I think it was about the time when I reached the forty-year-mark that my better half started to nag me out of the house early every day for a morning walk. Up to then, I had considered morning walks to be something for the elderly, and as far as more youthful folks were concerned, my view was that only those with not much of a nightlife got up early for a ritual morning walk. Well, my spouse didn’t think so, she must have read somewhere about the ravages middle age could do if matters of health and fitness were left unattended, and so, with the coming of the dawn I would be off to measure the streets.
At first, these early morning jaunts were short, and I would be back within, at the most, an hour or so, but as the days progressed, I began to enjoy my walks, with the result that I was out of the house for a pretty long time, and walking distances that had previously been undreamed of. Besides the feeling of good health and wellbeing I was experiencing, I had discovered another interesting aspect of my now absolutely refreshing morning walks; I was enjoying the happiness of exploring new streets, new alleys, and many interesting short cuts.
Soon enough, I found myself so invigorated that morning walks alone was not enough to satiate my craving for exercise, so I joined a health club. As it turned out, I managed to choose one that had mostly females as its clients, so you can imagine, I felt much blessed, and to top it all, it was my better half who was ultimately responsible for pushing me into this new realm of joyful endeavor. Because of all the walking I did now, there wasn’t much warm-up needed, thus it was straight off to the weights and the machines. The club played an u[beat selection of music through an excellent sound system, and the atmosphere was a most lively one, to say the least, and made all the livelier with the ladies sweating it out here, there, and everywhere.
I noticed straight off that a few who were on the chubbier side wouldn’t be making it to the svelte category anytime soon, but most of the others looked pretty fit and fine. It goes without saying that their outfits gave them a distinct advantage in showing off the curves, and I tell you, I caught myself ogling quite a few times! Anyway, another advantage of their gracious presence was the motivation that flooded my being, with the result that, soon enough, I was lifting weights previously undreamed of.
As you can guess, my time in the club began to become lengthier and lengthier with every passing day, and as you can imagine, this meant that I was doing a previously undreamed number of routines with the weights and at the machines. In due time, the belly that I had so carefully cultivated over the years began to recede, and I tell you, I actually began to dream of developing a pack, washboard waist, et al. Those were tremendously joyful days, especially since I was in a job that gave me plenty of free time, a substantial part of which I spent at the club.
By and by, I started looking like a twenty-year-old, the glow on my face enduring, the T-shirts I regularly wore now accentuating my compact waist, manly chest, and bulging biceps. I tell you, I was in the throes of everlasting youthfulness! The ladies at the club began to give me more come-hither-looks, and the really fit guys became more comradely. But, all good things have to come to an end, as they say, and came the time when I had to go live in another city due to new work-related responsibilities. However, I took along a brand new me, a more youthful me, when I did, and I hope I left behind a few misty-eyed ladies at my hereto mecca of good health and good vibes, where it was, indeed, time very well spent.