Ben and I continue to head to the gym. He is amenable to this, which is good because I barely have enough motivation for myself. The room is set up such that everyone faces the same way, enabling us to look out the large windows if we choose. But most of us opt for AirPods or screens, to help distract us from the task at hand. 

 

The other day there was a father and son lifting weights, and their pattern was to put heavier discs on for the dad, who muscled them to the sky, then remove them and replace them with lighter ones for the son. Then they did it all again. I suppose there is some inherent logic in short bursts with rest in between, or maybe it is just so no one gets bored. Benjamin noticed this and his protective side kicked in. But not so quickly that he said anything. It was the next day, when a different athlete was using the weights, that Ben approached to warn him about the dangers of children being hurt. 

 

It was probably confusing. 

 

This week, there was a man jumping rope with gusto. It looked tiring, though if memory serves I did that very thing every recess in fourth grade. Not to impress anyone, or improve my BMI, but because it was fun. Remarkable, really, that what fell under the category of play then is squarely under the heading of forced labor now. 

 

Another young person without an ounce of fat, was genuflecting, or practicing proposals. He bobbed up and down a dozen times, then changed knees. He will be ready for church, or a fiancé when the time comes. 

 

My mind meanders in the repetition of cycling, and the other day I forgot gym etiquette and sang along to my AirPods. Ben looked at me aghast. 

 

The room is peopled by those of us who want to get stronger, or stave off arthritis, or increase our life span. But it almost makes me laugh. The collective calories spent, and muscles engaged, do not result in anyone going forward an inch. Contrary to the cumulative miles recorded on bikes or treadmills, we are all marching in place. 

 

But it seems that something less tangible is going on. 

 

It seems reminiscent of what shows up in life. I may feel like progress is non-existent, because here I am with the same repetitions. But maybe when I step off the treadmill that is earthly existence and on to the golden streets, I will discover an inner strength that lets me sprint over the next mountain.