The Family That Trains Together

The standard apartment in our foreigner-friendly part of town offers a swimming pool and fitness center. I head downstairs most mornings to break a sweat in air-conditioned comfort while catching the evening (in Atlanta) news on CNN. If the headlines from Iraq are too discouraging, a few laps in the pool usually get them out of my system.

At first I made the mistake of watching baseball on TV while running. It was hard to concentrate on both simultaneously. Once, during a stressful ninth inning, I got thrown off the back of the treadmill. One second I was sending good vibes to the Cubs’ closer, who had loaded the bases; the next second I was sprawled on the floor.

Jip’s exercise is more intense than in Seattle. She never skips a day of leg pushes and yoga. Taking a shower also gives her a workout, because we didn’t bring along the waterproof wheelchair she was using before. Now Jip sits on a modified bench, which has a low backrest. Because some of the muscles in her trunk region don’t get messages from her brain, this new setup forces her to build up the ones that do.

The pool also draws Chao, who has a bad back and so likes to swim. We see more of him than we would if we lived in a place with fewer amenities. Lately Jip’s niece Boe has jumped on the calorie-burning bandwagon, too. She called last week to ask if she could come over to “do fitness.” Apparently the treadmill agreed with her—she plans to spend the night three times this week.