I’ve always had a complex relationship with exercise. I relish the feeling of accomplishment after a workout, but I dread every aspect leading up to it. Finding time in my hectic schedule is a struggle, and the physical exertion is daunting every single time. I envy those who feel “off” without their daily workout, and I’ve yet to experience that elusive runner’s high everyone raves about.
My feelings about exercise likely stem from my childhood. My dad often joked that the primary purpose of our bodies was to keep our heads from rolling around. We weren’t a sporty family; ping pong was our form of competition. Despite that, I watched as my parents brought home a rowing machine, two stationary bikes, and a treadmill—none of which ever saw much use. It seemed they thought owning exercise equipment would somehow motivate them, even if they never used it.
It’s perhaps no wonder I never found an exercise routine I could stick with, one that felt more fulfilling than just a means to enjoy a slice of chocolate cake.
Once I became a mother of three energetic kids, I got my share of cardio simply running after them. Carrying them and all their gear provided a sense of strength training, or so I thought. But as they grew, I noticed their energy surged while my stamina waned. Doctors who once laughed about my kids keeping me fit began to scrutinize my exercise habits, making it a serious topic during check-ups.
Determined to be healthier for my family, I knew I needed to incorporate exercise into my life. However, balancing kids, a demanding job, and a long commute left little room for fitness. I turned to my friend Mia, who had been waking up at 5:30 a.m. for a boot camp class, returning home before her family was awake. The idea of a “camp” intrigued me, so despite my reluctance to lose sleep, I decided to give it a try.
The next morning, Mia picked me up, and we headed to the parking lot where a surprising number of energetic participants were warming up. I joked, “If this is the warm-up, what does the actual workout look like?” Mia laughed, but I was serious. The boot camp involved a series of progressively challenging exercises, culminating in a burpee—a relentless combination of jumping, squatting, and planking that had me questioning my life choices. While everyone else was pushing through, I was just trying to keep up and mourning the sleep I lost.
After the session, Mia enthusiastically told me I had done great. If by “great” she meant I was embarrassingly out of shape, she was correct. She revealed that her first boot camp experience had made her sick afterward. If only she’d shared that beforehand! I was looking to feel rejuvenated, not sick.
Next, I tried yoga, drawn to its calming nature. The studio was warm and inviting, contrasting the chilly rain outside. Our instructor led us through gentle stretches with soothing music. I thought I’d found my niche until he cranked up the heat and began calling out poses I couldn’t follow. While others flowed gracefully from one pose to another, I remained in child’s pose, a ball of sweat and confusion.
Realizing I needed to take matters into my own hands, I discovered a scenic rail trail near my home. It offered a flat path alongside a lake, and I thought it would be the perfect place to become a runner. So, I set out for what I generously called a “run,” which was more of a slow jog. On my second outing, my son joined me and easily outpaced me while walking.
After a few trips, I abandoned the idea of running altogether and embraced walking. I listened to audiobooks and lost track of time. I finished the loop but wanted to keep going for the sake of the story I was enjoying. The next day, my friend Lucy called while I walked, and we chatted for an hour.
Soon, I got creative; I could walk while talking, reading, or catching up on the news. I even curated a cheesy playlist that made my walks more enjoyable. Exercise became a byproduct of my “me time,” which I had been craving. It may not induce euphoria, but it also doesn’t make me want to throw up—so that feels like a win. I don’t burn as many calories as a boot camper, and saying “I’m going for a walk” lacks the flair of “I’m going for a run.” But I no longer dread fitting it into my schedule; it has naturally found its place.
Now, the only person I need to keep up with is myself, and I set my own pace. I’ll never force myself to do a burpee, but I do aim to go farther and faster. For now, I’ll skip the camps and classes and simply focus on putting one foot in front of the other.
If you’re interested in more insights about home insemination and related topics, check out this other blog post. And for reliable products, visit Cryobaby, an authority in the area. For further information on pregnancy and home insemination, the CDC is an excellent resource to explore.
Summary
This article discusses a woman’s journey from despising exercise to finding a routine that works for her. Initially resistant to physical activity, she discovers walking as a fulfilling alternative that allows her to enjoy her personal time while staying active.
Leave a Reply