LiamLicks: 7/4/10

Thursday, July 8, 2010

Heat Wave July

Hot town, summer in the city
Back of my neck getting dirty and gritty
Been down, isn't it a pity
Doesn't seem to be a shadow in the city
All around people looking half dead
Walking on the sidewalk, hotter than a match head

from song Summer in the City-Lovin' Spoonful version

We have had a heat wave. We have broken some records. I always say if we are going to be extreme in our temperatures, let's go for the record. Central Park- 103 on Tuesday, July 6 and Central Park 100- Wednesday July 7. I go by CP and newbie Kevin Grogan.
Heat waves change routines because electricity fails and causes disruptions in our travel, our leisure, our comfort our cooking. our sleeping and on and on.
On Wednesday, I headed out for a day of retirement multitasking. My first stop to be Twin Parks Health Club, Floral Park. On the way, I encountered a roadblock of police at Lakeville Road and Jericho Turnpike.
I realized lights were out and the police were directing traffic. I had time.
No problem. I had an hour and a half allotted for the gym. Later was to attend a book discussion at the Hillside Library at 1 pm.

When I pulled in to the health club parking lot, I was approached by a concerned man who informed me that the gym had a brownout. No AC, and all the machines that needed electricity were dead. I thought and said, "Well, I use the row machine" and he added, "You can use the weights also." I said, "I'll give it a try." He expressed surprise that people were inside at all as he described the inside as stifling. I climbed the stairs and the temperature increased with each step. When I arrived at the entrance on the upper level the desk person informed me of what the outside man had already said. I told him I would give my workout a shot. I saw a few of my gym buddies and they were very flushed, had sweat clinging to their eyelashes (good use of eyelashes) and grim expressions. The health club might occupy the space of an old warehouse as all the windows are along the ceiling perimeter and must be opened with a long stick like tool. Little air and light were coming down to the exercise floor, must be nice way up there. I headed to the rowing machine. An eerie lack of familiar sounds on the exercise floor- No TVs, no music, no whirring of fans or treadmills;

new sounds- weights being dropped, grunts, sighs and the cranking of non electrical machines, That would have been okay. But then I heard it. A lone male exerciser 10 feet away on the StairMaster was singing along with his Ipod. Really loudly. No one does that on a non-brownout day, but I suppose he wanted some noise and that is exactly what he was creating -a terrible cacophony of sounds that did not meld into any recognizable song. Why, did he have to be near me? Why would he keep at it? Why does he not care?
After a 20 minute row segment I was done. I was drenched and offended by the unwelcome singing, and happy to wend my way to the weights. But no, say it ain't so! Singing man is done with the StairMaster and the caterwauling continues as he joins me in the weight lifting area. His noises accompanied now by the cranking of each weight machine. This is cruel. I have heard of hot yoga and sweating out the poisons but I know they have soothing music. I am having a sort of hot yoga with inhuman Ipod noises. I did the weights in 20 minutes with a group that never made eye contact, including Ipodman. Contrary to the usual camaraderie that evolves from a shared calamity, this group of exercisers were like crazed madmen lifting, banging , groaning at each machine. After I had used every non-electrical item in the gym, I noticed I needed to get ready to make my next appointment, my book club discussion.
I needed to change my clothes to my book club discussion outfit. But where? The ladies' dressing room was darker than a cave at night. I have to get out of these sweat-soaked gym clothes. I first consider the kiddie playroom, but fear they might lock me in. Another choice was leaving the gym and changing at the Hillside Library bathroom. No, at the library I have a non-sweaty persona and want to keep it that way.
I eye this machine called the Stimulite. This machine had been purchased and setup with much fanfare several months ago. It was so sacred that it had its own cubicle, set off from all the other machines

Ah, this could provide a makeshift dressing room. I already had stashed my gym bag, handbag and water in the Stimulite cubie. I felt sorry for the Stimulite machine, a once shining star relegated to a dressing room in a brownout.
The instructions promised that the lights stimulate your body to burn extra calories so that you could get the same exercise benefits in 10 minutes from its lights that you could in 20 minutes from any other machines. The lights would lazer into you and speed up your metabolism. At first there was a sign up list. Then a 2 dollar charge, then dropped to 1 dollar, no takers.
Now, no sign up sheet, no users. Well, I would use it today. My new dressing room. And so it served me well. I changed in privacy and had my shirt on straight and my pants facing the right way which never would have happened in the pitch black dressing room.
As I emerged the desk man waved and said, "We are closing, everyone must leave." On the way out, I mentioned I changed in the Stimulite cubicle. I was praised for my resourcefulness as well as for not passing out in the heat of the day. Oh, and I was not charged for using the Stimulite cube.

Liam wants to show how he keeps in shape. He did not come to the gym. He does a series of stretching exercises