I made a decision.
A grown-up decision.
A responsible, health-oriented decision.
I decided to join the gym.
Let me be very clear about something.
I hate the gym.
The gym and I have a long-standing policy: mutual avoidance.
At best, we coexist on the same planet.
I am a 4’10”, short, round, senior woman.
I do not look like the gym loves me.
I do not look like I love the gym.
But this is the Third Act.
And in the Third Act, apparently,
we make mature decisions like this.
So I went to the “No Judgment” gym.
Have you ever been there?
Because I can assure you—
people are judging.
Okay, fine.
It was me.
I am people.
That said, there were quite a few seniors there, which helped.
There were also quite a few young people.
And while I was not judging
(I was absolutely observing),
I noticed something important:
The young people were in far better physical shape.
But the seniors?
They were having way more fun.
They talked to each other.
About working out.
About hating it.
About the weather.
Possibly about grandchildren, medications,
and who had knee surgery last year.
I didn’t catch everything,
but I feel confident in those topics.
I also noticed something else.
People with very real physical challenges
still showing up.
Still moving.
Still trying.
Not to impress anyone.
Just… showing up.
And I found myself unexpectedly inspired by that.
My first visit?
Fifteen minutes on the treadmill.
I went home like I had metaled in an Olympic event
and should be met with applause and possibly snacks.
Now?
I’ve advanced.
Fifteen minutes on the recumbent elliptical.
Fifteen minutes on the recumbent bike.
That is a full thirty minutes
of mild suffering
and excellent people-watching.
I plan to add more.
Machines.
Maybe even weights.
Eventually.
Right now, the lingering effects of chemo
are still living rent-free in my muscles and back.
So we are… negotiating.
Here’s the truth:
I am slow.
I sweat a lot.
I have absolutely no speed on any machine.
And no one has spoken to me yet.
I’,m shocked too. Honestly.
To be fair, I don’t always look like someone you should approach.
But still.
But here’s the part I didn’t expect:
It’s helping.
I feel a little stronger.
A little steadier.
A little more like myself again.
So despite everything—
my official Third Act recommendation is this:
Just do it.
(I feel like I’ve heard that somewhere before…)
Slowly.
Reluctantly.
Judging quietly.
But do it anyway.
Because sometimes showing up is the win.
-Pattie
Third Act With Pattie 