Journalistic Intentions

Move Your Body Myrtle

         Prompt: Move your body, lunges

         

         

         

         

         "That's good, Myrtle. Just move your body. You've got this!" chirped the lithe, lean, loquacious cheerleader the seniors' home had hired to motivate the residents.

         Myrtle swallowed a moan and swiped the humid beads of perspiration dripping into her eyes. "My lungs. My lungs," she protested with a wheeze.

         At the front of the recreation room, the sprite in spandex hollered, "They're called lunges dear. They stretch your leg muscles and get the blood pumping."

         Myrtle and her best friend, Hester shared a glance and a teeth-baring grimace. Where had this dynamo come from? What did she eat for breakfast, something sugary spiked with caffeine? Both woman stooped to retie their trainers and sneak peeks around the overly-bright space. Even with their annoying new welcome-to-aging hearing loss they could recognize the grunts, gasps and muttered curses echoing around them.

         "Psst. Did you see George? Is that a healthy shade of red?" whispered Hester.

          The two friends straightened despite the creaking protests from their knees.

         "Come on ladies. Time for burpees."

         "I did enough of those when my Charlie was still crying for another bottle and dry diapers. What is she doing? It's not natural for anyone to bend and move that quickly."

         Hester's eyes widened and her mouth gaped. "I'm just going to practise my two-step. That's moving, right?"

         "Hey everyone! This conditioning move is called the bird dog. Wouldn't you like something slower? Look, you can rest on the floor."

         Myrtle muttered under her breath. "Is she going to pull us all back up? I'm not coordinated enough to lift one leg and one arm at the same time. It's too much like swimming and I never got the hang of that. Let's swing our arms a bit."

         "Ladies and gents this move is known as the Superman. You pretend to fly while balancing on your stomach."

         "More like a floundering drunk," tittered Hester.

         Myrtle plonked down on the blue carpet. "I think I'll call this move the slug or maybe the sloth. The trick is to avoid any movement whatsoever."

         "Let's pump our legs in a circle. You remember riding a bike, no?"

         Myrtle and Hester giggled. Oh, they remembered. Not an easy thing to do with long skirts and billowing scarves. They wobbled and laughed their way all over town. Only that one time did they hit anyone and only because they didn't have time to swerve. He'd had such blue eyes. Eyes devoted to Hester. He always told everyone that his future bride had met him by accident. She preferred to claim he'd fallen for her.

         "It's time for our cleansing breath. Inhale. Hold it, hold it."

         Sputters became coughs.

         "And release it slowly through your nose."

         Hester and Myrtle snorted.

         "That was a great first session people. I bet your heart rates were elevated. There's nothing like that surge of pumping blood."

         "We may be older, but we know a certain something sure to get our hearts all a flutter." This was shared with knowing nudges.

         The instructor smiled and George glared. Myrtle and Hester waved their goodbye. They had their sights set on a post workout snack of cookies. If they hurried they could avoid the frenzied lunges exercised by their fellow residents.

         ( 544 words )