I was always a fat kid but also always very athletic, and I was lucky enough to have mostly good coaches and mentors, so for me sports were inherently subversive and revolutionary-feeling: like, everything and everyone else in the world was giving me a constant barrage of messaging that my body was worthless trash, but I knew *for a fact* that they were wrong, because a home run is a home run no matter what you look like rounding the bases, you know? And that's something my body could do, if I gave it enough practice to develop the skill. But I've known a lot of people, mostly female friends, for whom athletic endeavors felt like nothing but torment.
One of my favorite parts of getting older has been slowly introducing my non-sporty friends to some gentle sport-adjacent fun activities. It's been largely through their kids, now that I'm the Designated Sports Auntie—e.g., the moms want to be able to play catch with the kids when I'm not there, so I show them some basic skills—but also occasionally things like a friend hearing me sigh, "I can't wait to go smash some balls," after a hard day at work, and immediately going I ASSUME THAT'S NOT WHAT I THINK IT IS BUT EITHER WAY I'M IN and tagging along to the batting cages :) I've actually started bringing three or four previously sport-wary friends to the cages and offering a range of coaching upon request (anywhere from "Don't tell me a damn thing, I just want to swing this cudgel around and I don't care if it makes contact" to "How do I F*CKING CRUSH IT, teach me your sportsball ways").
So I guess the form of athleticism that I'm growing into is... coaching? Unexpected, but fun!
School left me with the belief that fitness and sport was the same thing. And definitely for other people as I had no natural athleticism or co-ordination. I was always picked last for teams. Along with coming from an immigrant culture who had no concept of walking for leisure, in my adulthood I barely moved. I fell into running via taking up canicrossing for the sake of bonding with my dog in my early thirties. I tried a couple of runs by myself in a vague belief I should be doing exercise. Did not get very far - a few hundred meters and I was puffed out. My belief that fitness was for other people was so ingrained that I would not wear running gear as that's for 'real' fitness people. Until a jog leader gently told me cotton t-shirts were not a good idea in cold rain. I discovered running in a group is completely different from running by yourself - which is counter intuitive given it's the same simple motion. Something about going slower in a group, pacing better, having others to keep you going. Through the kindness of others I was introduced to trail running. Due to my immigrant background, this was almost literally a whole new world opening up. I tagged along, the runs got longer, I got more trainers. One day I was part of a relay team doing an ultradistance route and ran alongside ultrarunners. I realised they weren't skinny muscular folk. They were normal. They were walking. Intrigued I signed up next year to do the race as an ultrarunner. And it's wonderful. The races in Scotland are often run by informal organisations with one or two folk and whole lot of volunteer marshals, so it's a real informal, welcoming community (there are ultra races run by event companies - it's a different vibe I feel). You don't have to be 'athletic' you just need to keep on going. I can so do that! Due to the pace you meet allsorts on the route and even a shy person like me can chat to people. Due to the risk of injuries as the longer you go, I signed up for a gym. Something I could never imagine doing in the past. I discovered a love of strength training. I have better eating and sleeping habits now to help with recovery and training. I feel so much more comfortable with my body and who I am. I wonder how many people miss out on this due to being scarred by school?
I highly, highly recommend Casey Johnston's "She's a Beast" newsletter (she used to write the Ask a Swole Woman column) for content related to exercise (in her case, strength training) that is very much from this kind of perspective, where exercise is a way to discover capabilities you didn't know you had, and maybe you even resisted the idea that you had it.
Something I appreciate about her is the way she's aware of the sensitivities people (usually women) have about diet culture and gym culture and talk about overcoming them in a really matter-of-fact but supportive way. Like, in order to build muscle, you have to get a certain amount of protein in a day, and that IS going to involve counting food-related things while you build the habit of eating this way, which can be hard for people, but here are some ways to do that to make sure you're getting enough of the food that you need without obsessing about it or feeling bad that you aren't doing something "right" or whatever.
