annoyed or angry people look as they're working through their routine, but every now and then something special happens that makes going to the gym all the more worthwhile.

I choose my workout music based on whether it has a fast, strong beat, rather than whether or not I like the songs. Today, I just happen to be listening to some poppy dance tune from Kylie Minogue. As I enter the 30th minute or so of my workout, my brain is steaming in the orange glow of a runner's high, and the nagging pain in my limbs wanders off for a smoke in the back of my head. My eyes slide from the television screen in front of my machine across the rest of the room, and the strangest thing starts to happen.

If you've ever seen that Volkswagen commercial -- the one where the VW is driving down the street, with thumping background music playing, and everything that happens on the sidewalk starts to sync up with the music -- imagine the first time you saw that, and the moment you realized your eyes matched up with your ears.

All the usual suspects are there. A tall, muscular yuppie gasps and strains in the elliptical machine next to mine, pretending that he isn't watching the RPM counter on the machine of the girl on his other side. A pair of Asian guys flex in front of the mirrors for the benefit of a slender girl doing curls at the next bench. Another pair of guys studiously avoid the sight of each others' eyes and crotches as one spots another on the bench press. A bodybuilder swings his arms like an arthritic windmill, trying to maintain flexible shoulders despite the bulging muscles that keep his arms from hanging any closer than a full foot from the side of his chest.

No matter where I look, the motions sync up perfectly with the thudding beat of the music in my headphones. After I get over the initial shock, a smile stretches across my face, and I start to laugh softly between gulps of air. Some might say "giggle," but I'd like to stress that I've never giggled in my life. The yuppie shoots me a few sidelong glances between gasps, and I grin, imagining that he's worried I'm about to turn around and destroy him with a crazed kung fu kick.

I play around with the moment, and suddenly the grey-haired retiree doing lunges in front of the mirror is a backup dancer in an MTV video, and the college girl nodding her head to a beat from her iPod is wearing black wraparound shades and an oversized silver jump suit. All too soon, the song is over, the all-unifying Beat has gone, and the people in the room are suddenly just moving through their own mundane spaces. Moments ago, they were all dancers on a stage; now they're just lifting lumps of iron, teasing tendons to their full length, or working out their love muscles.

What? I meant their hearts. Sheesh, grow up already.