Neil didn’t have to train so hard physically, but he often came to the gym to keep me company. He was a great wit; he cracked me up. As I lay on the floor lifting iron, he’d hop on the exercise bike and switch it to the lowest torque as not to exert himself.
‘You’re doing well, Dave. You’re doing really well,’ he’d say, pedaling slowly. ‘But I have a finite number of heartbeats. I don’t want to waste any in the gym.’
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