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Fitness, preceded by brainless.... - Blather. Rants. Repeat.
A Møøse once bit my sister ...
Fitness, preceded by brainless....
Two court hearings today, 1½ hours apart.  Rather than turn around and head back home after the second one, I continued on to Rochester; I'll continue even further on to see the kids tonight, then get to spend some quality time in here tomorrow, with no mail or courts and just about everybody out.

That first hearing went okay, but only after a bit of a brain fart: after every client files bankruptcy, the court notifies them of their hearing date, but I also immediately send them my own letter with more detailed information.  Included is where to meet me: I usually prefer they come straight to the courthouse (whichever of about six that might be), but some require extra handling for various reasons: they don't drive, or might have mobility problems, or might, I don't know, show up four blocks away at the wrong courthouse despite my telling them where to go (and, in at least one case, my having taken them to the right one the previous month).  These clients today were relatively sane and free of disabilities of all kinds, so I guessed I'd told them to meet me downtown.

Never guess.

I tell every client that before they testify to anything, and I even told myself that: being unsure, I riffled through the file at every red light on the way to the expressway, and couldn't find the copy of the letter. I got all the way downtown, more than the appointed 30 minutes early, with no panicked calls from the office as I listened to streaming radio via my phone in the car, but saw, as I pulled up in front, a text. They were there, not where I was.  Fortunately, Buffalo is basically a giant TARDIS where you can get anywhere in under 20 minutes, and they walked into the hearing room exactly as the presiding official's spiel was beginning. First in, first out, case closed.

From now on, I'm writing on the outside of the fucking file where I told everyone to meet me.


It's now 4:40. The class I now attend has a location here, and you can use your monthly quota of sessions at it, as well.  I now have enough room on my phone for their app, so I clicked to change the location from Amherst to Pittsford- which brought up all their New York locations, plus one, um, odditay:

I don't think I'll make it to Queensland by 1730 for "Orange 60 with Bruce."

Overall, I'm liking the routine, but weekends can be tricky.  Their Saturday classes fill up very early in the week, and their procedure for waitlisting is still wonky.  This past Saturday, I couldn't even get on the waitlist at first; by Friday night, some had dropped off it but I couldn't get any higher than 3rd out of 5; when I fed animals Saturday at 5:30 there were still two ahead; but when I checked it for giggles at 8:30, half an hour before having to be there, it was open to sign up for.

Too soon. Instead, I did an earlier-than-usual 8:00 class on Sunday morning, "Orange 60 with Awkward."


The trainer I was with for over four years goes to these. She also goes to Crossfit, Yoga, Barrecentric, Olympic weightlifting and presumably Marine basic training in her spare time.  I stopped going to her gig because it just stopped being effective or even interesting. We got very little hands-on instruction, and she spent most of the hour either gabbing with friends who were in the class or doing her own fitness moves in the corner of the gym.  At least a few others from our original group are over at Orange now, and there were mentions from some of them and others along the same lines.

I'd never done an actual class with her in it before- had seen her coming out as I was going in once or twice, and it was cordial but quick.  I did learn that she doesn't bother wearing the heart monitor that's the center of their routine: your goal is to stay in the "green" zone of 80-90% of your maximum heart rate for half the class, and then roughly half of that in the even higher 90-100% "orange" zone.  Amazingly, I do this regularly now, as do most of the other attendees whose results are displayed on monitors in the studio. But not hers- whether she just instinctively knows what her heart rate is, or doesn't want anybody else to know, I have no idea.  But it's symptomatic of a level of competitiveness and elitism that finally got me out of there.

Even stranger for the time we were both there: I never got a word in edgewise. She must've come in late, and she definitely left a few minutes early, and in between I saw her any number of times and she never once acknowleged my existence. I don't know if she's just so totally zoned while working out, or if she's mad at me for abandoning the group.  Also, I rather don't care.

I do care about getting down 441 and Allen's Creek in under 20 minutes to get into this class, though. Fortunately, this city is basically a similar TARDIS, even if it isn't quite as big on the inside as Buffalo.
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