It begins. Everyone starts marching in a straight line around the room to the beat of an old Chubby Checker recording, but our line soon becomes a doodle, then morphs into an interpretative dance. Some of us begin to look as if we’re waltzing while others slow to an amble being careful to move aside to allow the quick-steppers to pass.

We represent the full range of physical prowess. Tall and short, rigid and flexible, svelte and stocky, some in elastic-waist shorts or tights, others in ironed blouses and slacks, we come. About a dozen regulars, sixty to eighty-somethings, we meet in the large downstairs room at the senior center to participate in this weekly elder strength-training program.

We come to have a social experience that does not involve having to cook, come to say we came, come to impose an activity on our otherwise sedentary week, come to maintain our physical wellbeing, come to sustain some level of confidence in our independence.

We’re not out to fit into a swimsuit, or develop look-at-me muscles, or train for a physical challenge. We come in recognition of our need and responsibility to maintain. And gradually, we start to nourish ourselves with every subtle improvement. It’s as simple as respecting the aging process. We want to make sure we will be able to get up from the couch in the next five years.

Eventually, each of us at our pace will be able to recognize degrees of improvement. Carole, 84, holds two-pound weights and tries to lift her arms straight out to her sides. Grunting softly, she’ll lift them waist-high. She smiles. Close enough for now.

There are those who easily touch the floor palms down, others who would be grateful just to touch their knees.

One woman says she’s chilly and closes the nearest window. Before the hour ends another woman will complain that it‘s too hot and open the nearest window.

With hands against the wall, we lean forward in plank position and begin doing wall push-ups. Liz pushes herself up and back about three times, then leans against the wall looking as if she’s been shot.

But we are sincere in our efforts and obedient to our whoop-and-holler, high-voltage instructor who could bench-press any one of us. She shouts encouragement: “No rest for the weary. Go team,” as the perspiration collects along our hairlines. “Yes, you can,” she calls out, when we are absolutely sure we can’t. She stands in front of someone who’s leaning limply against the wall: “It’s

in your mind; not in your muscle.”

Among the squats, chair exercises and ab-crunches, we have also become familiar, congenial. We have spent several months unselfconsciously displaying our limitations and strengths in the safe company of each other. It is only natural that when we find the time and breath, we comment on the colorful designs on this one’s socks, a new haircut, or share family anecdotes and suggest additions to another one’s travel itinerary.

And we keep coming.

CK Wolfson is a regular contributor to the Gazette.