Tuna Cans and Work Outs at the YMCA

Monday morning I was back at the YMCA after not going for three days in a row. It was hard to get my muscles warmed up again and that treadmill and I were barely on speaking terms, but I put in my time. I‘m not a person who loves (or who has ever liked) physical activity. Playing on the playground when I was a kid didn’t even call my name. Recess? Can’t I stay inside and finger paint? Please! Nope, for me exercise has always been more like punishment for eating my way to a bigger dress size. And don’t be deceived by the stack of VCR tapes in the house with names like Disco Sweat with Richard Simmons, Dancin’ Grannies and Dance Away to Fitness. No one plays them here where Ben and Jerry’s ice cream is King of the World.

The idea, when I signed up for the Y, was to lose the weight I gained over the winter and I vowed not to buy any new clothes until I’d achieved that. But I broke that vow early-on because I wanted to fit in at the gym. I’m embarrassed to admit how many workout pants and shirts I’ve brought home from the store only to return them. The pants are skin tight by design and the tops are light weight and with the right back lighting they’re practically see-through! So until I find the right gym gear I'll keep wearing my Boxer Joe lounge pants and old t-shirts and I continue observing what the others wear. What I learned is that the guys get to be super comfortable in baggy shorts or sweats and t-shirts and roughly 75% of the woman wear the exercise outfits sold in the stores---even a 20-something woman I’m guessing is wearing a size 5X. As for body types at the gym, I’ve seen them all. I like to think of the range of sizes and weights as the “befores” and “afters.” I’m in the before group, of course, who are just starting a program and with a lot of work like the afters are doing I can become one of them. At least that’s what I tell myself. I’m also not the oldest person I see at the gym. Side note: if a woman in my peer age group is looking for a man, the YMCA is the place to be! By hanging around the senior hall so much, which is 90% woman, I’ve kind of forgotten that there are old guys still alive. At the gym that 90/10 ratio is reversed. 

Now that I’ve lost enough weight to keep my doctor from having a hissy-fit I needed a new goal. Not that I still don’t have a ton more to lose but when I see him in April the scale won’t rat me out, won’t tell him that I’ve been a very bad girl who spent too much time in bed with Ben and Jerry and other comfort foods. My primary goal, now, is to concentrate on getting stronger. My trainer says that’s gotta come first before I can do the more intense calorie burning stuff. (She's scary when she talks like that.) Can you believe it, last week I even had trouble opening up a bag of grounded coffee! And jars? I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about running pickle and jam jars over to a neighbor’s house while yelling, “Help me! Help me!” If they didn’t have steps without a railing at their front door, I would have. I bought a handy device for pulling the tabs on tuna and pop cans but I hate seeing that tool in my drawer. It reminds me that I’m an aging, weakling who could starve to death trying to get into boxes, bags and cans.

Already I’m seeing progress in getting stronger. Going up and down 150 steps like a "normal" person is amazing. My posture is better, too, and I was actually agile enough to cut my toenails yesterday without my body and bones cringing. One of my friends at the senior hall broke her wrist cutting her toenails. Though it should be noted that she broke more than her bones…she broke the Old People Rule about having throw rugs in the house. She was standing with one foot on the counter top and one foot on the rug when it started sliding and down she went. I would have made up a story rather than admit that to ER thus becoming one of the 38,000 seniors who have throw rug injuries every year. 

At the gym while doing my time of the treadmill I often wish I could make people watching notes for my blog. Like ‘crab lady’ who uses the track that runs in front of the bikes, treadmills and other machines I can’t name. She takes the turns at the ends of the track running straight forward but on the long side stretches she runs sideways like a hermit crab. She does this at least a half hour at a pretty fast clip. I’d love to ask her what she’s training for; my nieces guesses that she might be a tennis player. There are so many interesting people at the gym and I find that if I concentrate on making up backstories and goals for them then I don’t feel self-conscious or embarrassed about my own. Yesterday I saw a 40-ish woman jump on and off a two foot high stool twenty times while I was doing the same number of arm curls on a strength circuit machine and I thought, Wow, she works hard at her goal! If I keep coming to the gym there will be a day when I’ll be strong enough to tear the tops off from tuna cans with my bare teeth. ©

When I look like this, I'll buy a sports bra. Don't hold your breath.