Send in the clowns

When I was a child, I loved to visit the circus when it came to town.

It was always a surreal experience, complete with a kaleidiscope of streaming colours, the signs and the rides blinking harsh bursts of blues, whites and reds , creating a cocoon of swirling light under the bedtime sky.

The lights throbbed to the repetitive and peppy beat of organs and the sounds of people voices merged into a steady babble of white noise.

Inevitably someone said, bring out the clowns. And they came. Pale figures with swollen noses and mouths painted lipstick red, frozen in a permanent smile.

The children always flocked to the rides — shrieking with delight.

I learned at a young age to stay away from the rides — they produce two effects: fear and vomit.

I’ll face the fear but can do without a splurge of sticky green smeared over my Levis.

The circus doesn’t come to Kanata.

But might I suggest a visit to the YMCA (or any commercial gym) for a similar experience.

In place of the rides you have an odd assortment of aerobic and weight-lifting machines, that your fingers just ache to try.

They simulate lifting, pulling and pressing.

But with the lifting, pulling and pressing comes the pain.

Oh the pain.

Editor’s note: when you begin a weight lifting regime, do not, repeat DO NOT, select a weight you ordinarily could not lift without screaming like a banshee and exerting an effort similar to giving birth.

It hurts.

Now the YMCA doesn’t have any clowns.

However, like most gyms it has women who wear a lot of makeup, which limits the intensity of their exercise — otherwise sweat tranforms their faces into a pizza horror of lipstick and mascara.

In place of cotton candy and sugary drinks, you have protein powder and water.

Following exercise comes a visit to the change room.

The horror.

First you are struck with the noise, a slapping sound, flesh on flesh.

And no it’s not the noise of bare feet hitting tiles.

Suffice it to say naked men — especially 90-year-old naked men — should always wear a towel when naked.

The sights and sounds of your local gym rival the pagentry of the circus.