I sat at one of the local watering holes on June 5th having my usual, a Boulevard Brewing Company dark lager named 1554.
A friend approached, patted my slight beer belly (I've had success trimming it for nearly two years and dropped from 255 to 225), and said, "Let me help you get rid of that."
"What do you have in mind?" I asked.
"Come to my place at 9:30 tomorrow morning, and we'll get started," Tom said.
I did, and we did.
Now Tom is known to be a national champion weight lifter for his weight and age, but I had no clue he had a full-blown gym up here on the mountain.
He gave me a series of flexibility and stretching exercises to start with just to get me warmed up. Then he transitioned to lifts on a variety of pieces of equipment. He told me to also do the warm-up exercises on the off days and plan to meet him at the gym every Monday, Wednesday and Friday for the lifting.
I haven't missed a day, and Tom has had me progress with more weights on each piece of gear. I'm not trying to be Mr. Atlas, but rather I'm aiming for fitness and strength that will allow me to continue living on this mountain for a long, long time.
Yesterday, Tom's wife Buellah (yes, it's spelled correctly) told me I'm the first of all the folks Tom has tried to help who stuck with it. "I didn't start so I could learn how to quit," I told her. I added that I feel better than I've ever felt and have better balance than I've ever known. Buellah is also a national champ in her age and weight class. I call her the "form gestapo" because she won't allow my hands to be off by a quarter of an inch when I grab a bar or handle -- it's all for my own safety. Tom and Buellah and I have become far better friends than we've been in the past 10 years -- an added and unexpected bonus.
Another friend asked, "Do you know what it would cost you to go to a gym and get this knowledge?"
"Yes." I had checked into a gym and personal trainer last spring. About $465/month. Tom won't take a nickel.
I've done hours of research to figure out a diet that will allow me to progress in my lifting abilities (I used to pay no attention to what I shoved in the pie hole). Now, it matters.
Having recently turned 66 I do feel better than I have for a few decades.
I encourage anyone who's healthy enough to start a fitness training program to begin now.
Oh, yeah, I should mention that Tom is 5', 111 lbs, and 81 years old. Buellah is 78. They both still put me to shame with the weights they lift. Tom says I'll pass him this year. We'll see. I'm 6'4" and 225, and I'm not competing with anyone except me!
Slàinte mhòr! (Scots Gaelic: "To your very good health")
A friend approached, patted my slight beer belly (I've had success trimming it for nearly two years and dropped from 255 to 225), and said, "Let me help you get rid of that."
"What do you have in mind?" I asked.
"Come to my place at 9:30 tomorrow morning, and we'll get started," Tom said.
I did, and we did.
Now Tom is known to be a national champion weight lifter for his weight and age, but I had no clue he had a full-blown gym up here on the mountain.
He gave me a series of flexibility and stretching exercises to start with just to get me warmed up. Then he transitioned to lifts on a variety of pieces of equipment. He told me to also do the warm-up exercises on the off days and plan to meet him at the gym every Monday, Wednesday and Friday for the lifting.
I haven't missed a day, and Tom has had me progress with more weights on each piece of gear. I'm not trying to be Mr. Atlas, but rather I'm aiming for fitness and strength that will allow me to continue living on this mountain for a long, long time.
Yesterday, Tom's wife Buellah (yes, it's spelled correctly) told me I'm the first of all the folks Tom has tried to help who stuck with it. "I didn't start so I could learn how to quit," I told her. I added that I feel better than I've ever felt and have better balance than I've ever known. Buellah is also a national champ in her age and weight class. I call her the "form gestapo" because she won't allow my hands to be off by a quarter of an inch when I grab a bar or handle -- it's all for my own safety. Tom and Buellah and I have become far better friends than we've been in the past 10 years -- an added and unexpected bonus.
Another friend asked, "Do you know what it would cost you to go to a gym and get this knowledge?"
"Yes." I had checked into a gym and personal trainer last spring. About $465/month. Tom won't take a nickel.
I've done hours of research to figure out a diet that will allow me to progress in my lifting abilities (I used to pay no attention to what I shoved in the pie hole). Now, it matters.
Having recently turned 66 I do feel better than I have for a few decades.
I encourage anyone who's healthy enough to start a fitness training program to begin now.
Oh, yeah, I should mention that Tom is 5', 111 lbs, and 81 years old. Buellah is 78. They both still put me to shame with the weights they lift. Tom says I'll pass him this year. We'll see. I'm 6'4" and 225, and I'm not competing with anyone except me!
Slàinte mhòr! (Scots Gaelic: "To your very good health")
