Exercise and Me
By now I think most of us are aware that I’m not a huge fan of formal exercise in my personal life.
Do I think that it’s useful? Sure!
Do I enjoy it? NOPE.
And this week I’m going to take a break from talking about the importance of moving your body with intention and purpose and talk about my journey with physical wellness instead.
It is so important for me to be able to connect and vibe with my clients, my readers, my listeners. There is no way I could ever feel comfortable having these platforms and having people think that I’ve got it all together or that I’m even close to perfect at all of this. First of all, it isn’t true, but mostly, I’m a human being with cravings, hormones, and life stressors just like everyone else.
When I was very young, my family definitely didn’t have a ton of money to put me in sports or activities. We went to the daycare at the local YMCA and through that were able to use the facilities. I took some swimming lessons (I still can’t swim well), enjoyed the open gym, but mostly loved the gymnastics. Flipping through the air gave me a sense of freedom; feeling my hair whip around, the springs under my feet as they propelled me higher than I could jump on my own, the chalk on my hands to protect my hands from sticking to the equipment…I loved it all.
I had a purple leotard that I wore. It was lavender, really, and looked super rad over white tights with bubble gum pink leg warmers. I wore it for practice, at home, every chance I could. I can remember feeling jealous that the other girls had several leotards and could be on the team, traveling and competing. There was never an explanation given as to why I couldn’t, but as an adult now I know…the money just wasn’t there. But the opportunity to just participate at all was incredible, and I soaked it up every chance I could.
After a few years of gymnastics, my knee started to really bother me. It hurt to walk, it hurt to sit, it hurt to lie down. Mom took me into the pediatrician who did some tests and determined that I had Osgood-Schlatter disease. Pretty common in childhood, it’s caused by repetitive use, mostly running and jumping, and ends up with a lump just below the kneecap. The treatment back then? Slap me in a brace from hip to foot for 3 months.
This was devastating. Not only did I not get to continue with gymnastics, but I had to sit in a leg brace all summer long. It was one of those that had the blue foam padding, so it turned my skin blue and it itched so bad. Most of the summer was spent sitting in a lawn chair outside reading books and watching the neighborhood kids have all of the fun.
Fast forward to after the brace came off. I couldn’t go back to gymnastics; my knee wouldn’t be able to take the pounding. I had to find something to do that was active and my mother had made it pretty clear that I was on my own. So, my neighborhood friend and I decided we’d take up tennis. There was a great tennis court at the high school just a few blocks away and her dad even offered to teach us, as he had played all through high school and college. Awesome!
She was so excited to show me her new lightweight racquet, and I could see her face fall as I showed her my used one made from wood and obtained from a yard sale. Her dad, who to this day still holds the dad standard I hold all dads to, never even blinked. He just said, “cool, let’s go!”.
We went down to that tennis court almost every day for the entire summer. While I still didn’t get to play competitively, I had tons of fun, learned a lot and didn’t totally suck at it. As it turns out, all the quick movements, sharp turns, and hard landings without proper technique is really hard on the knees. Soon I found myself in the same predicament as just the summer before.
I refused to acknowledge it and treat it the way that “worked” before, instead choosing to wrap it with an ACE bandage and calling it good. No more tennis, no more gymnastics, maybe gentle jogging would be okay?
By that time I had started to fully settle into my first bout with eating disorders, and soon jogging became running. Running became the best way to make myself throw up, and when it finally got to the point where I couldn’t force myself to run through the pain anymore, I was starting to accept that I just couldn’t do things that pounded on my joints like that.
Of course through all of this I had been dancing. That’s been the only constant throughout my life, but I never considered it to be any form of exercise or sport, just something fun I liked to do. At this point I had helped choreograph several talent show performances and started going to the local teen dance club every weekend to percolate the night away. Almost everything I was eating at this point was being swiftly regurgitated, my weight was being controlled, and life as a teen was good.
The summer between middle and high school I lost 30ish pounds. Throughout my high school years I continued to dance for fun, but definitely didn’t participate in exercise or sports, unless joint rolling could be considered a sport. Then babies came, the weight came, and I did absolutely nothing physical other than work and take care of babies. I was strong because my job required me to lift heavy things, but not even close to being fit.