Early this morning, as I was having my coffee and watching the sun come up, I started crying. And I said out loud, "If people tell you that you are shit enough times, eventually you start to believe them." Which I'm pretty sure is my take on a similar quote from a movie or etc.... BUT my point is that you wrote this: "When someone tells you you’re an athlete every day for two and a half years, at some point you start to believe it."
And that's the thing I hope we all can learn... There's so much to undo from what we have been taught was true. And we are trying to undo it while it continues to happen and often gets worse.
In a therapy session once, when I was lamenting my weight struggles and the like, I said, "I'm just not outdoorsy. I even have a dish towel that says, 'I'm outdoorsy in that I like to sit on patios and drink beer." And he said, "Well, as long as you read that dishtowel every day, that will continue to be your truth."
Thank you for sharing your truth, as always - and as it evolves. It's nice to know we are in the messy middle, as I call it, with people we cherish.
This is me but with becoming a morning person. My whole life I was told, and told others, that I am a night owl. It turns out when left to my own devices and not rigid school or work schedules, and when I totally abandon alarms, I naturally wake up early and have so much energy, including creative energy. This may be an aging thing, fine, but when a major part of your identity has been that you do not function before a certain time of day, or that you must function best at night, it can be jarring to meet another side of yourself. Enjoy!
I danced seriously enough as a kid that by high school I had dropped all the other sports I played - soccer, softball, basketball, gymnastics - but puberty made it clear that while I was a reasonable ballet dancer, my body was Very Wrong for it in all the ways a ballet dancer can have an incorrect body. I knew there was nothing I could do to my body to make it good enough for ballet, though I loved it, and so as an adult, I never really got to know it and its capabilities beyond the ways it limited my ballet, and pushing it to the point of various different injuries and ailments in pursuit of being closer to an OK ballet body. I kept dancing through college and grad school, always as an enthusiastic amateur whose body sticks out, even in a ballet class of other adult amateurs.
On the other hand, I really enjoyed reading/secretly admiring Casey Johnson's Swole Lady in it's many forms but knew I was not a Gym Person. But, when she put out a "couch to barbell" program last fall I finally got up the courage to try going to the gym and lifting and putting down increasingly heavy objects.
I really love it? In a bunch of different ways - getting stronger, yes, but also the freedom to move and use and load my body without any concern for the aesthetics of how it is moving, not trying to disguise the fact that it is working very hard at doing a thing, and not trying to please anyone or get corrections that I should be honored to receive. I go to the gym, I work hard and grunt and sweat to hoist a thing over my head, or pick it up off the ground, and then I spend the rest of the day knowing I am a little stronger and my body can do a little more, a little easier today than yesterday.
you caveated it well ("Maybe" "some people") so this isn't meant to invalidate the point, just to respond with my own experience -- but to me, the comparison to giving birth felt really out of place given the positive tone of the rest of the piece.
Giving birth made me feel older, creakier, and more worn out. I have been unable to work out for months, which is really challenging as I take a lot of enjoyment in that. It IS amazing what we can put our bodies through and survive, and some people DO have empowering birth experiences. But for many people, birth can feel more like running a marathon you didn't/couldn't train for, with varying degrees of the-bad-kind-of-painful recovery (tears, surgery scars, PPD, other trauma, etc).
I was also a very non-athletic kid, I think largely because it was never fun — just embarrassing, awkward, and difficult. I spent my adolescence and early adulthood feeling like I was failing to properly perform womanhood because I wouldn’t go to the gym and so wasn’t toned. I tried running and hated it. Then, about three years ago, I started pole dance and fitness classes. I just wanted to feel sexy, and hadn’t anticipated how much stronger I’d become or how much I’d enjoy the challenge of tricks. I started doing two or three classes a week and progressed quickly. I felt fantastic — strong, confident, graceful — and the doctors treating me for chronic pain and joint problems were thrilled I was exercising. I danced around our kitchen and tested my flexibility on the bannister.
