Wednesday, January 13, 2016

Part 1: Me at the gym. Part 2: Why I love seeing older folks at the gym

Part 1:

I walk in.

Many times I forget I have my sunglasses on, but I'm too lazy to walk back out to the car to switch to my regular glasses.  So I'm Joe Cool working out in shades.

I get on the elliptical-type machine (there are 2 kinds that probably work different muscles, but I don't know which muscles) or a stair-climber.  If on an elliptical,  I do a mile, keeping my heart rate around 130.  I'm not busting a sweat usually.  If I'm on a stair-climber, I do 15-20 flights.

Then I go lift some weights and do floor work (planks and various modifications on the plank, mostly).

When I lift weights, I stick to between 5-15 lbs.  Sometimes I just stop actually lifting the weights and hold them.  When I see these big dudes lifting a gazillion pounds, and they are huffing and puffing and jerking their arms around, I wonder how much they could lift if they stopped moving and just held the weight?

After a half-hour, I am bored and leave.

Tonight, as I was writing this blog post, I started to burn the pancakes I was making.  I might be on the thinnish side, but it is certainly not because I work out with any enthusiasm.  I simply burn our dinners a lot.

Part 2:

I love old(er) people, in general but especially at the gym.  (Like 65 and up is what I'm going to consider older people.)

Maybe it is because I workout mostly during the weekdays, but there are usually older people there.  Not too many single, young people.  I think they probably go to LA Fitness or someplace cool.

It is inspiring to me to be around older people who go to the gym for a number of reasons.

First of all, they make me look like a freaking rock star fitness freak with my yoga pants and sports bra (covered with a shirt.....I'm not that kind of duckface, selfie-taking, show-off-my-lack-of-cleavage girl .)

Secondly, and more to the point, they totally don't kill themselves, and I think that is the key to real fitness longevity.  They don't bust their humps to the point that they are sick and sweaty messes.  They exercise, they get tired, they stop.  But THEY ARE THERE DOING SOMETHING.

And that is all I care to do.

Do enough so that if I have white hair and wrinkles all over me and a mess of grandchildren, I am still physically able to get myself to the gym and do something in moderation.  

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