Don't Let's Call It a Diet, I Sing the Body Electric, Mothering, Poetry

Elliptically Speaking…

The paddles on the exercise machine
like snowshoes in the woods
ease my progress…

Occasionally used heavily, but
other times for hanging towels,
it fills a place…

Actual sweat runs down my neck,
constituting moderate exertion,
lights show fat burn…

The greater efforts of many years
have been poured into children
being mother…

You cannot calculate the effectiveness
of parenting in the same way,
clearly measured…

You only hope if someone stops
to track the progress you will have
seemed to matter…

The revolutions, the level of resistance,
the elevated beating of your heart,
the things that hurt…

7 thoughts on “Elliptically Speaking…”

  1. A friend and I, both moms, recently hiked through a mountain trail – going only a very short distance – but winded and slightly sweaty nonetheless…and our conversation – how motherhood has been our primary role, ergo, the state of our physical unfitness…being a mom takes a lot of energy…it just isn’t aerobic in the same way…hope exercising continues to be a place of renewed sense of self!

  2. And the ifs, ands, and buts
    along with the oars…
    blade cuts water, chord cuts
    boat finds new shores.
    You inspire me! Thank you for another beautiful journey into non-prose, Songbird. The work of rowing, like rearing, is circular, and the headway often hard to see, but exertion brings its own honest joys and releases. Know that other rowers are there, pulling along with you!

  3. I never met a calorie I didn’t take home to meet the family. Somehow most seem to move in. So I have a recumbent bike, and I try to discipline myself to ride it 35 min, 4 miles, 200 calories a day. A lot of days I make it. Some days I don’t. I find the advice in my prayerbook applies: don’t try to make up what you miss, that only leads to guilt; just start with today. I also like what Cesar Milan the Dog Whisperer says is the dog’s state of being: live in the present moment. For sinners like me that’s a comfort. Keep sweatin’ EZ. I’d hate to think what my parenting stats would look like.

  4. My daughter’s friend told me, “If I have kids, I’m not going to let them call me Mom. I want them to respect me.” Ouch.
    Love this!

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