Then, lockdown. The studio closed and I miserably tried to fill the new void with yoga and dance videos on Youtube. It didn’t really work. When the studio opened again a few months later, I was so excited to be back that I started going five days a week, usually for two back to back classes each day. I didn’t care that we had to wear masks or that the doors and windows were open to the July heat. I was just happy to be moving again. Again, I progressed quickly and pushed myself past limits I hadn’t even really known I had. Predictably, the increase in training led to an injury in fairly short order. I now couldn’t train at all really, due to shooting pain in my wrist any time I tried to use it. I complained, went back to doing gentle yoga in the living room, and waited the four-to-six weeks for my wrist to heal.
The cycle repeated after I went back. This time it was my shoulder. Sitting at the kitchen table over dinner one night, I was whining about how long I’d have to be out this time. My husband, a former USA swimmer, asked, “Do you ever take breaks? Like, a week off every couple of months just to recharge?” No, I didn’t. Why would I do that? I couldn’t get better if I took breaks, I thought. My husband looked at me and said, as though it was obvious, “Claire, you’re an athlete. Your body needs rest days AND the occasional break.”
The concept that I — a very-not-athletic child, who had built an adult self-image of hating exercise — could be “an athlete” was stunning. I spent the weeks I was out for that shoulder injury considering what my husband had said. For so long, I viewed my body as an antagonist, something unreliable at best and actively malicious at worst. It’s a strange shift to suddenly see that same body as a thing that allows me to do something I enjoy, and that I therefore want to care for. I haven’t had a serious injury since, and I’m getting better at recognizing my limits and respecting them. I’m still coming to terms with the idea that rest and breaks are not only okay (thanks, Protestant work ethic!), but required. I still tell people that I don’t like exercise, I like pole. I still struggle to view myself as an athlete. It gets a little easier all the time, though, and in the mean time, I get to keep doing the thing that makes me light up inside. That’s enough for now.
This piece really resonated with me, as do everyone’s comments! My feeling of being un-athletic started in elementary school gym class. I didn’t understand rules of the games, I hated running. Huge anxiety and insecurity about this through high school. In college, I started jogging, mainly fueled by a desire to be thinner. In my 20s, I got into group fitness classes, and started to really enjoy working out/running - feeling fit just for the sake of health and well-being. I never thought I’d be that person, and now I’ve been that person over a decade.
I think hand-eye coordination is my biggest “natural” weakness - at this point, I don’t have the desire to develop that skill, it’s just not fun for me. When you’re a kid, so much of being active is about ball sports, which require coordination, other kids, being on the spot - things that are great but not for me when it comes to being physical. I do hope to expose my daughter to sports (and other movement) in a truly fun, recreational way. Maybe she’ll have the chance of developing those skills that felt so uncomfortable for me.
I’m 10 months postpartum, and I’m so glad I’m used to doing a quick Peloton strength class at home… life is busy, and I really do believe it’s the thought that counts with exercise - just do SOMETHING! Walking counts too!
I really appreciate this, on multiple levels. I was not an athletic child at all. I enjoyed horseback riding, but couldn't even throw a ball in dodgeball. Gym was my worst nightmare.
About 4 years ago I began getting serious about my overall health. . Today I've been maintaining half that for nearly a year. I didn't start incorporating exercise of any kind until a year or so into the process but now I can't imagine my life without it. While I can't run (it makes me cough for days *shrug emoji* ) I have fallen in love with boxing and strength training.
I still do a double take when someone describes me as an athlete, because it is so far outside the view I had of myself for most of my life.
Really loved this article. I’ve had a similar relationship to exercise (and particularly running), going from hating it to relying on it as my get-away headspace. Thank you for sharing this very relatable and reflective piece.
Also, I will be running the Portland Half! I ran the New York Marathon and realized that the half distance is definitely more of my jam.
I’m not a runner and I am not interested in being one. I’ve seen all kinds of my contemporaries who were avid runners need hip and knee surgeries, and no thanks for me. But I am a complete advocate that everyone would benefit from some kind of movement, whether it’s walking, or golf, or dancing or just kicking their legs when they sit in a chair. My movement is Pilates and walking. I am actually good at Pilates (I can do some of the Advanced exercises) and I love to walk. There is a right kind of movement for everyone, and the trick is to simply keep doing it.
