11/04/2022
By Kate Stone Lombardi
In the early 1980s, I regularly went to an aerobics class at the YMCA in Manhattan. It was taught by a member of the music group “The Village People” (the one who wore the Native American headdress, if you must know). The class always ended with a spirited version of their hit “YMCA” and we jumped up and down, shouting and forming the letters with our arms.
Well, that was almost 40 years ago, but I was thinking about it this morning when I was at a different gym doing a low-impact weight workout. This workout is no joke, by the way – squats and planks and mountain climbers. Ouch.
Anyway, I was pondering the different reasons I’ve worked out over the decades. Sure, sure – we all know it’s healthy to work out – good for your heart, lungs, etc. But that wasn’t why I started.
Initially, it was all about losing weight. Later in my twenties and early thirties, it was about reclaiming my body from multiple pregnancies. In my 40s and 50s it was about feeling strong and empowered.
But now I have another very specific motivation – my 2-year-old, 25 pound granddaughter. I mean, when she outstretches her arms and says, “Up please, Grandma!” am I supposed to say, “Gee, I’d like to pick you up, but Grandma will feel it in her lower back later, so I better not.” Then there’s the opposite scenario of “up,” which, of course, is “Down please, Grandma.” That’s when she wants to play with me on the floor. Grandma would like to refrain from too many grunts and moans when she attempts to get back up again.
This morning’s class was taught by a very young woman who played what I would describe not so much as music but more assault noise. When I hear, “Let’s keep those bodies bathing-suit ready, Ladies,” I just inwardly role my eyes. That use to matter to me too. And don’t get me wrong – vanity still partly motivates those trips to the gym. But the bigger prize is being able to lift you-know-who.