A friend suggested I’d like a class at the neighborhood Community Center. I didn’t know that the name—SPF—stood for Senior Power Fit or my internalized ageism may have kept me away. I’m in pretty good shape and figured I’d crush it. I went Tuesday and we literally ran around the gym continuously, stopping just for jumping jacks or other highly aerobic moves, for the first half hour. It kicked my ass.

One woman recognized me and grew teary, remembering my face and name from 35 (!) years ago, when I’d sat with her in labor as a nurse-midwife. Another—the woman who invited me—introduced me around. Still another told me she takes two classes in a row several days a week because she’s retired and her husband works from home. It’s “for better or worse, but not for lunch” she agreed. I felt like I was at a party.

Turns out, this is par for the fitness........

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