There's a middle-aged woman that I always see at the Printing House Gym. She spends somewhere between 4 and 5 hours on the Stairmaster every day. Her shirt is way too small for her body and sometimes her entire chest becomes unrestrained. She sings to herself loudly and does Fosse-like jazz hands. It's frightening! But, as the Times notes, gyms are now just nut huts for the fitness-conscious rich.