Yesterday I renewed our membership at the Recreation Center, beginning year two of physical conditioning.
Deb admits that the reason she forced me to join her at the gym last October was that I am a creature of habit and routine. As a result, once I started going to the gym and added it to the weekly schedule, I’d force her to go along.
Smart woman, my wife.
For the last year, with few exceptions, we have been going at least twice a week; sometimes three visits over 7-8 days. In that time, I have toned up a bit, dropped some weight and have watched the weights lifted or added to the machinery edge up in number. Am I going to challenge Charles Atlas in competition? No, that’s not the goal.
In theory, doing all of this keeps me generally healthier and more flexible, an issue as age advances. I begin with thirty minutes on a cardio machine, usually reading the latest issue of The Week or some other periodical and then work my way through seven other devices. In 60-75 minutes I’m sweaty, tired and a little sore but certainly feeling virtuous as I trudge back to the car.
I have friends and relatives who have added exercise later in life and they have enjoyed it even more than me, actually competing in Iron Man Marathons or running 5K races. I don’t have those aspirations but I also see much older people in the gym and see that this will be a permanent addition to my life, in order to enjoy those forthcoming golden years.