I've weighed options over the last months. I'll set up a TV by my treadmill! I thought. But then I remembered that I hate running more than I hate the devil, and also daytime TV stinks. I'll run in the neighborhood, I thought. But then I remembered that I hate running and also I hate nature. Eventually I decided to try every class at the YMCA. So that's what I did last week. Technically I have not tried cycling, Zumba or Pilates yet, and I don't know that I will.
Now, you might be familiar with gyms on sitcoms and rom-coms where attractive people with just one big secret meet each other and sweat prettily in spandex stretched over their muscled 20-something bodies. That's not exactly the scene at our local Y. For one thing, the median age is about 70. "Active Older Adults" they call 'em, and those grannies can power walk something fierce. I don't mind this crowd a bit. In fact, I feel kinda like a PYT.
I did interval training, which is basically aerobics with a modern facelift, and I was very terrible at it, because there's a lot of hand to the right but leg to the left and by the time I figure out which side is right, the octogenarians are already walking backwards and stepping perkily up and down from risers. The other days I did things I was a little better at, like picking up stuff and jumping jacks and such. Friday, I did yoga and I was highly amused at myself but yoga is no time for jokes, because Buddha probably frowned upon gigglers. I did like how stretched I felt after the class. Planning on going back because I, like many of my senior comrades, have a little bit of a hunchback and I heard rumors that yoga might help out the ol' posture.
Also I ate good, for me, which might still be somebody else's very worst week, but I don't care so much about that. Will I sustain all this productivity now that I have the internet again? Time will tell.