black metal armchair
Photo by Michael Morse on

I hope my compadres are hurting too.
We have taken on a ridiculous challenge
And my abs are singing the blues,
They echo from the hollow rock of being sedentary
Which I’m not,
Except for the lack of core work,
The couch,
And those yummy ice cream bars.
It seems unfair that we work so hard,
Burning fuel in the dark morning hours,
Running, falling, dodging the traffic,
Only to neglect discipline in other areas of fitness,
In nutrition, and the sinful hydration practices.
We pay the price, then some idiot… me,
Says something stupid and another says, “Okay,”
And then we are tummy terrorists
Destroying our egos and abs.

Loving it!

The park was never as dark as this morning,
One truck was already there,
No one was inside,
It weirded me out.

The back of the truck was loaded with weights,
Waiting to fulfill their duty
Of being picked up and put down
By an apprehensive and slightly nutty band of runners.

As the sun rose,
The bars began to stir,
The planning came together,
The group chipped away.

There was music,
There was laughter,
There were geese,
There was a good time.

In the end, there was also enlightenment,
Okay, more of a realization,
Twenty-thousand is just a number,
Will and support, that’s how we are.

Cranking out repetitions,
Churning out the miles,
All because we know we can,
All in the presence slightly nutty friends.

So, the creek didn’t rise,
Cottonmouth didn’t stop a workout,
No “doubtful” messages from the 8-ball,
Just an honest probing of us…success all around.

I worked out this morning,
My partners immature adults
Full of life experiences
I relate to.

I tried a second workout this afternoon.
Former students, current students, rival students,
All of them, everywhere,
Flexing, preening, everything but lifting.

I stuck it out for seventeen minutes,
Headed to the table for coffee and Lived the life of the old man
Who sits in the morning
Wishing to read in silent…
It never happens.
Just like now.

Why didn’t I just swim?

What have I done,
I’m the worst kind of student,
Unmoved by bass infused music,
Unwilling to do what I don’t want to do
Only wanting class to end.
Such are the attributes I bring
To some morning boot camp BS.
My friends twisted my fragile arms,
Not to forcefully, I’ll add,
And now, I sit,
Just a constitutional away
From what should surely
Have me committed.

(Part 2 after class…)

What is this new age term, social buoyancy?

Okay, maybe not new age,
Perhaps just a combination of words
Playing off a new found skill in swimming with efficiency
And the beauty of running with a group
Full of interesting people,
Trustworthy souls,
Not like some Bambi-eyed, feigning obliviousness,
Manipulating, feckless fitness debutante
Who doesn’t really get
That people aren’t enamored by the ditzy act that is
So valuable for getting exclusive club memberships,
But such a turn off to anyone able to think.

No, that kind of worthless use of salaries and guile
Is truly a waste of time.
We don’t run with them…

We did run on the emerging light of earlier starting mornings,
The evolving of our aging vocabulary,
401Ks becoming daycare concerns becoming divorce and then death.
Getting older sure is easier knowing others
Have the same issues that I have,
Knowing that those fears and concerns
Can’t be covered up by some low cut bikini bottoms,
Nope, these are real issues that need to be addressed by others who understand.

Yes, those kinds of things,
Speaking openly about aging
And the semi-futility of fighting with Father Time, Mother Nature, gravity, and
The planned obsolescence that we all must deal with.
We create new running routes, we set new goals, we devise new training programs,
And still,
We get older, our new age, and a bit
Farther removed from the Sonic Run Around where beer, burgers, and a mad dash
Were the essence of youth,
“Go for it,” “let’s get it on,” and “I dare you,”
Once made life one enjoyable challenge.

Of course, that was before 401Ks, day care, divorce, and the ever-increasing frequency
Of death touching our social circles.
Still, we run…
Still, we talk…
Still, we laugh.

Socially buoyant.