Much to my children’s dismay, my wife and I have become gym rats. It started with my wife. She had been taking a yoga class now and then to relieve stress and counter the lethargy of sitting at a desk all day. In mid-2018, she got serious, joined a small local gym, and began working out four nights a week. In January 2019, she decided we’d join the YMCA. 

At first, I thought that the Y membership was a waste of money because I did not think we would use it. I had not planned on working out, but one Saturday in February 2019, my wife signed up for a yoga class and I decided to walk the indoor track while she did her yoga-thing. While walking laps, I was trying to figure out how I could incorporate regular workouts into my work schedule. I had two constraints: 1) having to work and 2) picking up my daughter after school.  

I did the math: I start work at 6:00, the Y is only a 5 to 10-minute drive from my office, so I could get in a 45-60-minute workout and be able to pick up my daughter.  And with that I had a plan: I had hit the Y on Saturday or Sunday mornings, and three or four days during the week after work. 

To my surprise, I implemented that humble plan and began to dutifully walk and walk and walk. In May 2019, the Y moved two rowing machines near the indoor track, so I added rowing to my workout. Since then, my routine has evolved as I added upper body weight training and running (slow lumbering may be a better description) into the mix.

To date, things are going well. I continue to work out at the Y four days a week for about 45 minutes. On the days I am not at the Y, I try to walk or run for a half hour around my neighborhood. I have lost a good amount of weight and have kept it off. My love handles are not as handy, and my man-boobs are not as jiggly as before. I doubt I will ever have six-pack abs because I do not want to do that many sit-ups.

My kids are trying to come to terms with my workouts. They are okay when I am looking “foolish” at the Y since there is no one there to connect me with them, but they cringe when I take it to our neighborhood. My youngest saw me running and was joking to my wife about the old man stumbling around until she realized I was the “old man.”  I can live with that. Besides, I am pretty sure I am legally obligated to embarrass my teenage daughters on a regular basis.