Gym/exercise

Aging, All Poems, Gym/exercise, Trees

Branches Sway

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Have you ever noticed branches swaying in the breeze?

Bending, stretching, returning to upright positions?

As though doing exercises?

Or maybe yoga?

A practice Bob and I started.

In our mid-seventies.

First, chair yoga.

Seated, maneuvering this way, that.

Coordinating with the breath.

Inhaling, exhaling.

Then graduating to a mat on the floor.

Gentle joining of mind and body.

Sliding from one pose to another.

Standing, sitting, lying prone, supine.

Advancing, little by little.

Thrusting legs up and out.

Like limbs of an old oak tree.

Seeking flexibility, balance

in arboreal harmony.

 

Lynn Benjamin

June 28, 2024

All Poems, Animals/Insects, Food, For Children, Gym/exercise, Holidays, Juneteenth

The Gym Was Closed

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I knew the gym was closed today.

But, it didn’t occur to me, the university as well.

To commemorate Juneteenth.

When Major General Gordon Granger arrived in Galveston, Texas.

On June 19, 1865.

To inform the people, the Civil War, over.

Won by Union troops.

Bringing the executive order to declare slaves freed.

Over the years, becoming a folk holiday for African Americans.

Made federally official in 2021 by President Joe Biden.

Closing schools, post offices, banks.

To honor this second Independence Day.

Proclaiming the end of human bondage in the United States.

So, upon arising, I realized I had a job to do.

One I had forgotten.

For the usual goose feeder would not come to work.

To deliver her morning treats.

I hurried to locate cereal, a bag.

To carry to the empty parking lot at Salus.

Where, indeed, the seven geese waited.

Two parents, five goslings.

Now as tall, plump, feathered as their creators.

Indistinguishable, in fact.

Until I rattled the bag.

Five teenagers scampering after me, ahead of their parents.

Conditioned by the sound to chase the cheerio pick-me-up.

Squealing in delight.

Racing after the bounty I scattered.

I, crooning in my high-pitched Mommy voice: You’re getting soooo big. Okay, here it comes!

I rejoice the geese are free

to wander as they please,

settle down, rear their young

without inhumanities.

Lynn Benjamin

June 19, 2024

All Poems, Family, Grandchildren, Gym/exercise, Health/Illness

Exercise Class

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It’s really fun, said Elias.

Talking about the exercise class at Salus.

The one we got him a special waiver to attend with us.

Now saying he’d like to take two classes tomorrow.

Before returning to New York.

One to strengthen core.

The second, yoga.

Both for stretching.

Moving arms, legs.

Maintaining balance.

For learning.

How to bend with pipes.

Pull elastic bands.

Carry weights.

Do dead bugs.

All novel for an eleven-year-old.

Not used to tuning every muscle.

Novel for us grandparents, too.

Maybe adding a little extra time to well-worn bodies.

Who would ever dream he and we could benefit?

Together?

Same trainer?

Child and parents of his mother?

But, the three of us, we fit

like colorful lego bricks.

All eager to build and master

physical wellness tricks.

 

Lynn Benjamin

June 13, 2024

Aging, All Poems, Change, Family, Gym/exercise, Health/Illness, Humor, Love, Pleasure, Seasons, Spouses

Transformation

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Bob transforms before my eyes.

Noting new muscles in stomach, thighs.

Increasing weights on machines.

Walking with zip, alacrity.

Signing up for classes to strengthen core.

Watching carbs, losing weight.

Shrinking from pant size forty to thirty-six.

A number he hasn’t worn since his twenties.

Why do people think a man of seventy-five can’t change?

Even become younger?

Stare at himself in the mirror like a seventeen-year-old?

Study his physique?

Buy stylish clothing?

New undergarments, socks?

Hold my hand, rub my back?

Flirt, enchant, allure with passion?

Wax poetic about flowers?

Blooming clematis, daisies, lavender.

Waiting for bee balm, Echinacea to bare petals.

Attract hummingbirds, butterflies.

Notice mating calls of frogs, foxes?

Cardinals, robins, wrens

Luscious sensuality abounds.

June’s vitality makes it easy to be young.

No matter your age.

Passion floats with pollen through the air.

Settling golden on the skin.

Transfigured, we instantly take care.

With vigor, once again smitten.

 

Lynn Benjamin

June 3, 2024

All Poems, Emotions, Gym/exercise, Pleasure, Stories

Tempting Fate

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The morning, breezy, overcast.

Inviting two walks.

Before, after breakfast.

But, dark clouds hover.

Forecast predicting storms.

Arriving earlier than declared.

Then, hiatus.

Touch of sun.

Let’s run outside again, we call to one another.

Grabbing umbrellas, rain hats.

Wanting one more go around the block.

A few more dry minutes.

Between tempests.

To stretch legs.

Along the same path.

Now glistening from showers.

Distracted by angelinas, foxglove blooms.

Forgetting it would rain again.

Till we feel pitter pat on hands, shoes.

Slowly picking up speed.

Becoming a vertical river.

We push up umbrellas.

Increasing pace.

But the torrent, relentless.

Soaking shirts, shoes.

We stop under a small overhang.

To catch our breath.

Wait for the downpour to lighten.

Before sprinting home.

Down the middle of the street.

Avoiding deep puddles.

