Over at Honoring Health, Christie had a nice post about not doing exercise unless it gives you joy. But what happens if there is no exercise that you find joyful?
Let's get this straight right upfront. I'm lazy. No, seriously. I am. I don't see it as a character flaw; it's just the way I am and I'm perfectly fine with that. I was when I was a scrawny little 4-year-old and I still am now that I'm 43 and not so scrawny. There are few things I love more than sleeping late, then after a little breakfast, spending all day with my butt planted firmly on the sofa while I watch tv (or read a book or surf the net). If I'm feeling particularly ambitious, I may even change out of my pajamas! To me, that's a beautiful day and it always has been.
Further complicating things, I have absolutely zero interest in or ability to participate in sports. I come from a family of serious athletes and yet, that gene seems to have completely passed me by. I'm the stereotypical last kid picked for every team growing up. After years of swimming and tennis lessons, the best thing I can say is that I wouldn't drown if you tossed me in the pool and I know which end of the racket is supposed to connect with the ball, even if mine rarely does. Basketball, volleyball, softball, soccer. Yep, I tried all those things and spent my time warming the bench because that whole eye-foot-hand coordination thing is just beyond me. Jogging or walking? Boring! Aerobics DVDs? Ugh! I don't like salt water or chlorine burning my eyes or getting up my nose. I don't like being hot and sweaty and out of breath. I don't like being dirty. I don't like nature. If I had access to any top secret information and some foreign agent wanted to force it out of me, the quickest way to do so would be to make me go on a hike. That's pure torture.
I think you get the drift.
I'm willing to believe that there's some activity out there that I might love and be good at, if only I could discover what it is. Who knows, maybe hang gliding is my thing! But after 43 years, that activity has not been revealed to me and it's sure not for lack of trying.
That said, after years of plodding along, I know what makes exercise tolerable for me. TV, gadgets, and a good playlist on my iPod are a start. But those things only distract me from how much I really want to be done. There are activities that I don't despise - yoga, spinning, boxing, weight training - but saying they bring me joy would be a big stretch. Also, after almost two and a half years of working out, consistently, once or twice a week with a personal trainer, I have a great appreciation for how I feel after exercising or how good it feels to finally have developed some small measure of strength. But even though I have great affection for my trainer and she makes working out probably as painless as it's possible to be and still be effective, there has never, not once, been a time when I didn't secretly hope as I was in my car driving to my appointment, that it would get cancelled at the last minute. There has never been a workout where I didn't have my eye on the clock, counting down the minutes until it was over. Never.
For me, exercise is kind of like flossing. I don't think I'll ever enjoy it, but I kind of like having teeth and not spending hours in the dentist's chair having the hygienist rooting around in my gyms with sharp metal implements like she's mining for gold while I screech in pain and drool blood. So I'll do it. Grudgingly, but I'll do it, recognizing that the benefits far outweigh the cost. Maybe through this intuitive eating business, I'll also discover some amazing activity that brings me this childlike joy that Christie talks about. I have to admit, it sounds kind of nice. But I won't hold my breath.
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