"We're Here For You--For Life" Sunday Journal

Re-inventing myself has involved a small physical transformation.  It was so obvious to me as to have been taken for granted.

Since last April, Mark and I have spent considerable time together visitng the Wellness Center, a health and fitness facility connected to a large hospital.  It was about a year after we lost our dog.  Both of us were in reasonably good shape but we needed something to re-tool our outlooks and help us find our energies.  Brooding was no longer working.  We looked around at various alternatives to get us moving again, and felt immediately comfortable here.

It is a regular commitment of time and a major activity that we share, which has somewhat transformed me, and I never wrote about it.  What can one say about exercise?  Well---not much, I think, unless one is an expert on fitness and has helpful advice for others on health and activity.  Besides, it sounds pompous and boring, to describe one's fitness routine, and it is only a little more exciting than hearing about one's hygenic activties like showering, or brushing one's teeth. 

No, I simply want to pay brief tribute to this place that has made us feel welcome, in spite of our previous reluctance to take the risk.  In a few brief paragraphs, I will attempt to record my thoughts and impressions about the experience. 

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When we had our first visit, we were offered a family membership.  No questions asked, no raised eybrows.  Our initial assumptions resulted in our holding an unfortunate and totally unfounded stereotype of a "jock mentality", and that we would be intimidated or treated with condescension. The truth was, for a facility located in a fairly conservative suburb, we were treated like friends, like family.  We still are.  

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We have made a lot of friends, on staff, and among the other members.  I try to circuit-train and am nowhere as advanced as the long-time regulars.  I observe, among the men who work out here, an almost embarrassed reluctance to make contact with other guys.  But when they are greeted, with a nod, smile, or simple word of encouragement, many of them take it in almost gratefully, surprising me with something like warmth.  Soon I am able to carry on brief conversations with some, more extended chats with others.  People who I thought would ostracize me or make fun, have become very supportive.  No one cares if I'm a beginner or advanced.  All are concerned about what others think of them.  The most generous of the lot appear to be the ones who attend regularly.  We go as much to see our friends as to reap the benefits.

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It has been more crowded since Christmas.  People are on vacation and have more time; some wish to burn extra calories from holiday festivities, and others are eager to use their new gift memberships, or their new sweat-suits or tennis shoes.  After a few days of soreness, or after the new apparel cycles through the laundry a few times, the crowds might winnow down to the regulars again.

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15 pounds have been shed.  I honestly don't feel different, except that my trousers need a tighter belt.  And my jaw seems tighter....the character has emerged.  People notice. People who know me comment.  Drastic comments, amazed.  It's motivating.

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I have come to rely on the calm that settles over me after a steady round of activity.  Sometimes I want to give up after about five minutes.  At first, I did.  Soon, I paced myself to those around me, and now a good hour is normal.  I have always loved to stretch.  Now it has become something of a religion.  Yoga has my reverence.

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The track can be the loneliest place on earth.  I ran a lot in my youth, even through adulthood, but good habits not repeated are often broken.  So I challenged myself to the track.  People much older than myself walk many laps.  I reflect on aging, and hope I will never lose my ability to jog, but this is wishful exuberance.  Folks younger than myself lap me on occasion...and leave the track before I'm through.  We always wave in greeting....

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Instead of counting laps, I count minutes, and keep a rhythm in my head....I don't use an i-Pod at the gym, so singing to myself provides me with the appropriate pace, and a mental exercise to coordinate with the physical.  Show tunes, of course...classic rock of the '70's...Rossini's Thieving Magpie...I surprise myself.

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The track is on the second floor, overlooking the gym, where guys shoot baskets or play half-court games.  But the isolation, when I'm frequently the only one up there...it's cold..it's like fear....I can look out of the large windows that wrap around the track, and often can see the sun set, and I feel like the only person on earth, even though I know Mark is downstairs, doing his usual aerobic machines.

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The trainers are a varied and interesting group.  One senior trainer shared a spaghetti sauce recipe with me in the locker room.  Another has his arms and back and legs covered with exotic ink....he has to wear long sleeves and sweat pants while on duty. A third gave us our first assessment, and she always talks to us about food after we're through...we always threaten to go straight for the nearest hamburger and fries. And the women at the front desk are as affectionate as sisters, sharing stories about their travels, their friends, and the classes they're taking.

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I am comforted by the large sign that is also visible from the track. "We're Here For You--For Life".  What a nice thing to hear a friend say.  May we all have friends who express that sentiment to us.