In Which I Forget Not to Judge a Book By Its Cover...

I took about half a year off from the gym, and getting back into the routine has been difficult.

Today I was circuit training.
For those of you who avoid the gym and the mere mention of exercise of any sort, this is when you work out using a circle of various upper and lower body weight machines designed to help you burn fat. At this particular gym, there is an automated voice that tells you when to stop, switch machines, how to breathe, and when to go to the bathroom.
Okay, so I made that last part up.

I usually try to follow the voice a little bit, but on certain lower body machines I take a little extra time if there's no one in line (or circle) behind me, because those are my target areas. At times it can be disconcerting: I will have switched from one machine to the other, and I'm still trying to adjust the weights for my height when the automated voice pleasantly informs me that I'm supposed to be halfway through my time limit on that machine. Meanwhile, someone else may be creeping up on me, and I want to stay out of their way.

Anyway, today I felt I had lucked out. There was no one in the circuit behind me, and the woman directly in front of me was ancient. I figured as slowly as she was moving and as frail as she looked, there was no way anyone could blame me if I took a little longer on a given machine. After all, it would be impolite to push past the poor thing, as thin and frail as she was. An added plus was that she was about my height, so I wouldn't have to re-adjust any of the seats as I went around. yehaw!

I started out on a bike, pedalling like mad, while my unwitting sparring partner was one ahead of me on the leg lift.
"Halfway there!" echoed the pleasant voice.
Piece of cake.
"Now, stop!"
Pause.
"Change stations!"
I sat down on the leg lift and confidently poised myself to push.
"Begin!"
It didn't budge.
I checked the weights - twenty pounds heavier than I would even attempt to lift!
I looked over at the elderly woman as she eased herself cautiously onto the bike just ahead of me.
Her legs pushed feebly at the pedals.
Hmn.
Maybe it was a fluke.

Next machine was a leg curl - again, twenty pounds heavier than I could lift.
Machine after machine, weight for weight, this old lady beat me by between twenty and fifty pounds!
Her arms were like spun steel - with her arms she was lifting forty to my ten.
It was impossible.
Not only could she out-lift me, she was leaving me in the dust.
I was still huffing and puffing on the last row of machines when she finished her entire circuit and walked airily to the locker room.
She wasn't even out of breath.
Why, if she had known she was competing with me, I think she would have yelled "Booyah!" in my face.
And she'd have had every right to do it, too.