I know exercise is good for me, but that doesn’t say I have to like it. If I wasn’t trying to stay a healthy, walking specimen, I don’t think I’d exercise, period! At 74, sometimes when I’m laying on the mat at the Y, looking up at the ceiling, I say to myself, “Carole, what on earth are you doing down here?”
When I’m down there on the mat, I think of Mom a lot. She never exercised. I have old photos of her, and after checking the date, I realized how “back to normal” she was, even after 11 children. I’ll grant you she didn’t exercise, per se, but she worked it off in the field, in her gardens and in her home.
I’ll admit I’m not a worker. I can sit and write for hours and not mind one bit. If my husband calls me to help with an outside chore, I help, but he knows I’m not into physical work.
Before I actually married Harry, he told me, “It took me five years to lose the weight I carried all my life. I want to maintain it.” So naturally, when you’re falling in love, you do things he likes to do, like walk! I started out, like a pioneer woman, trekking wooded paths up and down, interspersed with walks in town, block after block, with him.
Once married, when traveling, we’d walk the street of quaint towns. I was beginning to enjoy walks more and more.
I think we were around 50 years old when we graduated to bikes. For years, we lugged those bikes off the bike rack, into hotel rooms. Next day, we lugged them back on the bike rack. I must say, I did enjoy riding bike. The only problem I had with bikes was my husband.
One time, we stopped at a bike rental in a city and rented bikes for an hour. Since my husband peddled faster than I did, he told me, “I’ll keep coming back for you if I get too far ahead.” That was fine until I couldn’t see him in the distance anymore. I was at an intersection and had no idea if he went straight or turned the corner. I stopped, parked my bike and sat on the curb fuming. After a 15 minute fume, he was back. I refused to ride bike the rest of the trip.
Other times, he’d scare the heck out of me. If we’d get to a cross road with traffic, he’d angle to the right on the berm, take a quick glance at traffic and pedal across. Me. I stop, look both ways and push my bike across the street, yelling, “I’m not planning on killing myself today!”
Now that we’re older, we gave up our personal bikes and only rent bikes on our travels.
At home, my husband joined the Y with other Silver Sneaker buddies. Mostly, he rides bike, taking a book along to pass the time.
I decided to try Curves, where you listen to three minutes of music. When the music stops, you go to the next machine. There were about 20 or more machines that had you doing all kinds of maneuvers with your arms and legs. By the time I was able to coordinate my hands and legs with the machine, someone was standing by me and ready to jump on my seat. I got irritated. It took me three minutes to coordinate my body to the machine and then I had to leave.
I finally quit Curves and joined my husband at the Y, taking the Silver Sneakers exercise class instead of riding a stationary bike. I probably had a bad attitude before I even started the class. Over the years, I enjoyed bike rides, walks, especially summer walks, even walking in the snow. But, “real exercise” with an instructor, seemed like a bad rap at 74.
It’s not that I couldn’t learn the steps, but there were other things that bugged me. To name a few:
I don’t think I ever did so many contortions with my body, even as a teen. I can now sympathize with a baby octopus, who has to learn to navigate with all those tentacles, in water. One day we even exercised with a beach ball. Even with a child’s body on a ball, I have never seen a ball stay still, let alone with an adult body on it. I never even knew one could get sea sick without being on a boat!
Then there’s the music. It’s usually rock. I’m not sure if they play the music loud because they figure most of us can’t hear well. I’m even worried the instructor will go hoarse trying to yell instructions over the loud music. I don’t complain because I can easily move to the back of the room, where the music isn’t as loud. I could solve the whole thing if they’d accept music from my era, like “Moments to Remember” or “You Belong to Me.” I’m sure we could all pick up the beat.
Mostly, we have women in the class. Some are pre-menopausal, menopausal or post-menopausal. On any given day, I’m all three. Some of us, like me, are cold most of the time. Some of “them” are hot. “Them” like fans blasting in winter and doors open. Me doesn’t!
I thought I understood gravity until I came to this class. I can stand perfectly erect. When I’m lying on the mat trying to get my legs straight up in the air, they won’t stretch the way they do when standing erect. I have no idea what the ligaments wrap around when lying on your back, but they sure don’t stretch.
I don’t think a class goes by that the instructor doesn’t say, “Go at your own pace. If something hurts, don’t do it. Get water when you’re thirsty.” Not once have I heard her say, “Go home if you want to!” I’d be ready. She also tell us, “You can keep your hands low, medium, or swing them high.” Most of us take the low road, including me. Sometimes she’ll say, “Don’t forget to breathe.” Hmmf! Why that’s the easiest part of the whole exercise routine.
You know, I never thought I’d be wearing tights any more, but all the girls wear them, no matter what their age or size. So I succumbed and bought myself some tights. Most of us wear loose t-shirts over the tights. Loose is always good to cover up some flab. Sometimes there are 15 to 20 girls in the class, and I only noted two so far without any flab. The rest of us. well, we have some here, there and everywhere. I do have a small frame like my mother, but that doesn’t say I don’t have flab. In summer months, on a particular windy day, if I hold both arms straight out, like a flag, my flab proudly sways in the breeze.
Then there are the sneakers. I’ve had the same style sneakers for years. Now they came out with Five Finger shoes. Three in my class already have them. I checked them out on Google. It says they “encourage your feet to stay connected to the ground.” I kind of like that, staying connected to the ground. So one day I asked the girl with the Five Finger shoes how she liked them. She told me, “I love them! They are so comfortable.”
I then told her I checked them out on the website and was thinking of buying some for myself, but one thing bothered me. “What?” she asked. “Do they have an extension for bunions?” was my reply.
Just a few weeks ago, a friend of mine told me, “I just started the Zumba class at the fire company in town. The instructor asks for $1 from each participant to pay for the room rental. It’s fun!”
I decided I’d divide my time with two days at the Y and two days doing Zumba. I loved Grace, the instructor, immediately. She’s the same age as me. Before retiring, she was a dance instructor. I don’t have all the steps yet, but some women who have been coming to the class over a year, said they don’t have the steps down pat either. They told me Grace always says, “Don’t worry about knowing every step. Just keep moving those arms and legs!” Grace is my kind of girl.
You know, I’m enjoying this Zumba class more and more. It sure beats laying on a mat, staring at the ceiling and wondering, “What am I doing down here?”
Carole Christman Koch grew up in Berks County and has been published in numerous publications. She has a passion for writing and has many stories from growing up on a farm to everyday stories.
