Lily Neve
About two years ago it dawned on me that I was seriously out of shape. My work had become more sedentary, and I hadn't made up for that. I enjoyed exercise, but never seemed to find the time or motivation to stick with it, day after day. Part of the problem, I realize now, was that I put accomplishments in my work ahead of my health.
Then I read a newspaper article about the local annual marathon. Perfect! There was a goal to strive for, a reason to exercise. I'd train hard and enter next year's marathon.
My "training program" consisted of running as hard as I could, till I was completely breathless, walking till I caught my breath, and then running as hard as I could again. Over and over. After about 40 minutes of that, I would go home and collapse. It felt good to finally be getting some exercise, but after a while I noticed that I wasn't making any progress.
I figured I needed some professional help, so I got online and found a few websites dedicated to running. Some were informative, some overwhelming. Most encouraged me to invest in things that were out of my reach, such as expensive gear and gadgets or a personal trainer.
One day I tossed my excuses out the window. I would just take it slow and easy, and see how far I got.
Even more daunting was the concept of consistent, long-term training. Expert after expert wrote, "Start slowly, build up slowly, but do something every day." I'm more of a go-for-quick-results person. Long-term projects—argh!—those drove me nuts. Witnessing my own reaction to this approach to exercise helped me realize how that attitude affected other areas of my life. Important things were going undone because they required small steps repeated over time. Meanwhile, the only people who really ran marathons or became fit or reached their life goals were those who worked up to it slowly, day after day, over time. I determined to make that change, starting with my exercise. I began slow, tried to pace myself, and told that ugly "What good will this little bit do?" voice in my mind to shut up.
At first it was at a slower pace and not for as long as I would have liked, but I tried to do it every day. Each day I could run a little farther in the allotted time, and I began to really enjoy it. I also found that I had more energy.
At one point a flu knocked me for a loop. Even after the fever left, the fatigue remained for several weeks. When I was finally strong enough to resume my daily runs, I figured that the level of fitness I had worked up to in the previous months had been undone completely. All that time and effort lost! I didn't even want to try, and kept procrastinating. Maybe tomorrow.
One day I tossed my excuses out the window. I would just take it slow and easy, and see how far I got. To my surprise, I was at about 75% compared to what I had been able to do before my illness. All my hard work hadn't been in vain. What's more, as I ran, I started to feel better. Breathing deeply, running through fields and beautiful places surrounding my home, was invigorating. I think that was the day I realized I loved running. Fitness was a worthwhile goal, and the thought of running in a marathon had given me the incentive to get started, but the day-to-day doing was great fun in itself.
As I ran, I thought about other things that I'd been putting off because they required the same planning and pacing, plugging away day by day. The joy was in the running, in doing what I could each day to keep fit and healthy, to stay connected with family and loved ones, and to make progress in my work.
I may never run that marathon, but toward the end of each day, you'll find me running.