"Don't Sweat the Style Stuff"

By Jerry Zezima

Row, row, row my seat swiftly down the track.

Warily, warily, warily, warily, my body’s out of whack.

That’s the tune I sang to myself — because I didn’t want to scare everyone else at the gym — as I rocked and rolled on a rowing machine under the expert guidance of my very own personal trainer.

I decided to go back to the gym because I have a heart condition and my cardiologist recommended it (going back to the gym, not having heart condition).

I met assistant manager Antwone Bowen and said I hadn’t been there in a while.

“How come?” he asked.

“I just got out of jail,” I told him. “I was in for sticking up a gym.”

Antwone smiled nervously.

“Not really,” I admitted. “I was diagnosed with an aortic aneurysm and was scheduled for open-heart surgery, so I stopped coming.”

“How did the surgery go?” Antwone asked.

“I didn’t need it,” I replied. “The doctor said I have to do cardio exercises, so I’m back.”

When I told Antwone I’m 71, he exclaimed, “Wow! You don’t look it.”

“How’s your eyesight?” I wondered.

“Not good,” said Antwone, who’s 26 and wears glasses. “But I can see that you’re in excellent shape.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” I said. “That’s why I’d like to get a personal trainer.”

Antwone put me in touch with Shae Ayyildiz, who’s 24 and has been training people, young and old, for two years.

“I could start you on the three-pound dumbbells,” Shae said during my introductory meeting.

“I’m a 185-pound dumbbell,” I said. “Besides, I’m not supposed to do any heavy lifting.”

“In that case, rowing is very good,” Shae said. “You can do that, the high bike and the treadmill.”

When I showed up a few days later for my first training session, Shae said I should warm up on the treadmill for 15 minutes.

I breezed through it without having to call an ambulance.

“You’re starting off well,” said Shae. “But you shouldn’t be wearing jeans. Why aren’t you wearing sweatpants?”

“I have to run errands after this and I need the pockets for all my stuff,” I explained.

“I hope you won’t be too uncomfortable on the rowing machine,” said Shae, who took me over to one, got me seated and told me what to do: “Pull on the handle and push with your legs.”

I instantly got into a good rhythm.

“You’re going at the speed of light!” Shae chirped.

“That’s because I’m lightheaded,” I said. “Could I be on the Olympic rowing team?”

“Sure,” she answered. “You might even win a gold medal.”

“Not bad for a guy who doesn’t have all his oars in the water,” I noted.

Then Shae took me over to a high stationary bike, which looked like the kind used by racers in the Tour de France.

“I’ll always have Paris, even though I’m not going anywhere,” I said.

“You’re pedaling like a champ,” said Shae.

“Do you have any clients who are my age?” I asked.

“Yes,” Shae said. “But you’re doing much better than they do. And you’re more active.”

From the bike it was back to the treadmill to cool down.

“The treadmill helped me warm up before and now it’s helping me cool down,” I pointed out. “How does it know?”

“It’s smart,” answered Shae, who was impressed that I did 15 minutes on the treadmill, seven on the rowing machine, seven on the bike and another 10 on the treadmill. “And it was only your first session.”

“If you were to give me a grade, what would it be?” I asked.

“I’d give you an 8.5 out of 10,” Shae said. “But that’s only because of your clothes.”

“You deducted a point and a half for style?” I said incredulously.

“You need to dress properly for training,” she replied.

“I barely broke a sweat,” I said. “That’s because I’m not wearing sweats.”

“If you wear them next time,” Shae promised, “I’ll give you a perfect 10.”

Copyright 2025 by Jerry Zezima