Yes! I so relate to this. I was in swim team in high school but mainly for resume building and the idea I should lose weight. I came in last in just about every race. I also never considered myself an athlete despite dancing, horseback riding, and the swimming.
Recently I’ve gotten back to swimming and decided to take on open water swimming this summer. I signed up for a one-mile swim in august as a motivator; I just did a half-mile open water swim last week. It’s a funny thing where I am very slow compared to people who take swimming seriously, but my husband and non swimming friends are like “you’re going to swim all that way?!”
This is totally me as well, where I've been doing consistent morning runs for the last ~10 years or so, and the breakthrough for me was to just... do it for myself and my happiness. No other goals. No one to impress. Just the resilient consistency and fresh air and green scenery.
I do also feel like I'm so at-peace with this slow-plodding approach that I can find it jarring when I encounter people who are still mega-competitive (or even just-a-little-competitive), like running is one of those macho topics where, if people are into that side of things, there are a lot of Big Stories to tell and lots of comparisons, and that part of it is just so off-putting to me. Like, no worries, you do you, but I'm not here to justify my approach. I love what I do and it's good enough for me.
Gym was absolutely the worse for me in school and the Presidential Fitness Test was humiliating.
The thing no one told me ever as a kid is that you can start bad at something and work on getting better at it. You aren't just born running a mile--you can work your way up to a mile.
When I got older, I started working out to lose weight because I was heavy and unhealthy. I started running half marathons and marathons because I worked for a marathon as their marketing director and, from there, it turned into a thing I do in my life almost every day (with rest days).
I was fully an indoor kid. Now I run marathons, relays, do CrossFit, cycling, yoga. Fitness is my happy place now and it has nothing to do with losing weight anymore. It's something I find joy and contentment in. There's nothing more exhilarating than finishing your leg of a relay or lifting a heavy deadlift.
The Quiet Glory of Aging into Athleticism
I was always a fat kid but also always very athletic, and I was lucky enough to have mostly good coaches and mentors, so for me sports were inherently subversive and revolutionary-feeling: like, everything and everyone else in the world was giving me a constant barrage of messaging that my body was worthless trash, but I knew *for a fact* that they were wrong, because a home run is a home run no matter what you look like rounding the bases, you know? And that's something my body could do, if I gave it enough practice to develop the skill. But I've known a lot of people, mostly female friends, for whom athletic endeavors felt like nothing but torment.
One of my favorite parts of getting older has been slowly introducing my non-sporty friends to some gentle sport-adjacent fun activities. It's been largely through their kids, now that I'm the Designated Sports Auntie—e.g., the moms want to be able to play catch with the kids when I'm not there, so I show them some basic skills—but also occasionally things like a friend hearing me sigh, "I can't wait to go smash some balls," after a hard day at work, and immediately going I ASSUME THAT'S NOT WHAT I THINK IT IS BUT EITHER WAY I'M IN and tagging along to the batting cages :) I've actually started bringing three or four previously sport-wary friends to the cages and offering a range of coaching upon request (anywhere from "Don't tell me a damn thing, I just want to swing this cudgel around and I don't care if it makes contact" to "How do I F*CKING CRUSH IT, teach me your sportsball ways").
So I guess the form of athleticism that I'm growing into is... coaching? Unexpected, but fun!
Just an overarching reminder here that I should have put up top: please avoid equating weight or body size with health and no weight numbers please!
