People Rich

Today I worked out with my future, or at least what I hope my future to be. So let me explain. We joined a wellness center a few weeks ago and I go all by myself sometimes.  (Someone reading that is cheering for me. I know you are.)

I know what you are thinking, especially if you Crossfit. I realize we have a fully functioning Crossfit garage gym.  It's just this. I came to the realization that I desire to do WODs by myself. You know, drop it like its hot. So my husband and I decided it was more safe for me to go and work out with the geriatric group at the wellness center than lie face down knocked out by something I tried. The last place the EMS folks would look would be the garage, and so I would lie there, out cold, blood streaming from my head, which I whacked on the iron cage as I fell from pull ups. (Save the drama for yer mama.)

Also we like to do family swims and kids classes, etc. We like to move it. (I like to move it move it.) I keep telling my husband that 2014 is his breakout year. I know he's a few years older than a traditional baseball breakout year- whatever dude. This is the year he's swimming in a speedo. He's putting it on and we will swim. (I feel his foot traveling all the way through this computer from his place of work to squash my plan.  Hey, just saying all the men wear speedos there.  Dress the part, yo.)

You see there are these groups of delightful older folks that workout there. Men that strut their stuff in their speedos. (I want to say, yes, you have done a good job at keeping that rear tight and high, but friend, prancing like a gorilla is just a bit much.) Sweet little women that just smile and workout together. All shapes and sizes but perhaps determined to stay out of a nursing home? I'd say they've done it.

And so I count myself blessed working out alongside them. These older folks, they know what's up. I want to go hug all these sweet ladies and tell them I think they are great but I hold back.  That even though they are well-passed retirement age they still come to work out. Daily. Social hour. (I have spoken about naked social hour afterwards- so much nakedness…my motherboard in my head is currently deleting the post workout locker room scenes.)  

Today I overheard one lady say to another how hard it is to loose weight the older you get.  She was doing Weight Watchers and had lost 7 pounds.  (I wanted to hug her but we were in the hot tub.  And officially I was not in this conversation.  So I regress…)

Like the elderly lady who started rowing on the machine that faced mine.  I smiled at her when she finished and said, "Great workout." (because I sometimes ignore the teachings of my parents- I always talk to strangers.)  Then she started talking.  I realized I was not dealing with a native speaker.  Many of you don't know I speak ESL- yes- it's a language program but it's also a patient, slow, enunciating form of speech that I am fairly good at.  So I was listening to her in one ear, while the other ear "apple bottom jeans" was playing, all while rowing.  My 5,000m row made her say something, of which I responded, "good job".  Who knows.  I fall back on "A smile means the same in every language."  I watched her leave in her Camry smiling.  (Because when you row for that long, you find anything you possibly can to watch).  Precious lady.

Some of my new found heroes work out alongside me during these morning visits.  The older man with the prosthetic leg who walked with a limp and a cane.  He walked around that track steady, consistent, slowly, for 30 minutes.  (I timed him.  Bad habit of mine.  But that man was determined and I love him for it.)  

I suppose I'm curious of their stories. Their backgrounds filling novels. Heartache. Pain. Delight. Regret. Joy. I feel the discrimination of older folks. I know it happens. Sometimes, I think we are missing out on richness.

Our kids studied about Martin Luther King Jr. last week.  We reminded ourselves of how significant that was and it's impact today.  My dad held the door for him in Memphis in the 1960's before one of his speeches to a mass audience.

I explained to the girls about segregation. They can't comprehend it. My mom taught in a segregated school and semi-retired a few years ago. She lived this history- both sides of this story. 

People make history alive. I have slim chances of winning the lottery, but I am people rich. 

I value a good story. The redemptive story of the Bible- how God wove Jesus throughout the Old and New Testament, as a Rescuer. The story of the world. The beginning, the middle and the ending.

I am a part of this bigger picture. I feel it. My insignificant position here on earth is one touched by God himself, making my time here valuable. Treasured. Counted. Passing. Glorious.   

I'll continue surrounding myself with people, especially those older ones.  (Extra credit if they're spicy.)  For certain I'm only getting richer.