Weights and treadmills won’t be every octogenarian’s cup of tea, but Liz Deegan’s 83-year-old mother has found a new lease of life working out at the gym.
It’s not often my mother surprises me. We talk most days and I like to think we’re pretty close. She knows what I’m doing, what I’m feeling, what I’m cooking and reading, and vice versa.
We share a mutual understanding of activities and attitudes — or so I thought.
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Who then was this woman on the other end of the phone several weeks ago who, in answer to an enquiry about her day pronounced, “I’ve joined the gym”.
The gym? What sort of gym? “How many sorts of gyms are there?” she replied. “A gym with weights and treadmills, of course.”
It took a few seconds to get my breath back. I appreciate this may not be so remarkable for many mothers, but mine is 83. It’s not exactly a common demographic for gym membership.
To be fair, she wasn’t a couch potato — there were weekly aquarobics sessions and regular walks — but a gym with steppers, cycles and circuit classes is in a totally different league.
“Have you actually been inside it, Mum?” I asked, hoping like hell she hadn’t been conned into a two-year contract by a 6pm call centre spruiker.
I should have given her more credit. Not only had she been inside, she’d done a trial class, met the instructor, made new friends, studied the timetable and committed herself to two sessions a week to begin with.
Sensibly though, she decided to only sign for three months, just to be sure she liked it. Oh, and she’d been to the local sports shop and bought her first pair of gym-suitable trainers. Seriously? Had we met?
A few weeks later and she was buying protein powder at the health food shop, rethinking her exercise wardrobe and discussing weight-lifting technique.
There’s even talk of going alone, not just doing the group classes. “I’m enjoying it, feeling quite good,” she tells me.
While I used to encourage Mum to do more, now it’s my exercise regimen under scrutiny and she’s the one gently urging me to get physical.
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Oh, and lose weight. I certainly didn’t see this coming. You see, 15 months ago, she lost her eldest daughter to melanoma. We didn’t see that coming, either.
The trauma of that sudden, savage death and the ensuing grief exacted a heavy toll. The light went out in Mum’s eyes and I wondered if we’d ever see it shine again. It will never fully return — how could it? — but at least now there’s a flicker of her old spirit and determination.
I’m still surprised, but even more proud.
Read more of this story in the October issue of The Australian Women’s Weekly.
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