Man with a Mission!

When you hit middle age, however you want to define its span of years(I'm figuring, roughly, 45-65), there's a strong inclination to revisit old situations, old segments of one's life. To go back and do 'em again, maybe better- but certainly differently. The whole Second Time Around/Bucket List thing..I've seen a fair amount of folks hitting this age get their guitars out of storage and revive the bands they had 15-20 years ago. Others are back in the gym, using the muscles they used to have 15-20 years ago. 
   
    I'm one of those folks in the second category here(not that I had all that much muscle, but some- more than I started with at any rate). As a 20-something-year-old, I worked out with weights for a couple years, and am now resurrecting that practice as an almost 60-year-old. A much older(and thus less vital)me, but doing it all more intelligently. I'm about 6 weeks into an exercise program at a local gym, under the tutelage of one of their trainers. My trainer is, like me, named Roger, and is also the age I was when I worked out for the first time. Strangely enough. 

My first foray into all this was in 1978-79, in Baltimore, at the local YMCA. I was very skinny and very determined. To that end, I remember one of the characters in the weight room remarking, "Here he comes- man with a mission!" as I came in to do my workout.  It got a chuckle out of me. "Well, you're a nice pleasant fellow, professor!" What the hell. You have to be able to laugh at yourself, especially in an undertaking like this..

Baltimore was a friendly city when I lived there, and the Y was no exception. There was a nice camaraderie as far as the denizens of the weight room. None of the attitudes and Alpha Male posturing I feared would be there(although there was a "pose-down" in front of the mirror by two competitive friends--this was actually pretty funny, even though of course you wouldn't dare laugh!)Everyone was friendly, and helpful. And encouraging.  

One of the regulars was kind enough to write out a workout routine for me. He was a little squatty guy named Basil(pronounced BAZ-el)whose big weight room claim to fame was being 3rd Place Mr Virginia in 1958. What the hell. Those were credentials enough for me.

So Basil got me started with some basic exercises like the Bench Press, Squat, Barbell Curls, Military Presses and so forth. It was good. I got in fairly good shape. You're limited of course by your body frame and basic musculature, but I guess everyone has their anatomic pluses and minuses. I am a mesomorphic ectomorph, which means I'm a basically skinny-boned person who can put on muscle in a couple places. My upper arms, and back, and shoulders filled out nicely, while other parts kinda lagged behind. 

I have a Popeye the Sailor physique. At least those are the results I got back in the 70's. The current routine(s)work the body differently than good old Basil's(this kid who trains me has a slightly different routine for me every time, all of which he has stored on his phone--younger folks reading this would be saying, 'of course-how else?!', but it's still novel to us almost-geezers)and more attention is paid to the dietary side of it, so 2014(or maybe 2015)'s results may actually be better. 

If there's a mission to this current wave of activity, it's really to flatten a spare tire I've been carrying around for a good while now. A bad while. It's nice seeing the beginnings of results in other places(yes, the Popeye places: shoulders and arms), but nicest seeing the belly receding. That long-hated hula-hoop of blubber around my middle. My trainer tells me it's dropping off. I remind myself that it's not an overnight process. 

So we'll see. At least I'm on the path. Hard to say goodbye to some of my old carbohydrate buddies, but judging by my still protuberant middle, maybe they weren't my real friends after all.