One of the many things that I love about my community centre gym is the people who frequent it. Most members are baby boomers and come outfitted in leggings and an old t-shirt. They are smiling, engaged and game. There is such a positive energy in the changing room as women walk around naked talking film, food, politics and where to buy decent pierogies. Middles wobble, so do bottoms and boobs. These bodies have birthed babies, endured menopause, and survived health scares a plenty. They are here for the conversation, the camaraderie, the restaurant reviews, routine. Strength and flexibility are fortunate bi-products. This morning I did a yoga class, (it was more of a supervised nap) and watched in admiration as several older participants stretched their geriatric limbs into a bridge. “It doesn’t matter how slow you go, as long as you don’t stop.” As someone who moves through the world at a clip, today’s class reminded me how wonderful it feels to surrender to an activity that asks you to really tune into your breath, and to become aware of body parts that we rarely think about. Our ankles. Our toes. Our jaw. There is great value, and longevity, in slow placed, consistent movement, and surrounding oneself with positive people, who aren’t competing with you, or showing off. Many are just grateful to be alive. One day, I hope to go back to running marathons. It’s also a dream of mind to do an epic climb. But for now, while my children are small, and my days are bonkers busy, I’m okay leaning into a flutter board or a comfy bolster. The people at my community centre didn’t start going to the gym at 55. it’s a lifelong thing.
