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Was this the "Zone" all the gym-rats harped on about? If so then Ford was deep in it.
The old analogue clock on the wall read well past midnight. It was technically Saturday. He had been at it for hours though he was only cognizant of it a few minutes at a time. Despite that he felt good, there was a deep pleasant burn in his muscles he'd never experienced before and the awful stress of the previous day was lifted from his shoulders.
The stress of the day... Mac kicking sand in his face... Marina blowing him off at her door...
Shaking his head in agitation Ford forced down the angry bile rising in his throat and flipped to the next page. It was some kind of jumping squat thrust. He focused on the eye-catching images as he bent at his knees and felt his mind begin to empty itself of all those horrible feelings.
Then, as if on its own, his body began to move fluidly through motions.
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