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I’ve Always Detested Exercise — Until Recently
by Sarah Parker
Updated: August 3, 2021
Originally Published: July 30, 2021
Courtesy of Sarah Parker
I’ve had a tumultuous relationship with exercise. I appreciate the feeling of accomplishment after a workout, yet I dread nearly everything else about it. I loathe trying to fit it into my hectic schedule. I despise how challenging it feels every single time. I resent not being one of those individuals who feels “off” without a workout, and I’ve never experienced that elusive rush of endorphins that supposedly brings a sense of euphoria. Why does the runner’s high always evade me?
My ambivalence toward exercise likely stems from my childhood. My father often remarked that “the primary purpose of the human body is to keep one’s head from rolling around on the ground.” We weren’t an athletic family; ping pong was the sport of choice for my parents.
Over the years, I witnessed a rowing machine, two stationary bikes, and a treadmill being brought into our home. Although I never saw them being used, I assume my parents believed being near exercise equipment would somehow benefit them. Owning the gear seemed to provide a psychological boost, if not a physical one.
Consequently, it’s not surprising that I never established a sustainable exercise routine—one that extended beyond merely being a means to an end, ideally one that involved chocolate cake.
When I became a mother of three energetic children, I found myself getting plenty of cardio from chasing after them. Carrying them and their numerous belongings surely counted as strength training, right?
However, as my kids grew older, I noticed their energy levels and my fatigue increasing in tandem. Doctors stopped chuckling at my claim that my children kept me fit and instead began to scrutinize how many minutes of exercise I engaged in weekly during check-ups. My primary care physician even demonstrated the perfect plank on the floor.
I realized I wanted to stay strong and healthy for my family, and I knew exercise was essential for tipping the scales in my favor. But with the kids, a demanding full-time job, and a lengthy commute, I struggled to find the time. I reached out to a friend, Lisa, who had mentioned attending a 5:30 AM boot camp, returning home before her family woke up. The idea of something called “camp” intrigued me. So, despite my reluctance to sacrifice an hour of sleep, I agreed to give it a shot.
The next morning, Lisa picked me up at 5:15 and drove us to a nearby parking lot, where a surprising number of seemingly energetic people were warming up by jogging laps. “Lisa, if this is the warmup,” I asked, “what on earth does the actual workout entail?”
She laughed; I was serious. Boot camp ended up being a series of progressively challenging exercises; you start with one, then add the next, until you feel like passing out. Each exercise was grueling, but none more so than the “burpee.” The name should have clued me in. The burpee requires jumping, squatting, planking, and possibly crying. It was dreadful. Everyone else was lunging and sprinting while I struggled to appear like I knew what I was doing at each station, silently mourning the hour of sleep I’d lost.
When the class ended, Lisa bounded over with a big smile, telling me I’d done great. If “great” meant, “Wow, I didn’t realize you were so out of shape, but at least you’re still standing,” then she was spot on. She later confessed that after her first boot camp, she’d gone home and thrown up. Really? It would have been nice to have that little detail beforehand. I was looking for rejuvenation, not regurgitation.
I opted to skip boot camp and try yoga instead; I liked the idea of something more relaxed and inward-focused. The class was held in a cozy studio, illuminated by LED candles that created a peaceful atmosphere. Outside was raw and rainy, but inside was warm and inviting, much more appealing than the chilly boot-camp parking lot.
Our instructor eased us into stretches with calming music and soothing words. “I can do this,” I thought. “I might even get a quick nap in.” But soon enough, he adjusted the thermostat and called out poses that everyone else seemed to understand: “updog, downdog, cat, cow, warrior II.” I barely grasped one before he was on to the next. The strength and flexibility of my classmates were impressive, as was the sweat dripping off them. Meanwhile, I was still in child’s pose, curled up and pretending to exercise. I was a hot mess—quite literally.
Realizing I needed to take a different approach, I discovered a beautiful rail trail near my home that winds alongside a lake. It’s completely flat, and I thought it would be the perfect place to start running. I’ve always liked the idea of casually saying, “I’m just going for a run; be home soon.” So off I went for my so-called “run,” which was a generous description of my incredibly slow jog. During my second outing, I convinced my son to join me, and he outpaced me—while walking.
On my third attempt, I decided to embrace the notion that I was simply going for a brisk walk rather than pretending to run. I listened to an audiobook I had downloaded for my commute, and something remarkable happened: I lost track of time.
I completed the trail but hadn’t finished the book, so I reserved the rest for my next day’s walk, giving myself an incentive to return. As I started again the next day, my friend Mia called, and I ended up walking and talking for an hour.
Soon, I got creative. I could walk while chatting, reading, or catching up on the news. I even curated a personalized playlist filled with all the cheesy songs I secretly loved, marching to the beat of my own soundtrack.
Exercise transformed into a delightful byproduct of the “me time” I’d been craving. While it doesn’t make me feel euphoric, it also doesn’t make me feel like throwing up—so that’s a win. I may not 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 need to force exercise into my to-do list; it naturally fits in.
I enjoy that I only need to keep pace with myself, making my own choices along the way. I’ll never challenge myself to do a burpee, but I do strive to go farther and faster. For now, I’ll set aside the camps and classes and simply put one foot in front of the other.
This article was originally published on July 30, 2021. If you’re interested in learning more about home insemination, check out this post on intracervical insemination.
Summary:
The author shares her long-standing aversion to exercise, stemming from her upbringing and lack of athletic family background. After trying various workouts, including boot camp and yoga, she discovers that walking—combined with audiobooks and music—provides her with the personal time she craves without the pressure of traditional exercise. This newfound approach to fitness allows her to enjoy movement at her own pace.