Exercising Regular-ly

We are a dedicated group, yes we are. Mondays at noon you will find us on our bikes, spinning for all we're worth (maybe considerably more). Tuesdays and Thursdays are for group weightlifting. Wednesday is kickboxing. Friday is yoga/Pilates.

No, you won't find any of us there five days a week -- we're not nuts. Each of us picks and chooses which of the noon classes we'll show up for, based on how we're feeling and what the rest of life demands from us. But we're regulars. Others come and go, but we keep coming.

Our instructors tell us that ours are their best classes of the week. "You guys work so hard that you make me work harder," says the spinning instructor. Then she stops laughing and gives us the ultimate compliment: "You guys. Kick. My. Butt."

We are also their oldest classes. Oh, we do see a couple of young mothers join us from time to time, a few college students, and some local news anchors who have yet to hit 35. But the core group of attendees ranges from 40 to 65, I'm guessing. I'm 50.

As a group, we are not beautiful or drop-dead handsome. But we are strong, fairly trim, and each of us has noticed a change we welcome, just from our regular exercise. Mike, a very hard worker, has gotten the tanned, bodybuilder bod he wanted. Greg blames "having to lift veritable cars just to keep up with these women" for continued recovery from a horrendous auto accident some years ago. Robyn has proven to herself that she can reshape her body at will, just by what she does and how often. Patti's happy to be holding the line on middle-age weight gain and retaining her high level of energy. The-guy-who's-name-I-don't-know has apparently found endorphins to his liking, because when the rest of us complain about how stupefyingly hard it is to burn up to 500 calories in a 45-minute spinning class, he beams and says, "I love it! I really look forward to it!"

For me it's about lots of little things. I sleep better in the days after a workout. Thanks to the fast-twitch muscle exercise of the kickboxing, I seem more able to catch things in mid-air when I drop them. My upper arms are solid and increasingly defined. My knees are in good shape. Though I'll never be a runner, the cardio I get allows me to burst into a jog now and then, just for the fun of it. Has the exercise forestalled the appearance of arthritis and peri-menopausal symptoms? I don't know, but I'd like to think so.

Researchers have long told us that any kind of exercise has benefits, so long as you do it frequently enough. My 92-year-old mother-in-law is energetic proof that a little resistance training and some balance work two or three times a week in a class for seniors keeps you active, independent and socially plugged-in. The old advice of "find something you like and keep doing it" still applies, for those who wish to keep the body in tune well into old age.

But, have you noticed? Those doggoned researchers have more recently told us that what we really need is moderate-to-vigorous exercise, if we expect to reduce health risks and increase longevity. We need to pant and sweat, they say (with doctor approval). Men, having played sports as boys, adapt fairly readily to panting and sweating. But we pre-Title IX girls didn't play sports, and for many of us, panting and sweating is a strong signal to stop. That's why I think the first hurdle in instituting a challenging exercise program post-50 (or earlier) is making peace with the red face, the loud breathing, and -- for guys especially -- the need to wipe up the floor around you after class is over.

Another significant hurdle is the gym itself. If you haven't been in a fitness facility since the 1980s or '90s, you're probably paralyzed by fear of sticking out like a sore thumb in your, um, mature body and your old T-shirts. You wonder if the staff will look upon you with disdain and immediately slap you with a 1,000-calorie diet plan. No worries; those days are past. Health clubs and workout centers have become very friendly places indeed, especially as they've seen their target client grow older and less eligible for Sports Illustrated swimsuit modeling. Rest assured: The staff of any reputable gym is trained to be (a) thrilled to see you, (b) uncanny at remembering your name, and (c) happy to suspend judgment on what you're doing or wearing, unless it's dangerous.

The clientele has mellowed out, too. Young folks look upon us older ones almost as peers, especially if we elders go out of our way to say hi. If you're uncertain about what you're doing, you're likely to find that there's an experienced hand, old or young, who will walk over and assist or make suggestions. You may also find a few group-class ambassadors like me, who make it a point to greet newcomers with reassurance. "It takes a few classes to get up to speed, so hang in there," I say. "The trick is not to get injured and to keep coming back."

That last part, the coming-back part, is key. Being there and becoming one of the gym's regulars is one of the best ways to ensure that your fitness plan doesn't become a flash in the pan. "Where have you been?" you'll be asked, if you miss more than a class or two. Knowing that the question will be asked and a good answer is expected, is what gets me gathering up my stuff and heading for the door at 11:45 many mornings. That, plus the sure knowledge that it always takes two classes to get me back into the shape I was in before I missed one. It seems to increase geometrically after that.

Well, here it is, 11:40. I had intended to skip my workout today, just to make sure I finished this article. But I'm done and my excuse is gone, so I'll head for the door. I know that if I don't go, Patti will probably see me at the wine bar again sometime soon and give me what-for. "Are you sure," she'll ask, ever so sweetly, "that you earned those Cabernet calories?"

Ellen Wojahn is a writer and editor based in the Pacific Northwest.

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