How did I get here?  How can you get somewhere?

Recently I asked my Facebook tribe for feedback on what they wanted to read.  I enjoyed the responses and plan to slowly make my way through most of the list.  Today I’ll be focusing on this group from one reader:

How did you make exercise a part of your everyday life?

What motivates you to make the time to consistently exercise?

What steps did you take?

Frank answer:  I don’t have a great story.  Some people have a significant turning point in their health journey.   Perhaps a doctor puts the fear of God in them, or they get sick.  Maybe they lose a loved one and want to move in honor of them.  The possibilities are endless.  Let me be honest, those stories are more motivational that what I’m about to reveal in my personal journey.

While my journey is less remarkable, it may be more relatable.

How did I get from my once-a-week dance classes to engaging in some form of exercise most days of the week?  Gradually.

I remember trying to run in high school.  I have a vivid memory of putting a CD into my cumbersome Sony anti-vibration CD Walkman.  Holding it between my thumb and pinky finger, I set off to run around the block.  Three houses later, I slowed to a walk.  I had a hard time breathing, and my dance background got the best of me as I tried to pace myself with the quick beat of the song.  I hated, HATED, it.  A few attempts later, I quit.

What I really wanted to do was try the fitness classes at the new, state-of-the-art gym my dad was a member of.  He acquiesced, kindly paid the additional fee, and I nervously walked into a step class full of thirty other women.  

A quick time-out:  This was the early 1990s.  Step aerobics was the hottest trend and thong leotards accompanied it.  Thankfully I have no social media documentation of the ridiculous outfits I wore.  Blue thong, black biker shorts and big bangs.  Stunning combination.  It was something like this (shudder):

My first step (no pun intended) was experimenting with and embracing a new form of movement.  No one dragged me to the class or gave me an incentive to go.  I had to take ownership of my actions.  My best decision was to walk in the room with a friend.  When the instructor asked if she had any new attendees, it was easy to give the limp, half-hand-raise with my friend next to me, doing the same.

Thus began my love of group fitness.  It was so energizing having all those bodies working together.  Their body shapes and thong color varied, and the class didn’t always go in the same direction, but having a common goal was invigorating.

I continued with classes through college, attending 2-3 times a week.  That’s all I did, if you don’t count the march around campus attending classes and briskly heading back for a 30-minute nap.

Once I entered the workforce, I attempted running again, which I discuss here.  Meh.  It didn’t last long.

Then I found my sweet spot, the YMCA a few blocks from my office.  The facility had fitness classes strategically scheduled at 5:15pm; just enough time to get off work, walk over, change clothes and enter the room.  This convenience was a critical step.  If it’s logistically difficult, it won’t happen.  I found classes I loved, like kickboxing, cardio/strength combo, and amateur boxing. Thankfully the thong trend had fizzled by then.  I started with two classes a week, and worked my way to attending Monday – Thursday.  It became part of my routine and I knew not to schedule anything in the evening before 6:30pm.  Of course, I negated everything I did on Fridays when my husband and gorged on chips, salsa and margaritas at a Tex-Mex restaurant, but that’s the kind of thing you can get away with in your 20s.  

I cherished the YMCA, the employees, and friendships I made.   My great-uncle was also a member there, and memories running into him make me smile.  This guy was the epitome of a healthy lifestyle.  He was pushing 90 years old, still went to the gym three times a week and loved it when I (gently) punched his rock-hard abs. How did he have those at 90 yet I couldn’t get them at 25?

My membership ended abruptly when the next phase of my life entered:  Motherhood.  My husband and I made the choice for me to stay at home, so the drive downtown to a gym with no childcare was out of the question.

Once I had a baby, and all the isolation that comes with newborns, I had two lifelines:  1) a fitness studio for pre- and post- natal women, and 2) a stroller that kept the baby secure while I walked.  Both got me out of the my house in between long nursing sessions.  Walking gave me a desperately needed opportunity to chat with friends.  My Winston Churchill look-alike could stare at something beyond the four walls of the living room. It was a win-win.

That lifeline became a daily routine. When we moved 500 miles away from family and friends, getting out with my little guy also helped me meet new neighbors and create new relationships.

When one baby turned into two, they both seemed to need the walks as much as I did.  Well, most days.  We certainly had our moments where we all ended up in tears after a mile.  

Walking turned to short bouts of running with a double stroller and a dog when I was ready for more intensity. And by short bouts, I mean run one block, walk six.  Over the course of months (years? It’s all such a blur), I ran more and walked less.

Sometimes it was humorously counterproductive. When they were toddlers, I used to run and push them to the donut shop a mile and a half from my house.  There I purchased a bag of donut holes for them to smear all over their face while I ran back.  Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.  

My teaching career began when I tried to replicate the life-giving mommy & me classes in my former city.  Despite the small classes and short-lived success of the program it created a lasting habit of scheduling my workouts into my day.

My kids grew, and I began teaching a few group fitness classes a week where I could utilize the childcare area.  Call me a bad mom, but it was a blissful hour without Thomas the Train toot-tooting across my kitchen.

As I developed as an instructor, I added new formats and certifications, and applied those to my classes and workouts at home.

To this day, I look at the day ahead of me and schedule my exercise.  A guaranteed fail is telling myself, I will get it in when the time is right.  

Just as important as establishing workouts is honoring my body and giving it rest days.  I’ve had to learn this the hard way. Rest days vary. Right now it seems appropriate to give myself Saturdays off when we are racing between two basketball games, track practice and church.  Days off are fluid and necessary.

My exercise routines have slowly grown over the course of my adult life.  They’ve also evolved, and will continue to change as I age. Some seasons have held intense workouts, and others are gentler on my joints yet still challenging.   If you’re new to this health world, I invite you to give yourself the grace to do the same.  Your path will look different than mine and you have to find your own rhythm.  What’s important is you move in a way you love, schedule it in, and allow it to change you.  And never, ever wear a thong leotard.

** Photo Credit:  “Winston Churchill – Biographical”. Nobelprize.org. Nobel Media AB 2014. Web. 31 Jan 2017.

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