
I like to exercise. I like the challenge, the sweat, the mental release, the physical results, the time to myself. I like everything about it -- practically.
What I don't like about exercise is the pressure to accomplish the feat over and over again for the rest of my life. For years, the pressure I put on myself was palpable. I thought about exercise all the time. I stressed about what to do and when to do it. I fought to convince my kids to climb into a double stroller long after they were too big to sit comfortably in the wobbly contraption and when I found time to exercise all by myself, I struggled with an overwhelming desire to spend quality time with my little boys. I felt rushed to complete my workouts -- because my kids were waiting, dinner was waiting, work was waiting.
I was faithful about exercising -- even through treatment for cancer -- because of my self-induced pressure and despite the stress and worry it caused me. And then something happened.
It was probably a combination of cancer and my relentless push for physical fitness that caused my body to crash. I became tired and exhausted and could barely lift my legs to walk up the neighborhood hills I typically conquered with ease. My oncologist told me to stop, to give my body a break, to let go of my high expectations. He advised me to exercise two to three times per week -- and that's it.
It took some time but I have finally embraced this approach. I have abandoned schedules and routines and plans and I now exercise when I can, when it fits into my day, when I really want to do it. My fitness trainer friend Fitz, a new blogger on
That's Fit, wrote in one of her first posts that we should all stop trying to get fit -- and we should just do it. "Don't wake up tomorrow with the idea of trying to go for a jog," she says." "Get up and go for a jog! Put it in your planner and make it happen."
Fitz might not like my approach, but I have stopped putting exercise on my planner. For me, this works. It takes away the pressure, the stress, the worry. It gives me peace to confront each day free of exercise anxiety. It makes me happy to tackle exercise on my own terms, without some preconceived notion of what I
should be doing.
I should share something else about myself. I am a perfectionist. I want everything to be just right. As child, I tore up drawings that may have had one stray mark. I wouldn't leave my house for school until my ponytails were flawless. My house is clean and neat, my toenails are pedicured and painted, my hair is styled just so. Perfectionism, sometimes just a step away from obsession, can be an unhealthy practice. And for me, exercise was becoming an emotionally unhealthy endeavor.
I am confident my perfectionist tendencies will keep me in the exercise loop for all of time. Just knowing I need exercise will propel me to conform. But I must say that I am so relieved to have let go of some of my exercise burden.
I like exercise. I really like it. And today, when I ran three miles -- because I had the time and felt up for the task -- it was refreshing, empowering, cleansing. I think it's the lack of pressure that allowed me to lose myself in the moment today. For me, letting go of exercise has lightened the load.