Learning Life Lessons from an Elderly Prisoner

 One of the major misconceptions the public often has about prisoners is that we are all weight pit junkies, spending a bunch of our free time lifting iron. The reality is that the vast majority of prisoners are lazy and out of shape, and they'd rather work out their jaws than their bodies. Even the gangs lack the discipline they used to have. I rarely see unified workouts anymore, when they used to be commonplace. 

My housing unit has roughly 350 prisoners, and I would guess around 10% exercise with any sort of regularity. Maybe another 10% exercise sporadically...occasionally when the weather's nice. The rest would be hard pressed to do 10 pushups or even walk for 20 minutes. 

I have exercised fairly regularly for the last 16 years, for two primary reasons. First, it helps me stay healthy in a place where the healthcare is third-world quality. Michigan's prison healthcare is rarely interested in ensuring the health and welfare of prisoners. 

My second reason is for the mental health benefits. I find regular exercise keeps my anxiety at bay and increases my motivation, energy, and positive feelings. I'm also inspired by the dedication of others who make their health a priority. 

For example, last week, I was in the gym using dumbbells in one of my workout routines. Most of the men in the gym were the same two dozen or so from various housing units. Some were petaling away on bikes or rowing on the row machines. Others were on the gym floor with jump ropes, ab wheels, and pushup equipment. 

In between my sets, I noticed the same old man I'd seen many other times come into the gym, wheel his rolling walker with seat over to the weight rack, and choose a couple of 5 or 10 pound dumbbells. Then, he wheeled himself over to a bench and proceeded to do some unconventional exercises. It mattered little what he was doing, though. I was just impressed that he was doing anything, given his age. 

"Excuse me, sir," I said approaching him. "Do you mind me asking how old you are?" He smiled and said, "Eighty-six. How old are you?" I told him my age and that I was inspired by his commitment to staying healthy. "I'm Bryan, by the way," I said. "Joe," he replied as he shook my hand. 

Other elderly men are also regularly in the gym, including a friend of mine who is seventy-five, but Joe is especially inspiring. As is sometimes said in prison, he's doing time, not letting time do him. He refuses to simply sit around and play cards and drink coffee, or congregate with other prisoners commiserating about our conditions. Instead, he makes the best of his situation. 

I don't know if I'll still be exercising at 86, if I make it to that age, but I hope I keep the positive-minded motivation Joe has. He doesn't use his circumstances as an excuse, and neither will I