Every time I go over to Victoria Park to drag myself around the 600 meters of rubberized track, I see them. Off in the equipment areas, in the open area behind the snack stand, in the wider or less-traveled paths.

Little old men and women … more women than men, actually … going through the slow, careful motions of tai chi.

If you have been around any Chinese community, you have seen them. Out and about, usually in the morning, slowly striking poses. Stretching … rotating … reaching … stepping …

Doing tai chi.

Not the martial version of the ancient Chinese art. But the low-stress training/fitness/maintenance version. (It is explained in the “health benefits” section of the wikipedia link, above.)

For decades, off and on, I would see people doing tai chi (maybe mostly in commercials for senior citizens and their medicines?) … and wonder what possible benefit they could derive from that slo-mo mime show.

Well, you hit a certain age … you see enough people doing what they do … and you finally figure it out.

You figure it out on a muggy day on the island of Hong Kong as you’re jogging around the track in the park, not getting  faster anymore, and your hip hurts, and your Achilles hurts … and finally a light bulb goes on.

Eventually, the point of exercise is … not an eight-minute mile or bench-pressing your own weight …

It’s about being able to move. To retain your flexibility. To get your heart rate a little above normal. To get outside for a few minutes and do some stretching — before your joints and ligaments and muscles freeze up and you can’t move them at all.

That’s what the tai chi folk are doing. Slowly turning. Rocking up on a toe, then back on a heel. Turning at the waist, reaching, clenching, rolling.

I’m not quite there yet. But I can see it from here. When just moving around is going to be an effort.

That is what tai chi, at least as practiced by the old folks I see here, is about. Keeping themselves limber enough to retain a certain quality of life. Being able to get around. To get out of bed.

It finally hit me. Perhaps because my body clock struck 10 p.m., or something.

“Keep on keepin’ on, my man!” That’s what I find myself thinking as I jog past a little guy who must be 80 … but is still out there in his T-shirt and slacks, stretching and balancing and flexing.

Keen on keepin’ on.  Tai chi for all you’re worth.

I may be joining you some day. Something I never could have imagined … but now seems perfectly understandable.