Baile Rochel Wimps Out of a Swim, But Pumps Iron Instead

Our intrepid golden age athlete, yours truly Baile Rochel, can't handle the cold very well. Yes, heaven for me is sitting in the sauna or soaking in a jacuzzi. My only problem is that sometimes my gold necklace gets dangerously hot, but no sweat.

The past few weeks there have been problems at the pool I belong to. Not only hasn't the pool been hot enough, the jacuzzi barely reaches body temperature. Even before checking the posted temperatures on the wall it's easy to see the lack of thick cloud of steam hovering over it.

One of my friends who drives there is a lot more tolerant of chilly, icy water. I guess she still misses the icy lake water of the "old country." 

The other day when we arrived, I joined the parade of wishful, though cautious, swimmers and checked the temperature readings before even taking off my jacket. It was clear to me that not only was the jacuzzi too cold, but the post-swim shower would be freezing. 

Well, since I was already there in the health/fitness center, I looked for an alternative to sitting in the lobby playing with my cellphone. 

Even though decades have passed since I had stepped onto a treadmill, the high-tech gym called to me. It's also included in the price of my "pool membership" and has been on my "to do" list.

I opened the door and peeked in. Everyone seemed so busy and confidently "at home." I courageously walked around asking:

"Who's in charge?"

At my age, not only can a foolish move be dangerous, but some gyms demand proof of "fitness" before letting us "seniors" try out even the most gentle of machinery. When I finally found the instructor, a female who looked around the age of my oldest children, I mentioned that it "had been a long time" since I last worked out in a gym, but since the pool is cold...

I mentioned that I'd like to try the treadmill, so she showed me how to turn it on and off. For some peculiar reason, my body kept contorting, and I couldn't stand straight, but I soldiered on. I played around with the speed and incline, but I must admit that it felt a lot longer than ten minutes. 

After reporting to the instructor, I let her choose various machines for me. She instructed me in reps* & sets,* making sure to take out or reduce the weights/resistance according to her judgement as to how much my body could safely handle.

About a half hour after I had started, I decided that for a newbie* this was enough. I told her so and then asked how old she thought I am. She took a good look and answered:

"Fifty."

I gave her a big hug and thank you, revealing that I have a daughter of that age. That's the best encouragement any one could give me. I'm seventy-two and not embarrassed to admit it. 

Gd willing I'll be back there, instead of one of my swims each week. And in case you're wondering, that night and the next day I did feel my muscles kvetching, but not as much as I had expected.

*fitness slang