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As it turns out, Marcia takes me downstairs, to the fitness center where I’ve been a not-so-conscientious member in the past. It’s time, she tells me with a smile, that I transition from the highly-supervised program upstairs to the more self-directed activities on the first floor. She leads me over to a few of the exercise machines, some of which I’ve worked on before, and others of which are new to me. Even on the ones I’m familiar with, she sets the number of metal weights a good bit lower than what I’ve been used to in the past. “Slow and steady” seems to be the physical-therapy motto. She records all the instructions on a paper chart, and shows me the file drawer where it will be kept. I’m supposed to take it out and refer to it, as I repeat the exercise routine in the future.
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Marcia hands me a wallet card for two weeks of free, “step-up” access to the fitness center. After that, medical insurance will no longer pay for my admission to the place. I’ll probably pony up the membership fee myself – although I’m considering going to another local fitness place, instead, that offers much more elaborate facilities, including a swimming pool.
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