gym | Diary of an Adventurous Retiree

Before I left for Struisbaai my Personal Torturer and I parted company with a final workout for the holidays. “I won’t be seeing you for some weeks so I’ll leave you something to remember me by,” he said and proceeded to work my ass off with a an excessive work out! I promised to keep up the training as much as possible on my own – but how to do that. In the not so distant past, before I hurt my back, my exercise of choice was doing a brisk 5 to 8 km run – no travelling to a gym, no-one telling you what to do and very little brain power involved. In fact a productive way to chill out and gather your thoughts away from the dependants nagging for your attention. How many years ago now since I actually did a run? At least 4.

Waking to a perfect day today I just had that urge to get out on the beach and what better place than to resume the running ritual again. I had doubts that I would be able to do 5km but – so what – I would see how far I could get. I donned my bathing costume and short, drove to the beach so that I didn’t have to wear takkies and set off barefoot down the longest beach in Africa! The tide was going out and the beach mud was cool and firm beneath my feet, a gentle sea-breeze blew from across my face and the sea wooshed loudly in my ears. After five minutes I was right back in that old rhythm – slowly at first and then I lengthened my stride and I am sure was almost up to my former pace – and I just kept going – the muscles certainly have a memory. My intention was to try and make it to the signboard with the Big B on it – (a marker for the fishing boats to line up to, I think) which is about 2.5km down the beach and then to walk back. But I was feeling good so turned around and continued running. This kind of endurance exercise is not what I have been doing for the past several years – its been more interval and strength training – far more challenging than running I can assure you – and all the stationery cycling, skipping and jumping burpies most have kept my aerobic fitness up because I managed the run with ease. The best part was stripping off my shorts and throwing myself into the cooling waves when I got back. The water was deliciously refreshing – not at all cold! Frolicking in the southern most waves is a great reward after a beautiful run in the morning sunshine.

Yes – I am back – I will be beach running for the rest of the holidays and perhaps get back on the road when I get home.

I am supposed to be doing my kettle bell training too – but didn’t get round to that today – definitely tomorryow!

Lolz was still in bed when I got back. I did the household chores then roused her to come with me to Agulhas. We had coffee and muffins at Potpourri – browsed round the gift shop then drove back home again. Lolz lay and tanned – but I just can’t do that any more so I sat in the shade and did a Sudoku – a brutal one which I finally vanquished.

Me at Potpourri

Agulhas Lighthouse

Lolz at the entrance of Potpourri

Lolz waiting for muffins

Earl and Greg had been out at sea since some immorally early hour and had returned just before we left. They brought back a lovely catch of red fish – lunch!

He catches, cleans and cooks it.

From the sea into the frying pan

Greg and Lolz enjoying fresh fried fish

Not so long ago, when I was a sweet young thing, I thought 60 was old. All the 60 year-olds I knew complained of sore knees, backs and shoulders. They discussed their ailments and operations at every social gathering and groaned when they got up from a sitting or lying position. They all had grey hair, were pleasantly plump and seemed content that the end of their days were drawing nigh. Conversations with them were always interesting as they reminisced about the ‘good old days’ None of them jogged, rode bicycles or went to gym. Few worked, all had grandchildren and nobody’s kids still lived at home.

I think that somewhere along the line I’ve lost count of the years. I know that I’m turning 60 tomorrow because I was born in 1952 – but how did 1992 to 2012 flash by so quickly? I till feel like I’m 40 and I think still live my life like a 40 year old.

I should start acting my age – but instead what do I do? Kicking and screaming I drag myself off to a personal trainer twice a week. The idea is to keep my back from caving in and ensuring the joints and muscles don’t seize up. Gentle exercise is what I expected. It all started innocently enough and was nothing like the variety of activities that I’d tried before – from Jane Fonda aerobics and feeling the burn to gym circuits, cycling and jogging. None of these hectic activities can compare to what I put myself through now with a personal trainer who has worked miracles with me – no more back pain, no aches in my joints – which is why I keep going. But really isn’t it a little inelegant for a girl my age to be hanging upside down on unstable rings, doing pikes on a stability ball and playing slam dunk with a ball that doesn’t bounce. Should I be skipping rope like a 7 year-old, exhausting myself doing burpies and straining my aging brain with manoeuvres that require a dancer’s co-ordination?

How inelegant is this

Is this even safe?

I’m being brainwashed that it is all good for me. All this exercise – as weird as it is and honestly I never know what crazy thing I’m going to be required to do next – is supposed to prevent Alzheimer’s, increase bone density and prevent all sort of other things that make you old.

Well maybe it is working because once a young man – a very young man – said he couldn’t believe I was older than his mother. “You have a personal trainer, don’t you?” he guessed.

So tomorrow I will proudly turn 60, grateful that I still have the energy to help raise a family, have a career that I love and indulge in my outdoor passions.

Thanks to my excellent hairdresser for preventing my hair from revealing my true age, my personal trainer for keeping me fit and my family and friends for giving me emotional stability because really its that, which really keeps me feeling young.