expect to get showered in sweat
Apparently the vaunted Canandaigua YMCA is in Phase-Two of its gigantical exercise-gym expansion project.
Thankfully, they didn’t bring in Ty Pennington and his crowbar-wielding blue-helmeted marching-minions to perform an Extreme Home Mayhem last week when they were closed.
What they did do was transfer all the exercise-equipment out of the old exercise-gym into the newly remodeled weight-room; treadmills, ellipticals, step-machines, and exercise-bicycles; cheek-to-jowl with their ancient Nautilus equipment.
The hallowed Nautilus-circuit, which no one paid much heed to at the time I was there — I only use four machines of 11 — had been broken up and wedged this-way-and-that.
Clearances between machines are minimal — expect to get showered in sweat.
All the Nautilus-machines are there, just scattered around. They’re wedged wherever they could find room.
So first I found out that the exercise-gym was little more than a dusty, hollowed-out shell.
No trespassing, apparently; although a hand-lettered sign said the mat-room was past a canvas tarp draping a doorway (the infamous door that’s not a door)
“Be careful,” it said; “and watch our dust.”
I treaded gingerly through a twisting maze, past an open closet, barricaded by yellow crime-scene tape, for electrical panels (probably for the entire building).
I also passed the tattered remains of the men’s downstairs bathroom — no toilets or urinals; they had been smashed to smithereens, and the dusty shards were in the dumpster out front, victims of Extreme Mayhem. (BALLPEEN HAMMER TIME!)
But I recognized the wall-tile; despite jagged holes where the urinals had been.
I found the weight-room, now gleaming with light, and its crowded exercise equipment.
A brawny workman sauntered in, erected a tall step-ladder, and installed a small HVAC vent.
He also installed a second vent. Leo J. Roth HVAC services — in business since 1949. 89 bazilyun dollars please. (Even an engineer coulda done it; although they probably woulda needed a team of six — one to hold the ladder, one to watch for terrorists, etc., etc.; all hot to take command.)
The improvements mean no satellite-radio — no XM26.
What they’ve done is install a small boombox on a window-ledge, and then tune it to a local radio-station.
The weights are still in the basement dungeon, and there’s one machine I use there.
So every visit I have to toddle down to the dungeon, past the mentally-challenged using a recreation-room and bellowing at a pool-table.
Boom-chicka-boom-chicka-boom-chicka-boom-chicka — the dungeon also has a boombox; and it’s tuned to “The Drive.” (Don’t radio-stations ever reveal their call-letters any more?)
The new exercise-gym (the old weight-room) had a boombox tuned to “The Fox.”
Naturally, each radio-station has a different format; “The Drive” playing essentially what’s on XM26, and “The Fox” playing stuff from the late ‘60s and early ‘70s.
Compared to satellite-radio, the difference is the ads: screaming furniture ads (“never pay anything at Raymour & Flanigan”) and Billy Fucillo (a Hyundai dealer) bellowing “HUGE-AH” every two seconds.
But “The Fox” was pleasant.
How long has it been since I heard Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young singing “Tin Soldiers and Nixon’s coming; four dead in Ohio.......”
Another pleasant memory was “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely-Hearts-Club Band” by the Beatles. WOW; one of the most extraordinary pieces of music I’ve ever heard. (HERE WE GO!)
Thankfully, they didn’t bring in Ty Pennington and his crowbar-wielding blue-helmeted marching-minions to perform an Extreme Home Mayhem last week when they were closed.
What they did do was transfer all the exercise-equipment out of the old exercise-gym into the newly remodeled weight-room; treadmills, ellipticals, step-machines, and exercise-bicycles; cheek-to-jowl with their ancient Nautilus equipment.
The hallowed Nautilus-circuit, which no one paid much heed to at the time I was there — I only use four machines of 11 — had been broken up and wedged this-way-and-that.
Clearances between machines are minimal — expect to get showered in sweat.
All the Nautilus-machines are there, just scattered around. They’re wedged wherever they could find room.
So first I found out that the exercise-gym was little more than a dusty, hollowed-out shell.
No trespassing, apparently; although a hand-lettered sign said the mat-room was past a canvas tarp draping a doorway (the infamous door that’s not a door)
“Be careful,” it said; “and watch our dust.”
I treaded gingerly through a twisting maze, past an open closet, barricaded by yellow crime-scene tape, for electrical panels (probably for the entire building).
I also passed the tattered remains of the men’s downstairs bathroom — no toilets or urinals; they had been smashed to smithereens, and the dusty shards were in the dumpster out front, victims of Extreme Mayhem. (BALLPEEN HAMMER TIME!)
But I recognized the wall-tile; despite jagged holes where the urinals had been.
I found the weight-room, now gleaming with light, and its crowded exercise equipment.
A brawny workman sauntered in, erected a tall step-ladder, and installed a small HVAC vent.
He also installed a second vent. Leo J. Roth HVAC services — in business since 1949. 89 bazilyun dollars please. (Even an engineer coulda done it; although they probably woulda needed a team of six — one to hold the ladder, one to watch for terrorists, etc., etc.; all hot to take command.)
The improvements mean no satellite-radio — no XM26.
What they’ve done is install a small boombox on a window-ledge, and then tune it to a local radio-station.
The weights are still in the basement dungeon, and there’s one machine I use there.
So every visit I have to toddle down to the dungeon, past the mentally-challenged using a recreation-room and bellowing at a pool-table.
Boom-chicka-boom-chicka-boom-chicka-boom-chicka — the dungeon also has a boombox; and it’s tuned to “The Drive.” (Don’t radio-stations ever reveal their call-letters any more?)
The new exercise-gym (the old weight-room) had a boombox tuned to “The Fox.”
Naturally, each radio-station has a different format; “The Drive” playing essentially what’s on XM26, and “The Fox” playing stuff from the late ‘60s and early ‘70s.
Compared to satellite-radio, the difference is the ads: screaming furniture ads (“never pay anything at Raymour & Flanigan”) and Billy Fucillo (a Hyundai dealer) bellowing “HUGE-AH” every two seconds.
But “The Fox” was pleasant.
How long has it been since I heard Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young singing “Tin Soldiers and Nixon’s coming; four dead in Ohio.......”
Another pleasant memory was “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely-Hearts-Club Band” by the Beatles. WOW; one of the most extraordinary pieces of music I’ve ever heard. (HERE WE GO!)
posted by BobbaLew at 11:43 AM
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