Single, alone, boring, depressed, I started hanging out in a pub in my neighborhood, I drank more than I needed, and on weekends I smoked more weeds than I could justify. I still got some exercise in an unpleasant way — but I lost my passion for it. Gyms, pools and yoga classes seemed more and more distant destinations. And I was diagnosed with high blood pressure in early 2018. This wasn’t unexpected. Three of the five sisters had it as well as my mother, and my number was always a little higher. My doctor prescribed the drug, which also told me: “You need to strengthen your cardiopulmonary function.”
“Yes,” I replied. “I thought you would say that.”
At the age of 57, exercise changed from what I wanted to do at my disposal: to look good and to feel good, to what I really had to do to stay healthy. No excuses.
It took a while, but I reunited with the exercise. The method is different, but some may say that they have met again. I have changed since Oliver’s death. I felt like a different person and my exercise changed. My relationship with it lacked a youthful obsession and now felt like a civilized arrangement between ex-girlfriends until middle age. I resumed exercising and swimming on a regular basis, my blood pressure returned to normal, I lost weight, and by my 59th birthday in January 2020, I felt better physically and mentally than for a long time. rice field.
Then a pandemic occurred. I had to adapt when the gym closed.
It was okay to do my own thing at home for a while. However, it became clear that Jim wouldn’t be reopening soon, so it turned out that he missed the pumps from weightlifting, from supersets and staff to fatigue, and from the next day’s muscle aches. I missed swimming. And perhaps above all, I always missed the sense of community I found in the gym.
But just staying at home has had one big advantage all the time. It is a resumption of work on the book “Sweat” on the history of the movement from a new perspective.I Own The history of the current movement.
Six months after the blockade, I waited until the pool could be reopened before resuming Jim membership. And I went on the first day. I saw only the other two men in the locker room. And the numbers were matched by the masked janitor busy disinfecting the surface. The sauna and spacious steam room were probably closed indefinitely forever, reminiscent of the crumbling ancient baths found in Rome, or Thermae. It is a ruin of another era and another culture. It all seemed very depressing. But I told myself not to live. I immediately changed into my swimsuit and headed to the pool. My swimming appointment — up to 30 minutes — was 2:10 pm. I felt like going to a doctor’s appointment.
The guard confirmed my reservation and explained the rules. Always wear a mask except just before entering the pool. He handed me a plastic sandwich bag for storage by the pool. Unlike in the past, swimmers had their own lanes — lane sharing and circle swimming are not allowed. Lane 1 was empty, he told me, and I was able to go ahead and swim.
