When I was growing up, I saw my mom doing cardio and doing some weight training with the machines at the gym. She was pretty strong compared to my friends’ mothers but her time in the gym was short-lived. I don’t know why she stopped. I often wonder if someone told her that she would look like a man if she kept it up. Sadly, she has not aged gracefully. Although she rides her peloton regularly, osteoporosis, arthritis and other degenerative disorders have gotten the best of her.
Over the past several years, my strength training has evolved from mostly using the machines, which allow my muscle imbalances to increase, to using the free weights for the bulk of my workouts. I no longer worry about my muscles getting too big, nor do I have to wait for a man to help me carry the heavy stuff into the house.
Now, I currently have a 40 lb. bag of dogfood in the garage that I have lazily left there instead of bringing inside and pouring into the near-empty dogfood bin. Feel free to cast your VOTE on if I will ask my youngest to do the job or if I will end up doing it myself.
To be perfectly honest, my back has been sore this week after helping my son move. Now, when I say “help,” I mean take the other end of the heavy couch, picking it up, PIVOTing it to get through the doorway, carrying it down the steps and to the u-haul moving truck, lifting it up to the truck bed, helping push it into place like a puzzle piece…then repeating the process for the rest of the furniture. By the time we filled the u-haul, both my son and my backs were trash. And that was just the beginning.
His new apartment was on the 3rd floor a with narrow staircase equipped with extra turns. I suggested going to the local Home Depot to enlist the help of some random men looking for work. These men complained as the first load was being carried up the stairs. “Too heavy” they said, and “too far” they complained. My son and I had already carried up the heavy boxes and slightly smaller-than-furniture items and were still continuing our efforts.
*sigh*
My son told the men that they would only be paid if they carried more than him. He also let them know that he and his mom [pointing at little ol’ me] had loaded the truck all by ourselves. I smiled shyly – but proudly – praying they wouldn’t quit on us. Thankfully, they kept going.
That was Monday – when the bulk of the moving was done. But the process of moving out of a condo, in which he occupied 2 of the 3 bedrooms (room and office), into a 1 bedroom apartment took most of the week. I continued to help out when I could. This included cleaning and painting. I honestly do not think that the younger me could’ve been as much help. I’m pretty proud myself for choosing to work on my ability to lift heavy sh!t. Hopefully, this habit will help me to age more gracefully than my mother.
Now, I am recovering.