School left me with the belief that fitness and sport was the same thing. And definitely for other people as I had no natural athleticism or co-ordination. I was always picked last for teams. Along with coming from an immigrant culture who had no concept of walking for leisure, in my adulthood I barely moved. I fell into running via taking up canicrossing for the sake of bonding with my dog in my early thirties. I tried a couple of runs by myself in a vague belief I should be doing exercise. Did not get very far - a few hundred meters and I was puffed out. My belief that fitness was for other people was so ingrained that I would not wear running gear as that's for 'real' fitness people. Until a jog leader gently told me cotton t-shirts were not a good idea in cold rain. I discovered running in a group is completely different from running by yourself - which is counter intuitive given it's the same simple motion. Something about going slower in a group, pacing better, having others to keep you going. Through the kindness of others I was introduced to trail running. Due to my immigrant background, this was almost literally a whole new world opening up. I tagged along, the runs got longer, I got more trainers. One day I was part of a relay team doing an ultradistance route and ran alongside ultrarunners. I realised they weren't skinny muscular folk. They were normal. They were walking. Intrigued I signed up next year to do the race as an ultrarunner. And it's wonderful. The races in Scotland are often run by informal organisations with one or two folk and whole lot of volunteer marshals, so it's a real informal, welcoming community (there are ultra races run by event companies - it's a different vibe I feel). You don't have to be 'athletic' you just need to keep on going. I can so do that! Due to the pace you meet allsorts on the route and even a shy person like me can chat to people. Due to the risk of injuries as the longer you go, I signed up for a gym. Something I could never imagine doing in the past. I discovered a love of strength training. I have better eating and sleeping habits now to help with recovery and training. I feel so much more comfortable with my body and who I am. I wonder how many people miss out on this due to being scarred by school?
I highly, highly recommend Casey Johnston's "She's a Beast" newsletter (she used to write the Ask a Swole Woman column) for content related to exercise (in her case, strength training) that is very much from this kind of perspective, where exercise is a way to discover capabilities you didn't know you had, and maybe you even resisted the idea that you had it.
Something I appreciate about her is the way she's aware of the sensitivities people (usually women) have about diet culture and gym culture and talk about overcoming them in a really matter-of-fact but supportive way. Like, in order to build muscle, you have to get a certain amount of protein in a day, and that IS going to involve counting food-related things while you build the habit of eating this way, which can be hard for people, but here are some ways to do that to make sure you're getting enough of the food that you need without obsessing about it or feeling bad that you aren't doing something "right" or whatever.
Early this morning, as I was having my coffee and watching the sun come up, I started crying. And I said out loud, "If people tell you that you are shit enough times, eventually you start to believe them." Which I'm pretty sure is my take on a similar quote from a movie or etc.... BUT my point is that you wrote this: "When someone tells you you’re an athlete every day for two and a half years, at some point you start to believe it."
And that's the thing I hope we all can learn... There's so much to undo from what we have been taught was true. And we are trying to undo it while it continues to happen and often gets worse.
In a therapy session once, when I was lamenting my weight struggles and the like, I said, "I'm just not outdoorsy. I even have a dish towel that says, 'I'm outdoorsy in that I like to sit on patios and drink beer." And he said, "Well, as long as you read that dishtowel every day, that will continue to be your truth."
Thank you for sharing your truth, as always - and as it evolves. It's nice to know we are in the messy middle, as I call it, with people we cherish.
This is me but with becoming a morning person. My whole life I was told, and told others, that I am a night owl. It turns out when left to my own devices and not rigid school or work schedules, and when I totally abandon alarms, I naturally wake up early and have so much energy, including creative energy. This may be an aging thing, fine, but when a major part of your identity has been that you do not function before a certain time of day, or that you must function best at night, it can be jarring to meet another side of yourself. Enjoy!
I danced seriously enough as a kid that by high school I had dropped all the other sports I played - soccer, softball, basketball, gymnastics - but puberty made it clear that while I was a reasonable ballet dancer, my body was Very Wrong for it in all the ways a ballet dancer can have an incorrect body. I knew there was nothing I could do to my body to make it good enough for ballet, though I loved it, and so as an adult, I never really got to know it and its capabilities beyond the ways it limited my ballet, and pushing it to the point of various different injuries and ailments in pursuit of being closer to an OK ballet body. I kept dancing through college and grad school, always as an enthusiastic amateur whose body sticks out, even in a ballet class of other adult amateurs.
