Henrietta Hay's Column

I cannot believe I am doing this. Three mornings a week at 6:15 the alarm clock goes off with a mighty roar and I drag my unwilling body out of bed and into my old gray sweats. After a glass of orange juice and a bowl of (ugh) oatmeal, I head down the highway to that professional torture chamber otherwise known as a gym/athletic club/health club/fitness rehab center.

I am, believe it or not, working out-- working out as in weights and machines. I really feel pretty silly, with my white hair and southward bound body, working away on my triceps and biceps and lats and quads and all the other long forgotten parts of my anatomy. It's too late for the pecs. After much prodding (nagging is more like it) from my physical fitness friends, I decided to try it and I'm growing muscles where muscles haven't been for years. My friend the philosopher swears that when I flex my biceps there is muscle there and not just bone.

To be quite honest, after two months I find myself looking forward to these mornings of activity and enjoying them after I get there. I had thought of "working out" as a somewhat esoteric activity indulged in mostly by jocks with bulging muscles and young things with lithe, hard bodies. Not so. It's for everybody.

I have met people of both sexes and all ages and all degrees of physical fitness. Even the young ones who are already in shape and exercising to stay that way are quite friendly and seem to see nothing surprising about having a little old lady in their midst. There is a certain feeling of camaraderie, since we all have one thing in common - pain. I watch with awe as big men and tiny women lift weights that I would merely sit down on. They all assure me that I will be doing the same thing in five years or so. There are a lot of comics out there too!

There are as many reasons for being there as there are people. Many are rehabilitating muscles that have been injured in some way. Athletes are in training for their sports. Most are there simply because they want to maintain or increase their physical strength and they feel better when they do it.

One group that is comparatively new to the gym scene consists of the aging. We're all aging, but some of us have doing it longer. It has been found that many changes which we assume are part of the aging process are really due to neglect and abuse. So at 80 I figure it's time to get out of the rocking chair and make up for lost time, or, as the kids would say, "Use it or lose it."

Dr. Alex Leif, Harvard Medical School says, "Exercise is the closest thing to an anti-aging pill there is. Regular daily physical activity has been a way of life for virtually every person who has reached the age of 100 in a sound condition."

Barring disease, the prescription for physical decline with age is exercise. Dr. Evans, of Tufts University says, "a weight lifting regimen increases muscle function in oldsters by 200 to 300 percent...We can make a 95 year-old as strong as a 50 year-old person." Wow, look what I have to look forward to.

I am not even the oldest person in my particular torture chamber. I am told that there is one woman of 95 who exercises there. Power and long life to her.

One woman who exercises regularly tells me of a friend of hers (undoubtedly young) who has a unique reason for working out. She claims that exercise has increased her bra size. I haven't verified that one.

One woman in my general age range started going for a very specific reason. She loves to bake, and was having trouble heaving her bread dough around and lifting the bowl. Now her shoulder muscles are stronger and she is back to baking with the best of them.

My two sons are pleased, but not especially impressed. They say, "OK, but how come you waited so long?" So ring on, alarm clock. What do I have to lose except sleep?