The Senior Center exercise instructor on Mondays is chill, very namaste, but on Wednesdays it’s Wendy, who probably never said namaste in her life. She’s got iron gray hair, two sleeves of tattoos & buns of steel, the last of which she says we need, too. Squeeze those butt cheeks, she yells like a drill sergeant, squeeze ’em! We obey as best we can, squeezing to the oldies from all the best eras—”Downtown” by Petula Clark, “Stop! In the Name of Love” by the Supremes, “Never Gonna Give You Up” by Rick Astley, all synced to thirty beats a minute—but the music can’t keep us from dreading where she’s taking us, into what she calls our Discomfort Zones, where we trade pain for gain.

my butt cheeks burning
like a pair of rubber tires
in a trash barrel—

The hardest part, which Wendy says is just as much for our brains as our bodies, is picking up her combinations of marching, walking, squatting & lunging, which she’d never admit is choreography. It calls for coordination & rhythm & a smattering of grace, not much of which most of us have because our brains are just as atophied as our bodies. Might as well be line dancing: Up, back, out, in, up! Up up back back in in out out back back in in out out up up! Jesus Christ. Squeeze the big yellow ball between your knees & with your right hand, toss the little blue ball in the air! Now squeeze the blue ball between your knees & with your left hand, toss the yellow ball in the air! Turns out the Discomfort Zone has many precincts. Stay in your body! Think about what your arms & legs are doing, not what’s outside that window!

There’s a robin’s nest
swaying in the tree outside
wish I was in it—

We know Wendy’s got a kind heart under that full metal jacket, drumming from inside like the Tin Man’s. We wish she could be our sergeant when the moment comes, leading us into the Discomfort Zone for our final battles with the enemy, time. Till then we sneak peeks at its advance on the gym clock, ticking down toward the end of this skirmish: cool-off, our favorite part. Give yourself a hug, she says, & we lift our arms up & out like a robin’s wings unfurling, lay them gently across our heaving chests. Now pat yourself on the back.

unexpectedly
I feel stronger, almost good—
give myself a hug