On the other hand, I really enjoyed reading/secretly admiring Casey Johnson's Swole Lady in it's many forms but knew I was not a Gym Person. But, when she put out a "couch to barbell" program last fall I finally got up the courage to try going to the gym and lifting and putting down increasingly heavy objects.
I really love it? In a bunch of different ways - getting stronger, yes, but also the freedom to move and use and load my body without any concern for the aesthetics of how it is moving, not trying to disguise the fact that it is working very hard at doing a thing, and not trying to please anyone or get corrections that I should be honored to receive. I go to the gym, I work hard and grunt and sweat to hoist a thing over my head, or pick it up off the ground, and then I spend the rest of the day knowing I am a little stronger and my body can do a little more, a little easier today than yesterday.
you caveated it well ("Maybe" "some people") so this isn't meant to invalidate the point, just to respond with my own experience -- but to me, the comparison to giving birth felt really out of place given the positive tone of the rest of the piece.
Giving birth made me feel older, creakier, and more worn out. I have been unable to work out for months, which is really challenging as I take a lot of enjoyment in that. It IS amazing what we can put our bodies through and survive, and some people DO have empowering birth experiences. But for many people, birth can feel more like running a marathon you didn't/couldn't train for, with varying degrees of the-bad-kind-of-painful recovery (tears, surgery scars, PPD, other trauma, etc).
I was also a very non-athletic kid, I think largely because it was never fun — just embarrassing, awkward, and difficult. I spent my adolescence and early adulthood feeling like I was failing to properly perform womanhood because I wouldn’t go to the gym and so wasn’t toned. I tried running and hated it. Then, about three years ago, I started pole dance and fitness classes. I just wanted to feel sexy, and hadn’t anticipated how much stronger I’d become or how much I’d enjoy the challenge of tricks. I started doing two or three classes a week and progressed quickly. I felt fantastic — strong, confident, graceful — and the doctors treating me for chronic pain and joint problems were thrilled I was exercising. I danced around our kitchen and tested my flexibility on the bannister.
Then, lockdown. The studio closed and I miserably tried to fill the new void with yoga and dance videos on Youtube. It didn’t really work. When the studio opened again a few months later, I was so excited to be back that I started going five days a week, usually for two back to back classes each day. I didn’t care that we had to wear masks or that the doors and windows were open to the July heat. I was just happy to be moving again. Again, I progressed quickly and pushed myself past limits I hadn’t even really known I had. Predictably, the increase in training led to an injury in fairly short order. I now couldn’t train at all really, due to shooting pain in my wrist any time I tried to use it. I complained, went back to doing gentle yoga in the living room, and waited the four-to-six weeks for my wrist to heal.
The cycle repeated after I went back. This time it was my shoulder. Sitting at the kitchen table over dinner one night, I was whining about how long I’d have to be out this time. My husband, a former USA swimmer, asked, “Do you ever take breaks? Like, a week off every couple of months just to recharge?” No, I didn’t. Why would I do that? I couldn’t get better if I took breaks, I thought. My husband looked at me and said, as though it was obvious, “Claire, you’re an athlete. Your body needs rest days AND the occasional break.”
The concept that I — a very-not-athletic child, who had built an adult self-image of hating exercise — could be “an athlete” was stunning. I spent the weeks I was out for that shoulder injury considering what my husband had said. For so long, I viewed my body as an antagonist, something unreliable at best and actively malicious at worst. It’s a strange shift to suddenly see that same body as a thing that allows me to do something I enjoy, and that I therefore want to care for. I haven’t had a serious injury since, and I’m getting better at recognizing my limits and respecting them. I’m still coming to terms with the idea that rest and breaks are not only okay (thanks, Protestant work ethic!), but required. I still tell people that I don’t like exercise, I like pole. I still struggle to view myself as an athlete. It gets a little easier all the time, though, and in the mean time, I get to keep doing the thing that makes me light up inside. That’s enough for now.
