Death Of A Slug Eve
One more sleep. Tomorrow is the beginning of the end.
There is a lot going on in my life right now, not the least of which are processing retirement and separation, but I am resolute. Tomorrow I will go to the gym, and pay my first month’s membership and personal trainer fee and the trainer will introduce me to her instruments of torture. In preparation I visited three nearby facilities, and chose this, a ladies only gym, within walking distance of home. The owner is certified. The price is right. It’s a month to month, no annual contract situation: not to be a ready escape clause, I promise. I mean, it could be the death of me!
The facts: I have always hated exercise and was never good at sports (last picked for teams). Motherhood (of one, as a single parent) seemed not to slow me down at 30, but the inexorable tide of advancing years has incrementally rendered me overweight, stiff and sore with arthritis, prone to and terrified of falling, weak, lethargic, depressed and frankly longing for the finish line. Taking stock at 65: ready to label my pathetic memory as Alzheimer’s, got off the desk job treadmill as soon as Old Age Security payments of 607 monthly could replace my salary of 2400 monthly (OK, OK, I’m obviously no mathematician), and announcing separation to my husband of 18 years. This sounds like a mid life crisis! Or a fast track to a park bench. Whatever it is or it may be, them’s the facts.
Here’s the plan, and the inspirations:
Daily exercise (minimum 6 days a week) aerobic and strength....more when I learn what those really mean. Reference: “Younger next year” by Chris Crowley and Henry S. Lodge, recommended to me by my dear son, who’s a gym owner and fitness coach in Calgary (Ascension Fitness)! Truly, a genetic wonder: How could a slug birth and raise such a man?
Daily mass (minimum 6 days a week). True confession: I’m a Catholic. Better make that a 'lower case c' catholic! A convert 10 years ago. More to follow...
And tomorrow I’m headed to the gym, with a new pair of sneakers, to find a new life.
There is a lot going on in my life right now, not the least of which are processing retirement and separation, but I am resolute. Tomorrow I will go to the gym, and pay my first month’s membership and personal trainer fee and the trainer will introduce me to her instruments of torture. In preparation I visited three nearby facilities, and chose this, a ladies only gym, within walking distance of home. The owner is certified. The price is right. It’s a month to month, no annual contract situation: not to be a ready escape clause, I promise. I mean, it could be the death of me!
The facts: I have always hated exercise and was never good at sports (last picked for teams). Motherhood (of one, as a single parent) seemed not to slow me down at 30, but the inexorable tide of advancing years has incrementally rendered me overweight, stiff and sore with arthritis, prone to and terrified of falling, weak, lethargic, depressed and frankly longing for the finish line. Taking stock at 65: ready to label my pathetic memory as Alzheimer’s, got off the desk job treadmill as soon as Old Age Security payments of 607 monthly could replace my salary of 2400 monthly (OK, OK, I’m obviously no mathematician), and announcing separation to my husband of 18 years. This sounds like a mid life crisis! Or a fast track to a park bench. Whatever it is or it may be, them’s the facts.
Here’s the plan, and the inspirations:
Daily exercise (minimum 6 days a week) aerobic and strength....more when I learn what those really mean. Reference: “Younger next year” by Chris Crowley and Henry S. Lodge, recommended to me by my dear son, who’s a gym owner and fitness coach in Calgary (Ascension Fitness)! Truly, a genetic wonder: How could a slug birth and raise such a man?
Daily mass (minimum 6 days a week). True confession: I’m a Catholic. Better make that a 'lower case c' catholic! A convert 10 years ago. More to follow...
And tomorrow I’m headed to the gym, with a new pair of sneakers, to find a new life.
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