The Journey Continues

When I started out riding the bike and dieting, I was not looking to simply lose weight. I wanted to change the shape of my body. I wanted to go from a pear to an apple, from an A to a V. But I did of course track my weight, it's one of the few things you can quantify that easily when measuring progress. When my weight loss hit 25 pounds, I could easily see that I could stand to lose that again and then some. When it hit fifty pounds, people would call me "skinny," but in a teasing sort of way. When I lost 65 pounds the teasing was gone when they said "skinny." In fact, I thought I looked skinny. Problem is, "skinny" wasn't what I was going for. "Buffed" was more what I was thinking. And in my book, Younger Next Year  one of Harry's Rules is that you begin serious weight lifting.

So I joined a health club for the first time in my life. Once again, I'm more surprised than anybody. I could never have predicted that I would take up weight lifting at the age of sixty, or that I would like it, but I did and I do. I had scrupulously avoided a health club because of the inevitable long term contract. I was too afraid of losing interest and having to continue paying. But I found some great motivation at the gym that one cannot really get anywhere else. You see the one that I am going to is near some of the best real estate in Madison. And consequently every morning that I go to lift, the parking lot is full of Audi's and BMW's and the gym is full of old white men, most of whom appear to be there under doctors orders. There are a few old gym rats, who look as if they are maintaining their fitness. But the vast majority are there trying to improve their sorry state. And I do mean sorry. I can look at them and tell which ones are close to my age. And seeing how much they struggle to simply move about the room, or climb the stairs, is all the motivation you'll ever need.