My 96-Year-Old Personal Trainer S-t-r-e-t-c-h-e-s Me

Meet Morrie, my “personal trainer,” who just turned ninety-six and stretches me in all sorts of ways.
I got to know Morrie when I saw him stretch his leg over a handrail at the gym and realized he’s more flexible than I am. When I complimented him, he showed me his routine and laughed. “Keep at it, and in a few decades you’ll be like me.”
That was encouraging because I sometimes feel that I’ve already lived beyond my expiration date. But at the rec center I watch Morrie move from...