I’ve gotten a bit flabby during this ordeal. Hopefully you’ve dodged that bullet. I need to get to the gym. Or I need to at least get more exercise. What do you do (or not do) to keep some semblance of fitness going for you? Write that poem.

79 thoughts on “JULY COVID-19 P.A.D. – DAY 4 JOE WEIDER, WHERE ARE YOU?

  1. J

    It’s A Life Sentence

    Having lost 1200 pounds
    in my life, I am an expert,
    50 each time, for 24 rounds,
    in-between, a little growth spurt.
    It’s quite easy, I would say,
    a simple food vacation,
    just a tiny price to pay,
    a few months of moderation.
    Avoid the butter, oils and fat,
    keep the protein small and lean,
    no white foods, none of that,
    stick with yellows, reds and green.
    Though some might yet resist,
    not me, my friend, so very wise,
    I will tell you, yes insist
    one must also exercise.
    There’s a plan under the sun,
    if you listen to this sage,
    an approach for everyone,
    every week a brand new rage.
    Myself, I started dieting
    back in 1995.
    I’m still here, somewhat healthy,
    grateful just to be alive.
    I haven’t lost much heft,
    might have gained a pound or two,
    but with what years are left,
    no minor, minus resolutions will ensue.
    I’ll stick to bigger goals,
    positive, grand plans,
    I’ll aim for lofty roles,
    for the betterment of man.

  2. Sadly the Plague
    found me round of leg
    and rear (and every most
    where). With the cost of beef
    and beer inflated the vogue
    for sourdough comes to mean
    if nothing is gained,
    not a pound
    has been lost.

  3. I Make Myself Walk

    up trail to the high gardens

    sun tipping into western fields
    birds beginning their evening stir

    step over two pinfeathered shapes
    almost lost in deep grass blown

    from their nest in the high winds
    whisper the Requiescat and hope

    spirits send more to fill the woods
    from what has fled the shredded nest

    More than a thousand steps to where
    beets shoulder from their rows

    onions slipped onions from soil sheathes
    squash snipped and peppers snapped

    to trundle back in wooden trug
    its duct taped slats a bit repaired

    like back and legs and even will
    that drives me up trail, down.


    When I get too big in my seat
    I know it’s time to move my feet,
    My regimen would be complete
    if I resigned to hit the street.
    The patter of my feet sound sweet
    a quite ambitious beat feet feat.
    But, alas I feel the heat,
    grilling like raw burger meat.
    An ice cold lager would be neat,
    since lemonade cannot compete.
    Once around and then repeat,
    when I get too big in my seat.

  5. .


    I have maintained
    I have not gained
    This COVID thing
    Has caused no pain

    No pounds I’ve found
    To hang around
    My pudgy gut
    Already round

    No change for me
    No gains for me
    Because I am
    A retiree

  6. .

    What COVID

    I have learned from this isolation
    That I really don’t have many friends
    All I really need is my family
    After all, they’ll be there in the end
    And COVID’s brought us closer than ever
    Makes me wish we could be together forever

    In the meantime…….

    The pool is cleaner than ever before
    And the Honey-Do list has shrunk
    The longer this goes the more I get done
    In all honesty, who’d a thunk
    That a pandemic would be such fun
    And my procrastinations would all get done

    But when it’s over……

    We’re all gonna’ have a big party
    We’ll cookout and swim and play games
    We’ll hug and high five without masks on
    And forget about the isolation pains
    Then we’ll gather ‘round like we used to
    And thank God that we all made it through

  7. Happy 4th to you all. Here in southeast England, we’re being battered with storms.

    A Summer Storm

    Feels like winter is in the air,
    as wind howls hard off the sea.
    Gales piping through in trees,
    and sheep have turned, facing
    north. See the grass, it’s level,
    flat, and not a soul walks on
    the beach. Not a foot to fall,
    no kites to reach the sky.
    No way can this be July.

  8. Stalled Out

    I used to walk an hour a day
    But then I got busy
    And then hot weather came my way
    The heat made me dizzy

    So I decided to walk late
    But then I got lazy
    Then early morning, not to wait
    But then I felt hazy

    So now, at most, I touch my toes
    Between writing sessions
    Get back to walks before girth grows?
    Yes, that is the question

  9. Pingback: 3 July 2020 The Beach – This Is Not A River —

  10. During a pandemic, regular
    walks are the order of the day —
    walks in the neighborhood, walks
    in the forest, walks along the
    river bank, walks in the farmlands
    preserved for public use.

    Walking, walking, walking, walking.
    Keeping track of mileage as we’ve
    walked past Boston from our
    Philadelphia home. I’m so tired
    of walking, but the gym is off-
    limits and my bike needs repairs.

    Starting today, I’ve decided not
    to walk anymore. From now on, I’ll
    amble and ramble, wonder as I
    wander. I’ll saunter and stroll and
    perambulate. It’s a new day
    waiting for me to step out and go.


    I daily do my cinnamon swirls,
    spaghetti twirls, and teaspoon curls.
    Then, if I can, I crunch my fries.
    (Don’t criticize my exercise.)

    © Marie Elena Good, 2020

  12. Walking and Moaning

    Feeling lost and loose.
    No gym to tighten muscles,
    and mind. Long walks
    when possible, chair
    exercises on diagrammed
    sheets of paper. Staple
    has loosened, so pages
    are kept together by
    keeping them pinned
    under a pile of magazines
    on a coffee table. Then,
    there’s always moaning
    and groaning which takes
    surprisingly little effort.

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