Keep on keepin’on? Nope, not me.

Is this your idea of retirement?

 The easy road.  Man, I wish the easy road was reality…  I really do.  It would make life less complicated – or maybe not. The easy road. What a wonderful concept! Roll on, oh silver lining. I guess there really is a silver lining in every dark dirty cloud we accept as our life. Seeing your life as a dark cloud of misfortunes is strictly a matter of choice.

Taunting yourself that everyone seems to have it easier or better than you is self-flagellation at its worst. Poor pitiful Pearl.

I’m a senior citizen.  Yea, I know.  I don’t feel like one.  I feel like life is really opening up opportunities. Of course, real opportunities don’t come to us by winning the lottery, or Publishers Clearing House winnings. Opportunities come with sweat, blood, and often tears. Real opportunities require that four letter word – work and let’s not forget that other bad word, sacrifice.

That peaceful easy feeling Glenn Frey wrote about is not so peaceful or easy when it comes to getting something worth having.  It’s a struggle brother. It’s suffragette city.  Its sunrise on the wrong side of the city, sky high, and six thousand miles away. Yes, it’s real work and there is no easy living. You want it? You work for it, or wait a lifetime for something that will most likely never happen.

I’m retired. Life should be the life of Riley, right? Wrong. Life is a battlefield sister. Let someone else have that hammock and glass of ice tea. You watch that fellow run a marathon in Houston and think you could never do that. Wrong. You can do it, just not in the time they did it. You have to get your buns off the couch and start moving those gams. Get a plan and stick to it.

Jimmy Buffet has it all wrong for the most part. Lying around on the beach drinking tequila and thumping lime slices into the Gulf all the time is for delusional slackers and drunks. All you will end up with is perpetual sunburn and parrot poop on your clothes. Anything worth having is worth working for, remember? That sandy island retreat is a reward and should be a very short one - not a long term existence.

I read an obituary of a man of 86. His 60-something son wrote it and was extolling the work ethic virtues of his father. In the Obit he said his dad was learning Chinese at the time of his death. The list of disciplines he had subjected himself to over the years was amazing. He never let up. To me he is an example of what I should attempt, not that I have a history of taking it easy or anything. I just think there is more and I want it and am willing to work for it.

Sure I play the lotto now and again, but like my youngest brother told me the other day, “Even if you won the Powerball, you would find a way to go back to work”. What he meant was that I would find another discipline to tackle, not go back into the chemical plants. I took this as a compliment.

Physically, there is nothing I am doing harder than the Group X classes at the gym named after the clock.  Boot Camp Monday, cycling (Spin) Tuesday, Les Mills Body Pump Wednesday, cycling again on Thursday, and finishing up with another Body Pump on Saturday. It is hard exhausting work and like my Tuesday Spin instructor Page Morton said the other day, “If this was easy, the place would be packed.”

Do we who push so hard do it because we like to abuse ourselves? Maybe, but the truth is we want short and long term benefits and results and we can’t get them by watching TV or videos of people playing sports. You can’t become a millionaire by watching poker players on TV either. How many times have we said, “Boy, I sure wish I could…” but we are not willing to go the extra mile to make it happen? I know I am guilty.

That silver lining is unreachable for us simply because we are not motivated enough to go after it.  It hurts to admit that to ourselves, but it’s true. Living below our potential is a lifestyle choice. Complacency is the result of those choices. Accepting these low standards becomes what we are. If you don’t like where you are – change it.

That forest full of trees can be cut down one tree at a time, so telling yourself the problem is too large is simply getting back on the hamster wheel you have allowed yourself to traverse. To be honest, I don’t always write such uplifting motivational stuff as this, but we all have areas in our lives that need to be visited now and again. Remember folks, your life is what you make it, so make it or keep dreaming.

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Is couch sitting your plan for old age?

Dick Van Dyke is 90 years old, still dances and eats a pint of ice cream every day.  One of my buddies at the gym is Al and Al is 80 give or take. He comes in 5 times a week to work out and he told me it is the secret to his longevity (that and his wife is quite a bit younger and he has to keep up with her – if you know what I mean).

Jack LaLanne finally died at the ripe age of 97. If you didn’t follow this amazing fitness pioneer, you need to look him up. Back when kids wanted to look like Charles Atlas, Jack was doing it right. In his tight jump suit, he was doing things that worked and will still work. Look up the word Burpee (exercise) on the Internet and then ask yourself if you can do ONE.

Jack LaLanne

If the answer is no, then I have good news for you.  You CAN do it, but it will take a plan and some time and some pain of sorts. The old saying of how do you eat an entire elephant comes to mind here. One bite at a time is the answer. You start with as big of a bite as you can handle and just don’t stop eating.  I have another concept to impart. Eating this elephant is going to take you a lifetime.

