An Unintended Workout

I knew today was going to be jam-packed, but I had no idea just how much I would end up doing today. Here was my schedule:

9:30-10:30 UU Choir practice at chuch
10:45-12:00 Play for church service with choir singing
12:30-1:30 Potluck lunch, yak with friends
1:30-2:00 The first 1/2 hour of Worship Committee meeting, which I have to leave early from so I can get downtown in time for
2:30-4:00 Gig playing for audition class for BalletMet's Summer Intensive workshop. I then leave ASAP to arrive as soon as possible (though I will still be late) for
4:00-6:00 Windsong rehearsal (concert is this Saturday). Then I rush back to church for
6:30-8:30 Building Your Own Theology Class.

But how could anything else possibly fit into this schedule? you're probably thinking. Well, here's the story. Everything went great until I arrived downtown for the audition gig. It was held at the West Studio at the State Theatre (part of Playhouse Square). I have been gigging there intermittently for the past 18 years, and (other than it sometimes being chilly or the piano being out of tune) never have had any problems there. So I really didn't expect the scenario that awaited me.

I got there 10 minutes early (like a good little professional). I stuck my head inside the studio and noticed something unusual--the piano was gone. I glanced down the hallway and saw (what I thought was) the back of an upright piano against the wall. I introduced myself to the instructor and asked if there was someone who could help me move it back into the studio. She volunteered herself, and as we approached the "piano," we realized it was just a prop from the opera. The opera people were in the other studio, but there was only one piano in there and they were using it. Uh-oh.

I went down to the security guard, who first asked me if I had "ordered a piano" for the studio. He found the invoice, and, what do you know, there was the piano request in writing. He made a call to a worker, who was on break from 2:00-3:00. These are union guys, he explained. If he made them work during their break, they would charge double. They wouldn't be back until at least 3 and then they still had to "locate" a piano and then bring it up the freight elevator. I figured that, since the audition was over at 4 and it was now 2:30, by the time they got their act together it would be too late.

So after relaying this unwelcome information to the instructor, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I ran like a bat out of hell back to my car (3 minutes), drove home, making all the lights and only speeding a little bit (9 minutes), ran up the stairs to grab my little keyboard and accessories and back out to the car (2 minutes), and drove back downtown to my same parking spot (10 minutes). Fortunately, it was a nice, dry day. I then slung the 15-pound bag of accessories over my shoulder, tucked the 20-pound keyboard under one arm, and galumphed back to the studio and up the stairs (4 minutes). Smiling ballet moms greeted me and held doors for me. The instructor was beside herself with relief. "Oh, you're beautiful!" she exclaimed ecstatically.

She started showing an exercise when I entered the room, and by the time she'd finished I was all plugged in, set up, and ready to play (60 seconds).

Another example of how my regular workouts are paying off!
Total time spent saving the day: 25 minutes
Cardio minutes: 8
Strength training minutes: 6
Total minutes in target heart-rate zone: at least 25. Nothing like a beat-the-clock challenge to rev up the ol' metabolism!

Now my little keyboard is woefully inadequate for a ballet class. It only has 5 octaves. The touch is hard to control. I've banged it up over the past 13 years and some notes cause a rattling vibration or stick out too much or don't sound. But nobody cared. They were just so thrilled I was able to fix the problem.