As you may recall, I began lifting weights at the end of August, 2010. In November, I saw that I might survive and let you in on the news.

Twice a week, I managed to lift despite my bearing no resemblance at all to the other folks in the weight room.

Sure there’s the occasional, O.K. maybe more than occasional, look that seems to say, “Who let my grandmama in here?” I’ve learned to ignore them.

I was using a machine after I adjusted it from the 200 lbs that a guy who could obviously lift a small house had lifted. He and his friend were about six feet from me, so I overheard them discussing their progress.

“Yeah, but I’m the oldest one in here,” he told his friend.

“Really?” I said. Hey, surely I was beginning to blend in with the crowd.

“Well, except for you,” he nearly scoffed, as if I were a non-person.

I’ll tell you I thought I might have a spell right there. A non-person?! The very idea! Yeah, I know that he wasn’t talking to me, and I shouldn’t have joined the conversation. Maybe that density that I’m trying to build has begun in my brain.

Now that we’re into summer, the attendees are very different. I see more faculty and staff members in the gym. Brian Blackley is a welcome sight because he’s from my department and makes me feel good about being in a weight room.

A woman whose name I don’t know is also lifting. She took a weightlifting class and is continuing her training. Sounds more logical than my method, doesn’t it?

Two weeks ago, I met two men in the weight room: one preparing for two knee replacements and one trying to avoid having a knee replacement. Aha! Finally I’ve met someone that I can easily out-lift.

Don’t think for a minute that summer is just faculty and staff. No, we also have the super-human student lifters.

One Tuesday afternoon, Brian and I were in the weight room when a traditional-aged student came in carrying a wide leather belt that had a chain the size of a logging chain on it. He went around to the other end of the room, and I didn’t think too much about it. Why? I don’t know. At the least I should have wondered whether he would keep the thing to himself or why he had it.

I worked my way around the room using the five machines that I thought I could survive. See how much I’ve grown in my abilities? I used only three in the beginning. Nothing prepared me for what I saw when I began using the leg-lifting machine.

The student was across and down a few feet from me. He was wearing the belt. The chain was extended between his legs and was attached to a weight that was about the size of a Smart car. He was doing pull-ups! Pull-ups, I say, with a Smart car equivalent hanging on him. Surely he’s a descendant of Hercules.

Needless to say, I was stunned. I moved around to the tricep machine near Brian.

“What in the world is that?” I asked.

“I know, I’ve seen it before,” he said.

Genuinely awed by the sight, I decided that if he could lift a small car, I had hit upon the day to try the crunch machine in the recreation center, another of the three buildings that make up the Carmichael complex. My students had told me that it strengthened your core. Core? Apples have cores; do I? Not much of one, I was soon to learn.

The devil machine is on the third floor. A student employee was wiping it with cleaner.

“Excuse me, could you show me how this machine works?” I asked.

“Well, you sit here,” he said, placing his hand on the seat of the comfortable looking chair. “You put your ankles behind this padded bar. Then you pull these handles so that you lean forward. I’d start with the least weight if I were you.”

Really, I thought, I certainly lift more than that in the other building. Not knowing if he was responding to my hair color or if the advice would apply to any novice, I thought I’d let him in on my experience.

“I’ve been lifting in the weight room since last fall,” I said.

“I’d still start with ten pounds. This machine’s kind of tricky.”

“I trust your judgment. Thank you,” I answered.

Folks, let me tell you that his advice was good. I set that machine on ten pounds and followed Matt’s advice from last fall by doing only two sets of ten repetitions.

The aforementioned trick is that our natural tendency is to try to lean back in the chair; pulling forward while leaning backward is very foolish indeed. The oh so inviting chair aimed to kill me. The pulling was hard, but I managed the two sets and the walk to the car. Lying down and rolling seemed a bit undignified.

The next day was Wednesday, and I had to conduct choir rehearsal. I tried to lift my arms, and thought I might not make it.

“I’m sorry,” I told the choir. Thank goodness these people are very understanding after our spending nearly eighteen years together.

“I tried this new machine at the gym, and it hates me. I can’t stand, I can’t sit, and I think I’m gonna die. Lifting my arms hurts nearly as badly as putting them back down, but I will win,” I said.

After rehearsal, Jeff, my friend and accompanist, told me about particular stretches that help after lifting. I began using a stretching frame. It allows users to stretch so that they won’t hurt the next day.

I’m up to thirty pounds now on that machine. No one would confuse me with a power lifter, but that’s all right. I just want to be able to make my way to the car upright and not to drop dead in the weight room. The clean-up would be so messy, don’t you know?