Like Jack did and now Dick, and Al, they move to keep moving. My pal Ren Fitts is a gym rat now after being told he was heading for a wheel chair. Does it hurt to push yourself at the gym? You better believe it does. Arthritic knees and joints scream their displeasure and we just push through it. It’s going to happen one way or the other, so why not fight against it?

The simple truth is it’s not too late to start. Did that get through? It’s not too late to start. I know. You say you have no history of exercise and you would be lost at the gym. You don’t know how to use the equipment and you would feel like a sore thumb at a coin-flipping contest. Let me think. There’s about a hundred other reasons for not going, but let’s take a look at how to get started.

Ren Fitts

Roseland, Jenkins, Blue Heron, and Emmitt Hutto Drive have good walking trails and they are free. Get a comfortable pair of shoes and go to one of these places. Your goal is to walk a 15 minute mile. When you can do this, you are ready to join a gym. I go to the one named after the clock, but there are others. The mornings are full of seniors, so that should be your target time, if possible. The evenings have the testosterone/muscles group and the place is crowded, so try to do the mornings.

Almost any person exercising will answer a question and help you with a machine, so don’t be bashful. The treadmill is a good starting place. If you start there, aim at walking at a 3.5 mph pace for one hour. When you can do that without needing a crash cart, move on to the elliptical machines in front of you. During the transition time where you worked-out on the treadmill, observed how to use this particular machine.

When you can do 30 minutes on this piece of equipment, you are ready to use the machines in front of those. You have watched many people during this time operate all of these individual machines, so now all you have to do it imitate them. At any time, you can ask one of the personal trainers (free of charge) to explain how to safely operate any of the machines. They will happily accommodate you.

You are now ready to bump up your training to a whole new level and you have a couple of options. You can hire a personal trainer to train you and train you they will. It’s not cheap though, but we are talking about your future health and fitness. Another option is the Group X classes. Spin class is intensive stationary cycling. Boot camp is anything goes and you are probably not ready for that. Strength & Body Pump is organized and intensive high repetition weight lifting. Zumba is cardio dancing and Yoga is pretzel human body twisting (I don’t do it but should). Do not fear these classes. The instructors are great and will recognize and accommodate your fitness level.

Join a gym or don’t. Exercise is more fun in a group dynamic though and you will meet interesting people who share your desire for better fitness and health. It’s your body, so take care of it and maybe, just maybe when you are 90, you will eat your daily pint of ice cream and then get up and start dancing.

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Exercise is not just for athletes

 I hang out with a pretty tough crowd at the gym. What? Another column about exercising? Geeze, BB can’t you write about food, or maybe give us an update on that danged bacon-luring dog catcher again? We do have an animal control problem here fella! What is your obsession with exercise?

Believe it or not, almost on a daily basis I question not only my motives, and goals, but my own sanity. Here’s how I roll; I do a Boot camp on Monday, Spin class on Tuesday, and Body Pump on Wednesday. I try to convince myself to take Thursday’s off for rest and recuperation – and am partially successful. Friday’s are a run day and since the temp has jumped into the 80’s at daybreak, this has turned my 5K run into something quite embarrassing.

Let’s break this down further and if you are still reading, there is a direct correlation between working your body with boosting your mental health. A good solid push of your muscles equates to a positive state of mind. I love to ask other seniors if they “got your money’s worth” as the exit the gym and 100% report they did, often with a weary grin.

At the gym named after the clock, our Boot camp instructor is a young personal trainer named Chelsea. Last Monday, Chelsea with her sweet demeanor and semi-soft commands nearly “killed off” the entire class of hardcore trainees. I use that term to define a point where people walk out prematurely or collapse at the home-20 and take a good nap in a coma state. Boot camp is a series of exercises that vary week to week designed to challenge ordinary work-out routines.

“I can’t feel my legs, Forrest!” I yelled out at one point and my peeps giggled. You see, working out in a group is fun and sometimes the classes take on a near monkey cage cacophony of squeals and grunts – and laughter as we all go into muscle fail mode. Fail mode is the point where your muscles are strenuously objecting to what your mind has told them they must do.

Our Spin instructor is a lithe cycling gynoid named Page and I swear she is a literal sadist at times. Her sweet smile belies the fact that she routinely tries to break everyone in the class. My friend Elaine came to her first Spin class Monday and I warned her to try and make it through the class by NOT doing what the rest of us do and I watched her grin the entire class as she peddled slowly behind us. In her mind I am sure she thought we were all nuts. The driving music in these classes helps us to get through and I often close my eyes and just peddle like a lunatic. I won’t lie and say it’s easy.

