Iron

Went to the weight room today, first time in fifteen months.

Not as if I have been a complete slug the whole pandemic, but I know I have lost some strength.

Dunno how much, that’s because I didn’t let my ego overrule my brain — a hard-learned took-a-long-damn-time lesson — so I didn’t go near my previous poundages. 40-50% max on most exercises, save for lat pull-downs, and that’s because chin-ups were things I did frequently while homebound. Even there, I stayed under bodyweight.

I mentioned the protocols — appointment-only, maximum of eight  people in the weight room, windows and doors open, social distance, antiseptic wipes to the machines before and after each station. Could go maskless if you had proof of Covid vaccination, we put our cards on file, though my wife and I wore our N95s anyhow.

Two older guys working out when we got there, two women arrived about the time we were about to leave.

It wasn’t that hard, so I suspect I might not have become quite as decrepit as I feared, but it will take a few months to get back to where I was, if I can.

Older you get, the slower that happens.

I was never the strongest guy in the gym, and that by design; the iron is not forgiving; push it too heavy or fast, you will pay for it. Bench-pressing a Volvo is not worth the risk.

Careful as I have tried to be, I have tweaked or pulled this and that over the decades, and had to work around it. I wanted to be in for the long haul — staying fit and strong is the goal, being able to do what I need to do, picking up the dogs, taking the trash out, opening jars. Need does not equal want.

The journey of a thousand miles restart …