This piece really resonated with me, as do everyone’s comments! My feeling of being un-athletic started in elementary school gym class. I didn’t understand rules of the games, I hated running. Huge anxiety and insecurity about this through high school. In college, I started jogging, mainly fueled by a desire to be thinner. In my 20s, I got into group fitness classes, and started to really enjoy working out/running - feeling fit just for the sake of health and well-being. I never thought I’d be that person, and now I’ve been that person over a decade.
I think hand-eye coordination is my biggest “natural” weakness - at this point, I don’t have the desire to develop that skill, it’s just not fun for me. When you’re a kid, so much of being active is about ball sports, which require coordination, other kids, being on the spot - things that are great but not for me when it comes to being physical. I do hope to expose my daughter to sports (and other movement) in a truly fun, recreational way. Maybe she’ll have the chance of developing those skills that felt so uncomfortable for me.
I’m 10 months postpartum, and I’m so glad I’m used to doing a quick Peloton strength class at home… life is busy, and I really do believe it’s the thought that counts with exercise - just do SOMETHING! Walking counts too!
I really appreciate this, on multiple levels. I was not an athletic child at all. I enjoyed horseback riding, but couldn't even throw a ball in dodgeball. Gym was my worst nightmare.
About 4 years ago I began getting serious about my overall health. . Today I've been maintaining half that for nearly a year. I didn't start incorporating exercise of any kind until a year or so into the process but now I can't imagine my life without it. While I can't run (it makes me cough for days *shrug emoji* ) I have fallen in love with boxing and strength training.
I still do a double take when someone describes me as an athlete, because it is so far outside the view I had of myself for most of my life.
Really loved this article. I’ve had a similar relationship to exercise (and particularly running), going from hating it to relying on it as my get-away headspace. Thank you for sharing this very relatable and reflective piece.
Also, I will be running the Portland Half! I ran the New York Marathon and realized that the half distance is definitely more of my jam.
I’m not a runner and I am not interested in being one. I’ve seen all kinds of my contemporaries who were avid runners need hip and knee surgeries, and no thanks for me. But I am a complete advocate that everyone would benefit from some kind of movement, whether it’s walking, or golf, or dancing or just kicking their legs when they sit in a chair. My movement is Pilates and walking. I am actually good at Pilates (I can do some of the Advanced exercises) and I love to walk. There is a right kind of movement for everyone, and the trick is to simply keep doing it.
Yes! I so relate to this. I was in swim team in high school but mainly for resume building and the idea I should lose weight. I came in last in just about every race. I also never considered myself an athlete despite dancing, horseback riding, and the swimming.
Recently I’ve gotten back to swimming and decided to take on open water swimming this summer. I signed up for a one-mile swim in august as a motivator; I just did a half-mile open water swim last week. It’s a funny thing where I am very slow compared to people who take swimming seriously, but my husband and non swimming friends are like “you’re going to swim all that way?!”
This is totally me as well, where I've been doing consistent morning runs for the last ~10 years or so, and the breakthrough for me was to just... do it for myself and my happiness. No other goals. No one to impress. Just the resilient consistency and fresh air and green scenery.
I do also feel like I'm so at-peace with this slow-plodding approach that I can find it jarring when I encounter people who are still mega-competitive (or even just-a-little-competitive), like running is one of those macho topics where, if people are into that side of things, there are a lot of Big Stories to tell and lots of comparisons, and that part of it is just so off-putting to me. Like, no worries, you do you, but I'm not here to justify my approach. I love what I do and it's good enough for me.
Gym was absolutely the worse for me in school and the Presidential Fitness Test was humiliating.
The thing no one told me ever as a kid is that you can start bad at something and work on getting better at it. You aren't just born running a mile--you can work your way up to a mile.
When I got older, I started working out to lose weight because I was heavy and unhealthy. I started running half marathons and marathons because I worked for a marathon as their marketing director and, from there, it turned into a thing I do in my life almost every day (with rest days).
I was fully an indoor kid. Now I run marathons, relays, do CrossFit, cycling, yoga. Fitness is my happy place now and it has nothing to do with losing weight anymore. It's something I find joy and contentment in. There's nothing more exhilarating than finishing your leg of a relay or lifting a heavy deadlift.