I’ve had a lot of instructors over the years, both in exercise and karate and our Body Pump instructor is the most incredible trainer I’ve ever had the pleasure of training with. Her name is Clarissa and she is indeed an apex instructor and a totally delightful person. Body Pump is a very organized and engineered weight lifting program designed to fatigue every major muscle group in sets of threes or more. Just when your muscles scream for relief, you change to something else. At the end of the class, you are exhausted and for some strange reason, there is a lot of water on the floor around you.

Clarissa knows and sees all and misses nothing. Her commands are as exact as her movements and you immediately are aware that she really cares not only about your safety, but your development. On top of everything else, she will remember your name after the first class. Her instruction is mixed with philosophy, positivity, and encouragement. I am truly impressed by this instructor as you can tell.

The crowd I train with are tough. They have endurance and stamina and take their training seriously. I cannot hang with their schedule though. They often meet at 6am and run for an hour, or come to the gym 2 hours early to lift weights and then take one or more classes. Most are in their 40’s, 50’s, and 60’s too – like me, but I just can’t hang like that.

Those dang women are something else!

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To Pump or Not To Pump?

This is Baytown Bert in Baytown, Texas. August 29^th, 2014 and this is Podcast 10

Sweat.  Grunting.  Hormones.  Spandex.  Muscles.  More sweat.  More grunting. 

I’m talking physical fitness here, not speed dating and I’m talking a lot of commitment too – again unlike speed dating.  Each repetition, each crunch, each set of dumbbells bringing me closer to that Arnoldesque physique I always envisioned I would someday have.

I had no idea when my bride coerced me into joining the local clock-sounding fitness club that I would regain the lost muscles in my shoulders, or that many seniors regularly work-out and when I say work-out, I mean work-out.  We usually arrive around 9am and leave about an hour to two later and the gym is probably fifty per cent people in their fifties and over.

Like most everyone in the gym, exercising is a solo activity and most of us keep their eyes averted and follow the routine they believe will bring back their vitality – but, I know in my heart each of us are “checking” everyone else out.  It’s a body makeover place and everyone there is trying to get someplace they either were or want to go.  It’s a place of sweat and people watching.

Talking is nearly impossible anyway, as many wear earbuds, or Beats headphones, even though the loud speakers are sending out a rhythm designed to motivate us to higher levels.  Then there are the 12 TV monitors on the ceiling so a person can watch the sports channels or find out what Rosie O’Donnell and the other clucking hens think about who knows what. 

Me?  I’m old school Rocky, working out in the basement gym.  No headphones for me.  I aggressively move from machine to machine, barely resting and my muscular friend Derik Hammes tells me this is why I am so sore.   I don’t care.  I am there to slam my body into shape.  I want to look like the 20-30 year olds with the cut physiques, tiny waists, and extra large biceps.  No pain, no gain.

I’m in my third month of 4-6 times a week and I found out quite early on that my weakest muscle group is my shoulders and on top of everything else, my left shoulder positively aches at times.  I have to set the shoulder press at a lower weight and do multiple sets to warm up before I move to the heavier stuff.

I would say that the balance of sexes is close to 50 percent too and that brings up the pump part.  The club has a number of organized classes, one of which is Body Pump where light weights are integrated into a cardio workout.  Would you believe it is mostly women in that class?  Where are all the behemoth testosteronees?  Then there is the Spin class where a very toned lady rides through a series of exhausting stationary bicycle up and down hills for an hour yelling encouragement like a buff drill sergeant.  Almost women exclusively here too and this brings us to big kahuna; the Zumba class.

I pretty much think this is a class for women only, as men’s hips just can’t replicate what the instructor is asking students to repeat.  To be truthful, I do not ever want to be witnessed doing these moves, or I will be forced to turn in my man card.  Don’t get me wrong now, none of it is vulgar, just feminine in nature and women’s anatomy facilitates the gyrating movements.  In fact, I don’t even want to envision another man doing them.

The Body Pump class is a different story – I think.  I want to try it.  I think I can do it.  I’m just wired in such a way that I don’t want to fail and especially in front of a bunch of fit womens.  Yes, I said womens and I know it is grammatically improper, but I have to maintain my masculinity by talking like a caveman.  I’m at the gym for crying out loud.

They had a Boot Camp starting in the gym the other day and at the last second; I rushed in and took my place by the wall at the end of the line.  The drill was wind sprints, something all b-ball players know all to well.  You run down, touch a line on the floor, then dart back and touch the starting line.  Then run out further, repeating the process until you’ve ran 4 times and finally return to the starting line.

I’m competitive to a fault.  I’m 62 and everyone there was much younger than me, but I beat them all… twice.  To my horror, it appeared they might do it again and my man card was suddenly in danger.  Claiming my knees might not survive a 3rd time, I waved, smiled and exited the court into the gym and it took me 3 minutes to catch my breath over where the small group couldn’t see me. 

Never mind.  Yea, I’m ready.  Bring on the Body Pump!