Cars on either side.

Making it back sopping wet,

tempting fate, succumbing.

But instead of misery, regret,

returning home, humming.

 

Lynn Benjamin

May 28, 2024

Aging, All Poems, Gym/exercise, Health/Illness

Mobilizing Mitochondria

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Each day I run to the gym.

Sometimes for a class.

Sometimes to walk the track.

Do solitary stretching.

Or lift weights on machines.

Thinking about balance, strength, endurance.

But, lately, paying attention to mitochondria.

What are they? you ask.

Those thousands of power batteries inside cells.

Residing in heart, liver, muscles, brain.

And every other organ.

Breaking down nutrition into energy for the body.

Making  super fuel known as ATP.

Exercise stimulating their number, density, turnover.

Producing more ATP.

Science suggesting their health may increase mine.

Delay aging.

Keep it at bay.

Who knew I could nurture them?

Just by moving?

Mobilizing mitochondria

stimulates growth and change.

Exercise to keep our youth.

Not a bad exchange.

 

Lynn Benjamin

May 19, 2024

All Poems, Animals/Insects, Family, Gym/exercise, Holidays, Love, Mother's Day, Spouses

There’s a First Time for Everything

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There’s a first time for everything.

Like finding yourself in a gym on Mother’s Day.

Instead of a park or familial gathering.

Carrying kettlebells, doing squats.

Lifting weights, crunching.

After a sprinkling of calls.

Texts from children, grandchildren.

Two neat packages for mother at the door.

But, in truth, not a bad way to spend a few hours.

On a damp, showery day.

Not alone, but in concert with an admirer.

Together over fifty years.

A man who woos me daily.

Walking the track with me.

From the window, watching geese shepherd their young.

Protecting, nurturing them.

Sparrows flapping in and out of a pipe in the stucco.

With ingenuity, grace.

Listening to an audio book as we circle round.

Alone on the path.

Then shifting to the studio.

Where Bob ferries equipment for both of us.

The gentleman he is.

Two of each piece of apparatus.

Pipes, bands, half balls for balance.

Finally, the machine room.

Taking turns exercising arms, legs.

Till exiting for a meander in mist.

Elixir for blooming trees, flowers, foliage.

And for us.

A natural steam bath,

opening ears and pores.

Mother’s Day music serenades

from avian troubadours.

 

Lynn Benjamin

May 15, 2024

All Poems, Animals/Insects, Birth, Change, For Children, Gym/exercise, Parent Love

From the Window of the Gym

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I watch from the window of the gym.

As I make rounds on the track.

Staying dry on a damp, drizzly day.

Gazing at geese.

Two parents, five goslings.

Roaming a distance from the pond.

Vigilance diminishing as hatchlings grow.

Bigger, fatter, faster.

Poking, picking at grass.

Unbothered by showers.

Maybe even rejoicing in them.

Finding them cool, refreshing, cleansing.

I think how patient parent geese are.

Wondering, do they ever lose their tempers?

As the babies age?

Become teens?

Obey less, defy more.

Claim independence.

I don’t really know.

Because by then, they fly away.

Till next Spring to nest.

Showing me their parenting

at its very best.

 

Lynn Benjamin

May 13, 2024

 

 

 

 

Aging, All Poems, Change, Family, Gym/exercise, Miracles, Spouses

It’s A Miracle

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It’s a miracle! said Bob. We were just at Independence Hall, now in Elkins Park.

As we traversed streets from train station back to our house.

A twenty-minute walk uphill.

I, struggling to match him.

Looking his way as we marched apace.

No, I countered, the miracle is that you’re walking, not driving, to and from the train.

Well, he answered, it was seeing Barbara do it.

Barbara, the eighty-nine-year-old neighbor.

A woman we run into at the gym.

Once, waving to her on the train platform.

Returning from a class in the city.

No, no, no, I insisted.

It’s your new stamina, resolve, determination to exercise.

He turned to me, maybe you’re right.

Having resisted this trek before commitment to strengthening.

Grumbling, it bothered his hip.

Now looking energized, healthy.

Nary a complaint.

Moving forward with alacrity.

Complete unrestraint.

 

Lynn Benjamin

April 29, 2024

Aging, All Poems, Career, Change, Gym/exercise, Humor, Pandemic, Retirement

Our Trainer Locked the Door

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Our trainer locked the door to the track.

Where we walk when weather, inclement.

He came to tell us it would be off limits two hours.

For the conference the university hosted downstairs.

From the course above, we viewed the gathering.

Tables, exhibits, box lunches.

Attendees, speakers dressed for the occasion.

Much like we did while in practice.

Who can count all the conferences attended?

Over a span of more than thirty-five years?

Every topic imaginable in our field.

Psychiatry, psychology, addictions, hypnosis.

Family therapy, leadership, supervision, ethics.

Sitting, sometimes for days, absorbing information.

Networking with colleagues.

In venues, close and far away.

Till the pandemic hit.

When seminars turned to boxes on Zoom.

It refreshes to see in-person meetings again.

Younger people learning like we did.

Though I remember my body complaining.

After long hours in a seat.

Wishing to move, to walk, to run.

At last I have the chance

to wiggle, twist, and step.

Hoping old age maneuvers

awaken youthful pep.

 

Lynn Benjamin

April 22, 2024