by Anne Montgomery
I have worked out most of my life. I started ice skating at
five. I skied and swam. When I was 24, I started officiating sports and called
football, baseball, ice hockey, soccer, and basketball games, an avocation I practiced
for 40 years. When I was 30, I got my first health club membership and I have
had one ever since.
For the uninformed, Silver Sneakers is a health and fitness program that provides gym access and fitness classes for people 65 and older. It's covered by some Medicare plans. That means I no longer have
to shell out those monthly fees to the health club.
The idea, of course, is to keep old people moving so they’re
less likely to succumb to problems like heart disease, broken bones from falls,
high-blood pressure, diabetes, cancer, and obesity. If people get exercise,
chances are they won't become ill or injured, which keeps those Medicare costs
down.
I was feeling pretty smug the day I walked into the club and asked to be moved to the Silver Sneakers rolls. I had just finished swimming a thousand meters – sadly, I used to swim two thousand, but as I’ve already intimated, I’m old.
“Of course! I’d be happy to help,” a tall, twenty-something
smiled down at me. “Sit right here. Just show me your ID and your membership
card, Ms. Montgomery.”
I noted he was very solicitous.
After putting the important bits of information into the
computer and handing me my new key fob, he placed both elbows on the desk.
“Now, we can provide you with a free one-hour counseling session.”
“What for?”
He tilted his head. “To help you learn how to work out.”
I squinted. Did I look like I needed help finding my way around
the gym? Did I look like I spent my days on the couch eating Ding Dongs? Did I
look like I didn’t know a free weight from a foam roller?
Then, I had an I-glimpsed-myself-in-a-store-window moment. I know
you’ve done it. You walk by a reflective surface and the person you see staring
back is not the one you always imagined. I was forced to consider how this nice
young man saw me. He smiled sweetly. I stared back, realizing I might now
appear to be a little old lady.
I said I’d think about the offer. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to
see if there’s anything I’ve been missing. I thanked him and left. Though I
stared at the floor whenever I got close to a window.
Rebecca Quinn escapes her controlling husband and, with nowhere else to go, hops the red-eye to Arizona. There, Gaby Strand - her aunt’s college roommate - gives her shelter at the Salt River Inn, a 1930’s guesthouse located in the wildly beautiful Tonto National Forest.
Becca struggles with post-traumatic stress, but is enthralled by the splendor and fragility of the Sonoran Desert. The once aspiring artist meets Noah Tanner, a cattle rancher and beekeeper, Oscar Billingsley, a retired psychiatrist and avid birder, and a blacksmith named Walt. Thanks to her new friends and a small band of wild horses, Becca adjusts to life in the desert and rekindles her love of art.
Then, Becca’s husband tracks her down, forcing her to summon all her strength. But can she finally stop running away?
When she can, Anne indulges in her passions: rock collecting, scuba diving, football refereeing, and playing her guitar.
Learn more about Anne Montgomery on her website and Wikipedia. Stay connected on Facebook, Linkedin, and Twitter.
Great post! Can relate...have one of those memberships too.
ReplyDeleteAdjusting to old age is interesting. Sigh....
ReplyDeleteLol. I’d need that counseling session … if I Ever decided to join.
ReplyDelete