Oh Momma, So Many Questions

Big class last night.
A lot of punishment was meted out for slow learners.
The whole class paid.
Why is it, the guys can’t count past four?
The girls don’t have that counting problem.
Why is it the strongest looking guys struggle the hardest with the 200 shoulders?
Do they pick up too much weight?
Why is the running such a difficult task for some and yet others run with abandon?
I believe those, the easy runners, could run all night long.
Why didn’t May and Audrey join us last night?
Was the music too raw or did their advanced years keep them at bay?
What did the Yoga instructor say to one of the guys at the front of the line in the middle of the class?
Better yet, why did they laugh?
“Tell us all”, my old high school coach would say.
Where was Cheshire and Transformer?
Will we ever see the Mighty T again?
How much sweat have those mats absorbed?
Don’t they feel heavier?
Do the crunches ever get any easier?
When will a six pack or even a one pack start to show up?
Is the turtle shell the best I can hope for?
Where has Sweat Shirt Boy (SSB) been and why is he now back?
Is my new name really going to be dumbbell?
Or was it a missed modifier causing the command to sound like, “pick it up, dumbbell”?
Shouldn’t it have been, “pick it up, the dumbbell”?
Was it the lack of a comma, some other errant punctuation or a participle placement problem?
“I sure hope so”, said me in my mind as I type this.
All night the questions rumble through my mind as we jump rope, hit mitts, pound the heavy bag.
Sometimes they are funny enough that I begin laughing out loud.
I am fairly sure a number of the players question my status, “is he really all there”.
I have a counting problem, I have a hearing problem and I frequently still try to put the gloves on the wrong hands.
But in spite of these issues, I will keep coming back, keep pondering deep and not so deep questions and continually wonder if I will be able to do this when I am eighty six?