Heather Saunders Estes

I just came back from a Back East vacation and I found a cicada shell! Yes some poems were written. This one is from last month. In case you didn’t know, I didn’t till I rejoined, the YMCA is officially rebranded “The Y” as of 2010. They started in 1844 as the Young Men’s Christian Association, and decided it was time for a rebrand to better tell the story of what they do. Kudos!

In My Seventies I Start Pumping Iron At The Y

Switch into comfortable clothes,
no street clothes allowed.
Stuff purse into the locker,
dial my purple lock shut.

Sling on a COVID mask
to protect me from all that heavy
breathing and muffle
any unladylike noises.

Weave between the steel machines
to the first one in the circuit – arm press.
Look around. Any women my age?
The heads-up display flashes

“Hello Heather. Are you warmed
up and ready? Press Start.”
Position limbs correctly, ready my breath
to exhale on the first lift.

A digital interface between iron and muscle
paces me as I raise, curl, push and pull.
On to the next machine.
Heart beats faster, as I count ten reps.

The weights are so heavy they keep me
in the moment, like meditation.
Instead of letting go of distractions –
my monkey-mind is rudely shoved.

Over the months I get a bit stronger.
Start to sneak peaks at others’ displays
to compare
if my numbers are higher than theirs.

Even with greater age and wisdom
some things never change.
Smile at myself.
Keep breathing.