I HAVE A STORY TO TELL

A blizzard came down on our facility, placing us on Yellow Status, meaning only essential personnel were being called in. This meant that for the incarcerated men, outside was not on the menu. So workouts started and card games as men swarmed the six phones, calling out into the world. Life in prison didn't stop because of the elements; they adapted. That was why Haneef and I started working out.

Each morning, Monday through Friday, we trained our aging bodies to stay healthy. This began when my sciatica became a detriment to my walking in a single file. On top of that, Haneef had a shoulder issue from weight lifting, so he, as I, discovered a workout book for our joint relief: Strong and Lean by Mark Lauren and Joshua Clark.

Haneef started his routine in the cell, assuming we would be on lockdown all day thanks to the blizzard. When they opened the cell's doors at 9:23 AM, he had a brow of sweat. I moseyed into his cell, my second home since we been friends for a decade plus. We said, "Love you," then I snatched the workout book from his shelf, loaded with books that range from topics on Islam to biographies on former prisoners. I searched the workout book for the latest exercises to begin my week:

60 Seconds of Jumping Jacks

8 Side-Lying Leg Lifts, 2 times, each leg

8 ITB Leg Lifts, 2 times, each leg

8 Backstroke, 2 times, each arm

60 Seconds of Tripod Press

60 Seconds of Let Me Ins

60 Seconds of Romanian Dead Lift To Squat

Isometric Pigeon Stretch (8×10 seconds on each side)

Before I even did any of that, I did 50 pull-ups straight. We built ourselves up to reach this milestone by beginning with 20 pull-ups and adding 1 pull-up per day.

When the routine was completed, I did rocking chair sit-ups, 50 of them, then we did butterflies, 50 as well. This was followed by 100 crunches, then 20 sit-ups. Once done, 5 sets of 10 no-cheat push-ups, and 5 sets of 10 pull-ups. We did 150 calf raises, then 30 squat thrusts.

Sweat dripped from my brow, and this was all accomplished by 9:50 AM. I began searching for a spot on the phone line, but ended up lucky when there was an open phone. I called my Love and had our usual banter on who was feeling older today. She won with a sore knee. I closed the call with assurances that I would call her after lunch.

I'm rushing to my cell and getting a laundry bag of clothing, towels, and my washcloth to shower away the morning workout. The water was hot, and I relished it as I shaved my head bald. As I did this, I'm wondering if Dr. Jordan, my Western History professor, would make the trek through the snow for class today? This made me make a mental note to read up on prehistory, in case she did show up.

The shower ended, and I dressed. I marched into my cell, tossing my dirty clothes into another laundry bag. I heard Popeye returning from his job in the kitchen; he revealed we would be having pork sloppy Joe for lunch. That had me figuring if I should make a cup of noodles or oatmeal? I decided on the oatmeal because I won a jar of peanut butter when the Seattle Seahawks beat the Los Angeles Rams.

In the dayroom, everybody was active and the music from Haneef's TV had me nodding my head as I listened to Jadakiss rap on the classic "Heaven or Hell" song with Meek Mill. That song was a gut punch to my reality as I hummed the hook: "Some ni$$as go to college, some ni$$as go to jail. Some make it into heaven, some make it into hell. Nobody wanna lose. Nobody wanna fail. Nobody wanna die. Nobody wanna kill. We're just trying to live our lives." I turned to the men around me, and they're bobbing their heads; others were reflecting on what they're hearing. This was a sight to behold...Then I dropped my head, contemplating my life.

This song was our shared soundtrack of being in prison. I might've worked out and built my body up into something I'm proud of, but I'm just an in-shape Black man in a cage. I ground my knuckles into my temple as that rap song ended. This shifted my mood as I heard the microwave ding, announcing my oatmeal was done. I took my bowl of food out and marched by men in their 50s and 60s, laughing again as a joke was made.

Back in my cell, I climbed up onto my bunk and prayed over my food. I said it loud, hoping that God would hear me. My eyes turned to the barred window on my top bunk. I peered out and saw a white wonderland of snow. I'm somber, thinking about how I hadn't made a snowman in my entire life. My thoughts shifted to misery as I ate alone. As I shoveled down my hot food, I heard my name being called from the dayroom. I scampered down the metal rungs on the ladder and stepped to the door, peering out of my cell. Down by a stainless steel table was my counselor, waving for me to come to her.

I headed downstairs and she asked me if my dental situation been resolved? My wisdom tooth needed to be extracted and I had been waiting months for it to get pulled. I shared that Medical placed me on pain medication as I waited to be called out sometime next month. She also informed me that she spoke with my mother, who called about my waiting months for a tooth to get pulled. I smiled because I had love out there fighting for me. This immediately changed my mood as I thanked the counselor for checking in on me, then I marched back up to my bunk and peered out that window again. This time I smiled, because I'm going to get out of this prison and head home and make a snowman.

That'll be a story to tell. A great one.