I never thought this day would come, but I’ve joined the realm of the non-exercisers among you. And by that, I don’t mean that I’ve cut back my weekly workouts from 10 to 5. Or that I’ve swapped kickboxing for swimming. I mean that I do nothing. Nothing at all. And it sucks.
I have no idea why anyone would want to be inactive. I concede that daily training isn’t for everyone, but I know lots of people that do no exercise at all. Not only is it unhealthy, but you don’t get to ride that endorphin buzz. Your metabolism grinds to a slow halt as you spend your day sitting on your ass. Why would you? Endorphins people, endorphins! They’re legal!
I know people that go through phases. They see the light (either because they start getting guilty or because they find a sport that they like) and fit some exercise into their routine. They feel great! They wonder why the hell they didn’t do it before. Then slowly they go back to their old ways. They get a cold and take a week off. It turns into two. Then a month. Then one day they get the guilts and they start up again. They can’t believe how good they feel! They proclaim that they will never stop again! This is wonderful! Until summer comes and the lure of the beer is stronger than the lure of the gym.
When people figure out that I train every day they tell me I’m so ‘good’. I’m not good. I just care about my health. I’ve been doing this for so long that it’s a habit. Which is why I’m struggling so much now.
Today marks the end of my second exercise free week. It is fairly common for women with twin pregnancies to be told to stay on strict rest for the first and third trimesters, especially if they have experienced bleeding. But this is the first time in 15 years that I have had two weeks off. Even after surgery last year I was back after a week. I feel worse for doing nothing, and light exercise fixes more than it breaks. For now though, I’m not even allowed to walk.
But I’m doing what I’m told because you know what? It’s not about me any more.