When I started to lose the weight I became interested in things like Tai-Bo and kickboxing, not because they seemed enjoyable, but because I knew they’d help me lose the weight faster. I’d do them for a few days and then watch the DVDs collect dust. I eventually started dating someone who was into lifting weights and they helped me start doing that in a way that felt doable and that gave me results. The problem was that the results came quickly and in the places I didn’t want to change shape. Soon my jeans wouldn’t fit over my thighs and shirts that once fit were tight in the shoulders.
I gave up on the weight lifting, failing to see that I was losing fat mass and gaining lean body mass instead. I could only see the scale and clothes sizes increase. That was the opposite of what my goal was, and I wanted nothing to do with it.
Finally, when I went back to school and had my heart set on becoming a dietitian, realized I couldn’t do the commute to the nearest school who offered the program, and had to “settle” for the exercise science program, I was terrified. I was scared that I’d have to become a personal trainer, that I’d have to actually exercise for a living. That was the last thing I wanted for a career.
Once I dug my heels in and started to learn the science behind body movement, I quickly learned that intentional and purposeful body movement does not have to be structured, formal exercise in a gym. It absolutely included things like walking, roller skating, hiking, biking, and dancing…all of my favorites! I could definitely get on board with this!
Then I graduated. I spent the first few months looking for jobs in my field, and it was complete crickets. I started to contemplate getting a job in a factory again, just to survive, and really started regretting my decision to choose this field. Who was I to think that I could do something that I actually felt passionate about?
One day there was a small ad in the local paper for a part time job as a fitness coordinator for the local senior center. I applied for it, thinking a) I still wasn’t qualified and b) that even if I did get it, it would just be a stepping stone job. What I quickly learned was that I was probably over-qualified and it was, to date, my favorite job I’ve ever had. Not only did I lead fitness classes, but I learned how incredibly important regular body movement was in regards to living a long quality life. I wasn’t super thrilled about teaching fitness classes at first, but I was given (almost) complete creative control over them and soon developed several more classes, including a dance class! At the time of my departure there, I had created 7 different classes and was head over heels in love with exercise.
I left for a job that required me to sit all day at a computer. The first few weeks were kind of a nice break; I got to wear clothes other than leggings and t-shirts, feel like a grown up, and talk to people closer to my own age. But after a few weeks the downside of not exercising every day started to settle in…the aches and pains, the back aches from sitting all day, the headaches from staring at a screen too long, and even the feeling a little winded going up the stairs. This is what all the textbooks said would happen, but I still had a hard time believing that it actually happened in real life.
The struggle is real, and it continues today. I go through spurts of wanting to exercise, actually doing it…and then I fall out of it. We have weights, an elliptical, and all sorts of other gadgets set up in the basement, complete with a TV. But to actually go down there and use it? Such a struggle.
BECAUSE IT IS BORING.
Even though I know the benefits. Even though I know how much better I feel. Even though I know that my health depends on it.
I still won’t get into a routine of exercising daily.
What I do find myself doing no matter what…dancing. I will dance in the kitchen. I dance in the living room with the toddler. I dance in the car. I even find myself choreographing new dances and daydreaming about teaching dance again.
If I look back on my entire journey of life and look for one common theme, it is most clearly that I love to dance. Even without formal training, special equipment, or structure, dance has been a constant love of mine.
The moral of the story is this: if you find yourself struggling to fall into a routine of exercising, or sticking with it, DON’T DO IT.
Ask yourself instead: what did I like to do when I was a kid?
And then do that.
Maybe it is hula hooping, riding a bike, using the Skip-It, or even playing kickball. Find that thing, and just do that. If you actually enjoy what you’re doing you’re far more likely to continue doing it, and ultimately, that is the goal.
A body in motion stays in motion, a wise woman once taught me in a class that was required for my degree. And she couldn’t have been more right.
(Actual picture of me in middle school “cheer”.)
