“Work” and other excuses for neglecting exercise

I was not a sporty kid.  This is an understatement.  In primary school I was the kid who was always picked last by the sporty kids to be on their phys-ed (physical education) team.  I played C grade tennis in my last year of primary school – losing every game with my perfect double-fault streaks.  In high school, I made the lowest grade volleyball team, only to be benched for every single game.    

Regular exercise has not been a feature of most of my life.  I have given a lot of things a go and given up quickly.  I have tried windsurfing, water skiing, roller skating, jazz ballet, soccer, squash, aerobics, pilates, even a form of Thai- boxing (can you believe it).  When living in New Zealand I tried “tramping” as it is known there (hiking for many of us), I even managed to come last in that!! 

Something that has struck me throughout all these attempts to be sporty is that I just AM NOT.  Some people have sporting talent, heaps of energy for exercise, and an ability to get fit – not me.  Even during the early 90s when I was an aerobics devotee (thank you, Oliva NJ) my fitness levels never really seemed to improve.  Not that I have any scientific evidence one way or the other.

So, when work became a big part of my life, it was easy for me to opt out of the very little exercise that I occasionally did.  I had other things to keep me busy and connected to other people.  Exercise was for the younger and fitter, those with lots of spare time, not for me.  Not surprising then, that a couple of decades rolled past with me doing little more than the occasion yoga class when I was feeling “stressed out” with work.  How effective do you think that was for recalibrating my work/life balance?

After an absence of about 40 years, my very first bike has reappeared in my life. This was the bike upon which I learned to ride.  It has been abandoned and neglected all these years and is not looking too flash.  I am astounded that it still exists!  When I was reunited with it some strange feelings washed over me. 

Forget, the sense of childhood freedom, the wind on my face as streamers billowed from the handlebars as we glided around suburban Gold Coast streets.  This was not the feeling at all.  The feeling was more like – ‘riding that bike was hard’ up our gently sloping, looooong street.  (We were at the end of the street at No 25 – not really a long street).

Nowadays a bike is my main form of transport.  I have had my e-bike for 6 and ½ years and I love it.  Unlike some of the “look – no pedalling” types out there (of questionable legality), mine is a speed limited pedal-assist e-bike.  This means that I do have to do some exercise.  When I am riding my e-bike over Brisbane’s bridges, and bikeways, I do have that sense of childhood freedom, with the wind on my face, as I take in the sights of this beautiful city. 

Also, after about 10 years of patchy levels of commitment, I have worked myself up to swimming a kilometre at least 3 times a week.  I have done this consistently over the past few years.  Yes, I love riding my e-bike to the pool, and I love the serenity of being in the water. 

I am not a sporty adult.  I am one of a handful of Brisbane women who don’t own a pair of stretchy body-hugging pants.  I don’t even know what they are called.  (I get it that there is not necessarily a correlation between active wear and being active.)  But, I am currently the most active/sporty that I have ever been in my life, and I feel GREAT!  It doesn’t matter, that I am slow, don’t have the gear, will never compete in a marathon or triathlon (and have no desire to), it matters that I do some form of exercise regularly that I enjoy. 

So, if I can do it, so can YOU.  Start small, try a range of things that appeal to you, build up good habits, enlist someone to support or ‘nag’ you (I have a brilliant friend who didn’t let up on the swimming “encouragement”), and just keep having a go.  It took me 40 years – it won’t take you that long. 

PS the words for this article came to me while I was swimming up and down a 50-metre pool – my happy place.