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The seniors take over the gym

Senior-FitnessWe call ourselves the old people.

We are gym members between the ages of 55 and 75 who show up every morning at Planet Fitness to work out and gab. We are all very different people. We are white and black, blue and red, male and female.

The only things we have in common are ailments.

If you put our medical records together we’ve had hip and knee replacements, heart attacks, diabetes, strokes, high blood pressure and Vertigo. But we keep on ticking and hope the exercise improves our health. We worry about one another so much that if somebody doesn’t show up for three days we fear the worst and give that person a phone call.

“Have you seen Bill,’ someone asked last week.

“Oh he is in Arizona playing golf,” someone else replied.

“Oh thank God. I thought he was dead.”

Sometimes we get together for dinner. A few weeks ago eight of us ate dinner at a place that turns into a dance club at 9 o’clock. We were all out of there by 8:30. No one wanted to be called grand pa or geezer.

The old men crack me up. Sometimes they believe the cute 25 year old in Lulu Lemon tights is looking past all the 25 year old pumped up studs at their wrinkled 60 year old ass.

“I think that cutie is checking me out,” one of the old people said.

I spoiled the day for him.

“Yeah she is looking over here, but you must have missed the “when are these old farts going to get off the weight machine so I can use it” look.”

A woman did ask for my phone number. However, I spent the next two weeks trying to figure out if she wore false teeth. Obviously she was not one of the young cuties I was talking about.

We are the cool old people. There are other groups of old people we don’t associate with. For instance, watch out when you enter the men’s locker room. You might walk in on a 70 year old who is running a hair drying between his legs to dry off his balls after a shower.

How sick. Don’t they have towels for that?

Women complain about other old people that stare at their breasts while working out. I swear I am not one of those people. I am a leg and butt man.

There is an old guy that wears short shorts and when he stretches his private parts burst loose and his duffle bags are squeezed against the floor. I am reporting this guy next time.

A month ago I visited my friend Larry Bird in the hospital after he had knee replacement surgery.

He got misty eyed and said: “Thank you for visiting. I feel kind of special.”

You are special. Besides I knew the surgery would keep you out of the gym for more than three days and I had to tell the other old people that you were not dead.

 

 

 

 

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Old people hit the town in different ways now

seniors.jpgWe are nicknamed “The Old People” simply because we are old.

We are a group of men and women aged 55-75 at Planet Fitness who work out every morning between sessions of gabbing and complaining about ailments, surgeries and doctors appointments.

They are my people and we are going out tonight for dinner at Uptown Grill in Commerce Township. We might even stick around for when the young people take over the dance floor. But we will mostly smile and watch, wishing we were in our 20s again.

I like the old people because we can talk and not argue with each other. We have Trumpers in the mix along with people who wished Obama could have had a third term. We have Jews and Gentiles, men and women, blacks and whites, conservatives and liberals and every view in between.

The Old people have had heart surgeries, strokes, knee replacements and hip replacements. I complained about having to take a steroid shot for a sore right shoulder, thinking my pain was something special.

About half of the old people threw their hands up in the air and said: “I’ve had one of those.”

It is tough getting old. If you have not had an ailment, you are about to. But we are trying to delay further attacks on our bodies. That is why we are in the gym and eating healthy meals.

We do more than work out trying to stay healthy. It has become a fellowship. We all look forward to our 60-90 minutes each morning on the tread mill, stair master and by the weight machines.

Back in the day I would guarantee that I would dance with one of the cuties at Uptown. But here is what’s likely to happen tonight. A cutie will approach me and say: “Mr. Foster. My dad loves you.”

And if I’ve had enough beers I might reply: “Do you love me?”

Cutie: “No. The only love you get from my family is from my dad.”

Oh well.

 

 

 

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