“I turned 55 today and would like to sign up.”
That’s what I told the receptionist at the front desk of my local senior center last month. I learned that the minimum age to join was 55, and hit the ground running on that birthday. The receptionist smiled at the enthusiasm I assume she doesn’t experience too often.
I’m not ashamed to say I joined the senior center, since I’ve never adhered to ageism in my life. However I do get odd looks from friends, especially younger ones, surprised I voluntarily placed myself within that grouping.
Why did I join so quickly? Because they have an excellent assortment of exercise classes and activities. I have never enjoyed a gym environment, having tried several times with memberships in the past and finding the experience a waste of money. I’ve also attempted organized sports in the Atlanta area but found them way too competitive for me, as I am not one to take myself too seriously as an athlete.
Because senior centers are usually part of the county’s parks and recreation department, the cost is minimal due to tax funding. That way I can try out these classes without feeling a financial burden or immediate commitment. And, I assumed, I’d be able to get back in shape from sitting too much during the pandemic in what I assumed would be a more nurturing environment with seniors.
I was correct on both counts, there are plenty of opportunities to get back in shape, and my classmates have been very welcoming and helpful on what to expect. What I didn’t anticipate was how hard it is to keep up in these classes. Anyone who thinks being older makes you less active is mistaken. Each week I find that even though I may be the youngest in the classes, my elders are kicking my butt.
I started out with tai chi. That should be an easy introduction to the center, I thought, but I sweated through that ancient instruction more than I ever have before and was barely able to function afterwards. The weights class, forget it, and even the stretching class had me marveled at the flexibility of the retirees scattered around me on their floor mats. I made the mistake of trying out a cardio fusion class, barely making it through the 45 minutes of nonstop activity, and am almost scared of the Zumba class I have coming up.
In the car following one of these workouts, exhausted and wondering why I was putting myself through this, I muttered I was doing this for the grandchildren. I’d like to be around to meet them, and give them a good example of what growing old means. Funny, that is probably the best thing about this senior center. These patrons are showing me a positive message about growing older. They show up, keep moving, and aren’t done with living a full life. Now it’s up to me to make sure I follow in their cross trainers.
