Post by md on Mar 9, 2008 13:56:33 GMT -5
Catching the fading name of the girl that was looking for friends, Miles walks down the hallway that leads to the training facility set aside for GCW talent. It's a hectic schedule, hopping from city to city, never finding a moment's rest. It's nothing like what he had going in Florida. It was just a short drive to that indy promotion and then back home. A routine he got used to, maybe a little too much. Still, the traveling did do him some good. It made him forget, how alone he was...
Finally finding the room he was looking for, he was glad to see that he had the entire room to himself. He wanted to get his mind off of the stirring within him, while getting ready for whatever death trap Masters had for him at the LockUp house show here in South Carolina. Killing two birds with one stone, he thought. He just had to be what he always thought he was when he was out there under those bright lights. If only that was the case in his personal life. He felt like he was hiding all the time. But he felt a sense of security there.
He tosses his bag onto the nearest workbench, removes his shirt and his jeans. He now stands there in a white muscle shirt and knee-length shorts. Taking a quick look around to see what he had to work with, he decides to walk over to the nearest treadmill for a quick cardio warm-up. Before he forgets though, he reaches into his bag and pulls out a custom print plated Ipod. He sticks the earbuds in its respected ear and flips it on. Some music would do him some good to. Some old fashion inspiration for that album he's put in the back of his mind...
Jumping onto the treadmill, he places the Ipod on a convenient holder for media players and then calibrates the machine to his settings. You know, like weight and all that jazz. After doing so, he starts at a slow pace, while drowning himself in one of his favorite ballads.
Finally finding the room he was looking for, he was glad to see that he had the entire room to himself. He wanted to get his mind off of the stirring within him, while getting ready for whatever death trap Masters had for him at the LockUp house show here in South Carolina. Killing two birds with one stone, he thought. He just had to be what he always thought he was when he was out there under those bright lights. If only that was the case in his personal life. He felt like he was hiding all the time. But he felt a sense of security there.
He tosses his bag onto the nearest workbench, removes his shirt and his jeans. He now stands there in a white muscle shirt and knee-length shorts. Taking a quick look around to see what he had to work with, he decides to walk over to the nearest treadmill for a quick cardio warm-up. Before he forgets though, he reaches into his bag and pulls out a custom print plated Ipod. He sticks the earbuds in its respected ear and flips it on. Some music would do him some good to. Some old fashion inspiration for that album he's put in the back of his mind...
Jumping onto the treadmill, he places the Ipod on a convenient holder for media players and then calibrates the machine to his settings. You know, like weight and all that jazz. After doing so, he starts at a slow pace, while drowning himself in one of his favorite ballads.