Sandy and I used to go to the gym for an hour two or three times a week. She liked to walk around the track for two or three miles. I would walk a mile and then hit the machines for the rest of the time. Then we stopped. No good reason. Just lost the habit. A year passed. We started again but before long we’d stopped going again. Last week I signed us up again and yesterday was the day when we agreed to start back. Sandy was on her way after work and I was to join her there after a meeting across town. My meeting ran late and we had to cancel our gym date. Not a good start.
I enjoy being physically fit a lot more than the process of getting there. Even back in my days as a baseball pitcher I tended to play my way into shape as the season progressed rather than work out prior to the beginning of the year. I’m still in reasonable condition but that’s more a blessing of genetics than from anything I do to earn it. Each morning when I go to the kitchen for coffee, I walk in the dark so I can look at the lake. In the kitchen I turn on the light to pour coffee. Then, holding a full cup in each hand, I stand in front of the light switch, lift one leg, and turn off the switch with my foot. I’ve never spilled a drop. It’s my morning test to see if I can still do it. As long as I can, who needs the gym? Okay, maybe we’ll get there on Wednesday. Wait, I have a meeting that evening. Okay, maybe Friday will work.
Sandy saw someone on Sunday Morning a couple of weeks ago who said he was in his 80s and he and his wife had sex almost every night. Almost on Monday. Almost on Tuesday. Almost on Wednesday. For us, the gym is like that. We almost go every day.