“Hello, again,” said a heavyset senior with hooded eyes, leaning upon her cane, waiting for her ride home. The afternoon sun bleached her faded housedress and shadowed her bulk against the entrance. I nodded as I passed her, noting her hallowed spirit.

We’d returned to the Y for short spells of walking with my cane, the humidity prohibiting exercising outdoors. Immediately, the cool air in the foyer felt like an elixir, eased my lung functioning. My steps quickened—So far, so good.

Again, Tyrol, maskless, grinned behind the reception counter as he called me by name. Again, not many members were around.

My first stop was the scale in the women’s locker room. My helper steadied me on the platform until the numbers settled in place—no weight loss relieved me.

Then, we walked through large connecting rooms filled with rows of exercise machines, weight lifting equipment; through the full-sized gym where two guys were shooting hoops; and then, through an exercise room with a mirrored wall and recessed closets with various sized balls and yoga equipment. Long strips of wood veneer flooring would help focus my eyes upon maintaining my balance. For time-out purposes, three blue-cushioned chairs sat along one wall. This arrangement would serve my needs.

I rested a bit before standing to get my balance, then began walking with/ without my cane, my helper, at my side. The mirror reflected a tall senior with long blue-jean-clad legs and short white hair, not as stooped as I had expected. Seven times around the room’s perimeter was enough. I was grateful, finished for the day. Tomorrow’s challenge, yet to be met.