KEEP ON MOVING

This morning I walked past the exercise room on my way to the swimming pool.  I stopped and watched in awe as I saw several really old folks (like me) pushing, pulling, sweating, grunting and walking on the exercise equipment. I’m not sure if any of them qualify as “hard bodies,” but no one can argue that they aren’t maximizing being as healthy as possible—unless one of the machines throws them off.

I take a different approach. I try to hike outside for at least an hour, or 45 minutes, every morning—unless the sun tells me it’s time for air-conditioning. I’ve also become an avid fan of Chair Yoga. I stretch and sit in a chair, because lying on a mat hurts my back. I even do Yoga exercises in the pool. However, I don’t touch my toes, because  then I would drown.

When I was a child, exercise involved Mom yelling, “Go out and play!” I enjoyed roller skating, but that meant wearing leather shoes and tightening the skates around my shoes with a metal key. Everyday, I’d hit a crack in the sidewalk and the skates would fly off and I’d go home with skinned knees. Safety wasn’t that much of an issue in those days. I can’t remember a piece of play equipment that didn’t bloody my elbows or knees. The see-saw was fun until I sat way up high and the kid at the bottom ran off to play elsewhere as I hit the ground.  I liked my bike with the thick tires until I hit a wall. In my case, Klutz took on a whole new meaning. My favorite exercise in those days was climbing the neighbor’s apple tree, eating the apples and making up stories about the clouds in the sky.

High School not only required physical activity but added a sadistic gym teacher named Fanny to the equation. If she caught a girl chewing gum in class, she’d make her spit the gum on the gym floor, step on it and then scrape it up with a dull knife. Fanny also shouted, “Scrub pimples with soap!” Climbing ropes was big on her agenda.  I was too short to reach the ropes let along climb them, and, Field Hockey was played without shin guards. I quickly volunteered to be the umpire.  I wasn’t a very good umpire, but my friends didn’t care because they weren’t very good players.

At college, I was required to take four non-credit quarters of physical education. My first choice was tennis which involved a lot of running around and trying to hit a little ball with my big racquet. I received an A for attendance. The second course I chose was fencing. I did quite well until a six foot Amazon came at me, and I ran like Hell. She chased me around the room until she realized that the rubber tip had fallen off her foil.  Then I stumbled upon a class called “Posture, Figure and Carriage.” That I could do!  I walked around with a book on my head. I think the teacher thought that one could absorb Tolstoy through the hair.  After walking around we’d lie down and learn how to relax, which I enjoyed very much—especially after walking in the snow— way across campus to get to the P.E. building. To fill the requirement, I took this class twice. The Physical Education, non- credit class was dropped the next year.  I think that was the year they added Statistics to the Foreign Language Department.

I used to be a good swimmer until I tore up my shoulder. So, now I go to the pool, do my Yoga, and then I float about with a pool noodle making up stories about the clouds.

 I have traded roller skates for a walking stick. When I turned 80, my son, Josh requested that I get one. He said, “Mom, when you go hiking in the mountains the walking stick will protect you from falls, and from mountain lions.” He was right. So far, I haven’t fallen or been eaten by a mountain lion. The one time I did encounter a mountain lion, she took one look at me and obviously had no taste for old meat.

Esther Blumenfeld  (Four breaths in.  Five breaths out.  It works every time