Two recent moments:
91.
My gym offers a rudimentary fitness profile. The aerobic test is on a stationary bike, so naturally I nail it. The technician's eyes pop out. She's never seen a V02 this high: 67, whatever that means.
Then she administers the strength test, which measures how hard my hands can squeeze a caliper-like contraption. It goes something like this:
"OK, squeeze this as hard as you can."
Pause.
"I said, squeeze this as hard as you can."
"I am."
"Oh."
She circles "1
I almost protest the nature of the test. "But my legs! Test my legs! I have arms of cheese but legs of steel!" No matter. As it is in life so it shall be with my fitness: My capacity to endure will always overshadow my ability to apply force.
92.
There used to be a restaurant downtown named Mirage. Months after it closed, its signage remains, so it looks like there's something there, but there's really not.