I went to the gym today. For most of you that’s not any big deal but the last time I was at a gym Dwight D. Eisenhower was still president. OK, that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but you get my drift. It’s been a while.
My daughter called me this morning and told me I was going, and she was picking me up. Evidently, I didn’t have a choice in this. To be honest I had been considering joining one anyway, but today hadn’t been the day I had planned to stick my toe in to that little puddle. Walking through the door I realized this wasn’t just some little body of water, but I had been dropped in the middle of an ocean and told to sink or swim. After an hour of intense bodily torture my daughter took pity on me and we left.
Understand something here, for a lady of my advanced years and lack of serious exercise I rocked it. I even managed to surprise my daughter. She’s an excellent trainer by the way. We did start out by what I’m assuming she considered baby steps. Bikes, rowing machines, things you push together with your legs, things you push apart with your legs, things you push out on with your arms, some crazy contraption you just kick out behind you, and a rope that never ends. At this point you would think I would have had enough. No. Then came the stretches. Yeah right. When you get to be my age your legs will only separate so far and then they’re done. I think I may have dislocated a hip joint.
I did find out I can still pull one leg up to my chest and lay face down on the floor with the other leg stretched out behind me without too much pain. Hey, I consider that a win on my part.
Gina has warned me that I will be sore as crap tomorrow and I have her permission to call her and say F. You. Believe me if I feel the need to do that, I won’t just be using the letter F.
The question is, will I go back? You bet your sweet patootie. I had a ball, pain and all. That is how I feel right now but I’m told I may have another opinion regarding that tomorrow. Oh well, I’m going back. I may take up body building. If I’m going to have lumps at my age they might as well be little balls of muscle and not flapping folds of sagging skin.