I was getting my workout on the stationary bike at the Y this week. The bike is set up behind four treadmills. No one was there when I first arrived. Pretty soon though, an older man came in and tried one treadmill and then the next, unable to get the screens to load so he could begin his walk. I heard him mumble some expletive as he carefully stepped off the second treadmill, holding on to balance his aging body. He was frustrated as he made his way to the third treadmill and finally started his walk.
Soon after that a young girl came in and easily started walking on one of the treadmills he was unable to start. Just as he completed his walk and was once again carefully dismounting and holding on to balance, a second young girl came in. He had stepped between his treadmill and the one she wanted to use. She asked him gently if he was using the treadmill she had chosen. He walked away, seeming to me disappointed in himself, without acknowledging the girl. She inserted her earbuds and began her workout. The man left the room.
I thought I would catch up with him in the weight room across the hall. We had a meaningful conversation the week before. I knew from our previous conversation he used to teach spin classes. He still plays pickleball. He doesn’t understand why older folks don’t stretch more before they workout. And he knows his balance is not great so he works with weights to strengthen his core.
He wasn’t in the weight room. I guess he left the building. Sigh. I was hoping I could connect with him. I wanted to have a lighthearted moment with him. I wanted him to see me seeing him as a whole human. For him to feel that, even in his aging body.
This experience is a reminder to me of how important it is to really see the other person. Their wholeness, even when their body is old and out of balance. Maybe even especially then.
Humble
Paula
