I am not a naturally athletic person. Lest you get the impression from the post’s title that I am one of those people with a vexing bottomless well of physical energy, aptitude or endurance, I must assure you that I am a clutz.
I was a good student in my youth. I felt secure and comfortable in the realm of my mind but completely at a loss when I paid any attention to my body. Growing up I barely completed a season of any sport, most often quitting after the first few lessons or games. My athletic prowess extended to the occasional aerobics class or a night out at the bowling alley every decade or so. I learned to swim and ride a bike years after friends my age did. Oh, I did play softball one season, though it ended with a broken nose and the assistant coach sarcastically yelling, “Look what I got!” on the single occasion I managed to catch a ball during a game.
In my late 20’s I accidentally cultivated a slow-jog habit. I say accidentally because I really can’t otherwise explain how I found myself pulling on my sneakers and jogging while trying to hold steady a very skippy portable CD player during many of the summers of the late 90s. The object was to simply move my body, not push myself too hard – which I was very good at.
Once parenthood hit though, the sheer physical exhaustion and a sleep-deprivation induced fogginess punted that shaky practice right out the window. Finding time to exercise meant getting up early. Sleep was what my body needed there was no way I’d miss a minute of it. Besides, I hardly had enough time or energy to go to the bathroom; why would I squander precious energy on running a loop around my neighborhood when I needed it to unload the dishwasher?
At some point in the last few years though, the sneakers found their way out of the closet and I am just as surprised as you are to find out that I have a pretty decent jogging habit again. I’ve even done a few 5ks in the last year or so, run through the last two winters and I’ve probably doubled my speed – I can run much faster now that I’ve upgraded to an iPod.
What has come as a surprise is the pleasure not rekindling the slow jog ability, but of pushing my body really hard. As I crank up the volume of that perfect heart-thumping track, I’m almost always able to run faster and farther than I believed possible, and with that success comes the insight I am quite possibly mentally and emotionally stronger than I believe. I push myself by choice out on that sidewalk so that when I’m faced with a surprise obstacle in my everyday life, I already have experience of ignoring the voice in my head that tells me, “You have to stop, you can’t do this.” I don’t know how it’s possible that this is the same voice, but it is.
Another gratifying by-product of voluntary exhaustion is the way it can simply shut off my incessant mental chatter and calm my anxiety. Though my mind continually seeks out things to obsess about as long as it’s awake, it does take a little break in the hours after a good, hard workout. I have worked through and integrated some experiences more effectively by simply moving my body than I ever could by thinking about them. Sometimes the body knows how to handle that which the heart and mind simply cannot process. It took an apparently smart girl a surprisingly long time to learn that.
I don’t need to be a jock. I’ll always have my curves and my clumsiness. But I do have a new appreciation for my body’s wisdom, its value and its strength. And now when life throws me a curveball, I might just be able to catch it without breaking something.