I haven’t always believed in the power of exercise, it was more the opposite, in fact. I was the awkward girl who always got picked last for the team during PE, it was well known I was NOT athletic. It wasn’t just that I had no skills, but also no desire. I could never understand when they said “Keep your eye on the ball”. How the heck are you supposed to do that when it’s flying at you at high speed? Running was always a hated activity, I would beg my mom to write me a note on Fridays excusing me from the laps around the field that were a scheduled part of our physical education. I saw myself as chubby (though I wasn’t), unfit (which I was), and NOT the athletic type.
In my early 20’s I made a brief attempt at riding a bike, which resulted in a spill that left me with road rash on my knees and elbows, effectively curing me of the brief desire to change my image of myself. I set myself firmly back in the “unathletic” category. It wasn’t until my 30’s that I discovered the amazing life changing magic of working out. I can’t remember what inspired me other than a spark of interest in doing something for myself. I signed up at the local community center for an aerobics class and as luck would have it, I found the perfect instructor for me. She was energetic, young, and super fit. Her classes were full of people (mainly women, with a smattering of men) at all different levels of fitness, and she played amazing music as she motivated us to kick and stretch and work our abs to UB40’s Red Red Wine. As I entered my 40’s I was bitten by the desire to run. I began reading about running, and actually began to believe that it was something I could do. I started slow, and before you knew it I was hooked. I was addicted to the endorphins and the schedule I made for myself and the goals of running longer and longer distances. I completed a couple of half marathons and was having fun competing with myself. Then I broke my ankle.
The recovery for the broken ankle was one of the most challenging times of personal growth for me in my life. I was abruptly reminded to slow down as I was restricted to crutches and nothing but rest for several weeks. The independence I thrived on was gone, I could not drive myself anywhere, and my running career was over, at least for a while. What took its place finally is cycling. First on a tandem since I was scared to get back in the saddle, and now with my own mountain bike on steeper and steeper hills.
I just read an article about Richard Branson, the incredibly successful entrepreneur and billionaire where he was asked how to be more productive. His answer confirmed what I believe to my core, two short words that for me make the difference between a good day and an outstanding one. There is nothing like the feeling after you have done something super hard and worked your body, the one and only one we get this time around. It is the perfect way to gain a different perspective on life. “Work Out.”