I see her every night. No bright colors, no fancy water bottle,

just a small woman, bent, hair pulled back, in plain grey

sweatshirt and leggings. Every night, the same deal. I have seen her,

knelt to the ground crying, watched her struggle. Watched her

bend, break, and lose. When the weight’s too heavy for her,

I’m there, watching her form, helping her take the plates back,

and watching her slowly, surely transform.