Getting Fit At 50
Dear Diary
...
For my fiftieth birthday this year, my husband (the dear) purchased a week of personal
training at the local health club for me. Although I am still in great shape since playing
on my high school softball team, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and give it
a try. I called the club and made my reservations with a personal trainer I'll call Bruce,
who identified himself as a 26-year-old aerobics instructor and model for athletic
clothing and swim wear. My husband seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started.
The club encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress.
Monday:
Started my day at 6:00am. Tough to get out of bed, but found it was well worth it when I
arrived at the health club to find Bruce waiting for me. He is something of a Greek god -
with blond hair, dancing eyes and a dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!! Bruce gave me a tour
and showed me the machines. He took my pulse after five minutes on the treadmill. He was
alarmed that my pulse was so fast, but I attribute it to standing next to him in his Lycra
aerobic outfit. I enjoyed watching the skillful way in which he conducted his aerobics
class after my workout today. Very inspiring.
Bruce was encouraging as I did my sit-ups, although my gut was already aching from holding
it in the whole time he was around. This is going to be a FANTASTIC week!!
Tuesday:
I drank a whole pot of coffee, but I finally made it out the door. Bruce made me lie on my
back and push a heavy iron bar into the air - then he put weights on it! My legs were a
little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made the full mile. Bruce's rewarding smile made it
all worthwhile. I feel GREAT!!! It's a whole new life for me.
Wednesday:
The only way I can brush my teeth is by laying on the toothbrush on the counter and moving
my mouth back and forth over it. I believe I have a hernia in both pectorals. Driving was
OK as long as I didn't try to steer or stop. I parked on top of a GEO in the club parking
lot. Bruce was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered other club members.
His voice is a little too perky for early in the morning and when he scolds, he gets this
nasally whine that is VERY annoying. My chest hurt when I got on the treadmill, so Bruce
put me on the stair monster. Why would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity
rendered obsolete by elevators? Bruce told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy
life. He said some other nonsense too.
Thursday:
Bruce was waiting for me with his vampire-like teeth exposed as his thin, cruel lips were
pulled back in a full snarl. I couldn't help being a half an hour late, it took me that
long to tie my shoes. Bruce took me to work out with dumbbells. When he was not looking, I
ran and hid in the men's room. He sent Lars to find me, then, as punishment, put me on the
rowing machine which I sank.
Friday:
I hate that ?#*&!@%^ Bruce more than any human being has ever hated any other human
being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anemic little cheerleader wanna-be
?#*&!@%^. If there was a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would
beat him with it. Bruce wanted me to work on my triceps. I don't have any triceps! And if
you don't want dents in the floor, don't hand me the *&@#$*~ barbells or anything that
weighs more than a sandwich. (Which I am sure you learned in the sadist school you
attended and graduated magna cum laude from, you Nazi ?#*&!@%^). The treadmill flung
me off and I landed on a health and nutrition teacher.
Why couldn't it have been someone softer, like the drama coach or the choir director?
Saturday:
Bruce left a message on my answering machine in his grating, shrilly voice wondering why I
did not show up today. Just hearing him made me want to smash the machine with my planner.
However, I lacked the strength to even use the TV remote and ended up catching eleven
straight hours of the *$@#& Weather Channel.
Sunday:
I'm having the Church van pick me up for services today so I can go and thank GOD that
this week is over. I will also pray that next year my husband (the ?#*&!@%^) will
choose a gift for me that is fun - like a root canal or a hysterectomy.