Oldest at the gym

In looking around there at the gym, I must be the oldest. Of course I don’t have the latest and greatest gym wear. Nor do I bring all the gadgets like bluetooth and Apple watch. But I showed up. Like clockwork. Like I have always been there and forever I will be. Gym fees are automatically withdrawn also like clockwork.

As if on cue, every time I approach a certain machine, someone has just wiped it down. After Covid, this has been more of a routine. Folks came with large carry-on bottles, most refilled at the water fountain.

The abs area always seems to be available. It’s the most painful of all the exercises.

Thighs (sitting down) makes for a good multitasking chair i.e chatting away in between sets.

People pigeon the machines, hogging them or just standing around, looking around, checking out the chics.

Most got into a routine, for I can i.d. most of the familiar faces on that shift (before 9am).

Some machines broke down and no one reported to management. Hence, the gym capacity was not quite put to maximum use.

That tiny steam room is always occupied by a certain group of individuals. They practically “own” it.

So I avoid the turf, the territory. Locker rooms are OK, no incidents and no need for a pad lock.

Long ago, I used to bring my own, but of late, I just put on gym clothes each morning and be ready at it. In and Out.

One can take one’s health for granted. Only up to the day when the weather changes, when you have to go to Walgreens to visit the Cold/Flu section.

Winter sinus. Spring allergies. High Cholesterol, high-blood pressures. People are urged to check for lung cancer, whether they once were a smoker then quit.

Breathe in breathe out. Cardio and muscle toning. Health and no wealth. Mind and body. Self-destruction and self-preservation. For how long. For what?

I have noticed people prolong themselves relying on the system and process.

Work the system, I was told. Consume, consume, consume. Student loan, mortgage lending and mortuary pre-paid.

From cradle to the grave, we go through the motion, work the system, attend school and listen to lectures. Some of them make sense. Others, just passing the time.

Had it been earth-changing, we would have remembered, challenged and changed. Au contraire, they fed us the same dose of unreality, in the hope that some day, when we graduate into the “real” world, we can make an impact. To bend the world into one’s will. To play God and “save” it, and in the process, self-proclaim as little saviors.

At the gym, one accept the physical reality: a set of 3, 10 lifts at a time. Weight preset per body limits . A lie we tell our bodies: “you’re alright”. Good boy, good girl. Now go out and change the world. Weight scales never lie.

The world that sends its bills, demands its pay. It might give an extension but never gives us recognition and reward. Just ask the under-privileged, the under-paid and underserved. Ask the homeless who sleeps under the AMC sign (read also Breakfast at AMC).

Gym as metaphor. Metaphor for showing up, checking in with one’s self. To self-assure that we’re still OK, kicking and breathing. Until some day, one day, for sure, we no longer show up. As a regular or irregular. Ever.

The oldest at the gym. High maintenance. With bags under the eyes. Being left alone. Unsocialized. In a world that is always in a hurry to go someplace and be somebody. Greed is good. He who dies with the most toys wins.

The demographics of the gym, shows a huge bell-shape curve, with lots of young folks in the middle, and a dwindling population at its far-end. First the gym, then the coffee, senior coffee at McDonald’s. Then lunch at la Madeleine before a quick nap at the library. Work the system. Prolong the process. On the road, always. The journey is itself a reward. God knows to where, for the endpoint is not geographical. It is chronological and has no end. It’s our own expiration date that’s at stake. It’s prolong extension largely depends on and due to our health consciousness and gratitude exhibited each day, staring at the gym.