JL_LI
Poster Extraordinaire
New spa membership day. What?
I have 5 more sessions remaining in cardiac rehab after my four stents. One of my nurses there told me I need to find a good gym. I’ve progressed beyond what the hospital offers. My dear wife’s my insurance agent and I have an expensive but great Medicare supplement plan. So we checked what’s available nearby. There were plenty of gyms and one, Life Time, was marked Premium in small blue type. My wife checked it out when it first opened and was amazed, not only by the facility but by the price. It was well north of $100 years ago and they’ve added even more. Saunas, steam rooms, indoor and outdoor pools, activities for the kids, spa, salon, coffee and juice bar, indoor bikes, Pilates, yoga, cardio fitness, machines and weights and more aerobic machines than I can count.
You get a tour and then sit down with the saleswoman. Look at her face. Look at her face. Don’t be so obvious. It was like the BMW dealer where the $40,000 car doesn’t exist. She’s describing things like I’m going to buy the package and all the extras. I’ll get a trainer, a nutritionist, learn yoga, swim laps, and more.
I tell her my car dealer analogy. She says, “No. it’s all included.” I’m thinking, included in what? “No. It’s included. Your insurance covers it.” How much without insurance? It’s now $220. Per month. No contract. OMG. Sign me up. I went yesterday and did an hour of vigorous cardio. No one asking me to stick out my arm to check my blood pressure. No one asking about weight or medication changes. A trainer sees me. She looks nothing like the nurses at St. Francis. She asks if I’d like to schedule an appointment. She’ll give me a heart attack. So I sign up anyway for a training session. And the women there working out. No double digit sizes here. OMG. And it’s covered by insurance. This isn’t Silver Sneakers. I didn’t see anyone my age while I was there. This is like the Ritz Carleton of fitness centers. Maybe I’ll get a facial. I can’t look my age in a place like this.
I have 5 more sessions remaining in cardiac rehab after my four stents. One of my nurses there told me I need to find a good gym. I’ve progressed beyond what the hospital offers. My dear wife’s my insurance agent and I have an expensive but great Medicare supplement plan. So we checked what’s available nearby. There were plenty of gyms and one, Life Time, was marked Premium in small blue type. My wife checked it out when it first opened and was amazed, not only by the facility but by the price. It was well north of $100 years ago and they’ve added even more. Saunas, steam rooms, indoor and outdoor pools, activities for the kids, spa, salon, coffee and juice bar, indoor bikes, Pilates, yoga, cardio fitness, machines and weights and more aerobic machines than I can count.
You get a tour and then sit down with the saleswoman. Look at her face. Look at her face. Don’t be so obvious. It was like the BMW dealer where the $40,000 car doesn’t exist. She’s describing things like I’m going to buy the package and all the extras. I’ll get a trainer, a nutritionist, learn yoga, swim laps, and more.
I tell her my car dealer analogy. She says, “No. it’s all included.” I’m thinking, included in what? “No. It’s included. Your insurance covers it.” How much without insurance? It’s now $220. Per month. No contract. OMG. Sign me up. I went yesterday and did an hour of vigorous cardio. No one asking me to stick out my arm to check my blood pressure. No one asking about weight or medication changes. A trainer sees me. She looks nothing like the nurses at St. Francis. She asks if I’d like to schedule an appointment. She’ll give me a heart attack. So I sign up anyway for a training session. And the women there working out. No double digit sizes here. OMG. And it’s covered by insurance. This isn’t Silver Sneakers. I didn’t see anyone my age while I was there. This is like the Ritz Carleton of fitness centers. Maybe I’ll get a facial. I can’t look my age in a place like this.
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