I've gotten into the habit of doing my Sunday treadmill work late at night -- it doesn't keep me awake, and it gives me a chance for a post-service nap earlier in the day when one seems advisable.
It's a curious atmosphere. The other folks at the fitness center aren't ones I see during the week, and there's an odd sense of temporal displacement. The combination of the "end" of my work week and the late hour feels like I'm in a pocket of unchanged time. Like I'm sitting in a room with green shag carpet and furniture decorated with macrame throws, listening to side 2 of a Steely Dan album spin down towards the fadeout groove...
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