One of my clients/friends came up with one of my favorite slogans of all time, when during a recent session he cried out plaintively, "F. U. Exercise!" I am so getting that on a shirt. It's my workout feeling put into words: F.U. Exercise.
In his case he was being funny while he was also doing whatever evil thing I asked him to do. But damn if I don't feel that way often. Here's what it's like for me. Exercise is hard and it hurts and it can become one of those big fat "shoulds" in your day, along with gathering stuff so you can do your taxes and eating leafy greens and putting on actual clothes. If I don't get it out of the way early, it haunts me like a ghost dog. "You still neeeeeed to work out, woooooo. You haven't worked out yet, wooooo."
And that's just getting me to do it! Once I start, damn, then I get sweaty and it's painful and some days it provides me with vivid proof that I am a weak fraud and a failure. It requires effort, and being willing to challenge yourself, and a certain willingness to suffer reasonable pain in the moment for a long-term outcome. And you have to be consistent. Damn, I don't like ANY of those things. Why can't there be some long term benefit to laziness and lolling around in bed, hmmm? How fair is that?
That does it: I quit. New blog will be solely focused on sitting in the sun on my balcony in flip flops and an old t-shirt (with FU Exercise boldly on the chest), just doing nothing. The posts will flow from that.
But then, I unfortunately remember that I'm vain and I like the way I look and feel better when I exercise. Sorry, that's part of the motivation here. Oh, and it does give me a post-workout glow-y feeling, and a sense that at least I accomplished one good thing, even if the workout was suckitude itself. (My low standards for myself are truly an asset sometimes. "Eh, you did something - you're good.") And yeah, it's all very nice to be able to carry heavy things and do push ups and see progress on occasion and accomplish things, blah blah blah. I mean, the whole "strong" thing is nice. And I like being an example of athleticism for my kid. Yeah, whatever.
So here's the thing: The other day I suddenly remembered this moment from when I was in college. I will tell you I feel a little bit uncomfortable sharing this story, for lots of reasons, but I will anyway, because that's what happens when I've had hot chocolate late at night. I had been running regularly for a couple years, and was weight training (unheard of for tennis players) and doing old time functional fitness stuff. But despite all that, and the fact that I had a consistent program and all, it still felt like I was just sort of doing my thing, it didn't mean anything really. I was still the same sort of lazy shlump I always was.
So towards the end of practice one day, our coach decided he had to punish us since we lost so badly the day before. He had that brilliant idea face on, and decided that we needed to do fifty 50 yard sprints at the end of practice – (frankly I think he just lost an argument with his wife and was ticked off at everything in life – he did that often) So after a two minute diatribe of how inept and piss poor we were we as a tennis team were summoned to the track.(We lost 6 matches to 3 against the 4th ranked team in the country!) He and his assistant stood fifty yards apart and started blowing the whistles… This is going to be fun…and then started doing sprints in my usual zoned-out way, and when I was done, I looked around and realized I had finished first. "Did I forget to do part of it? Did I count the number of sprints wrong?" I asked my coach, a little panicked. He shrugged, and said, "Maybe you are just fast."
What the fuck? I'm not fast. Yea a little strong, maybe even quick first step, but never fast! I played sports I usually got picked last for teams because I feigned indifference, and I ran slow, and there is not ONE part of me that is at all physically good at anything remotely resembling a sprint.
Except…maybe actually doing this shit resulted in, I don't know, getting better and FASTER! I was okay at being okay at it. Being, well…good at it? Some of it. Improving Getting fit, whatever that means.
I guess what I'm saying is that moment was the beginning of me changing how I saw myself. Obviously there's plenty of people who are better athletes than me—thousands of them, and I don't like to think about them at all, those bastards. But that part is not very important. It took a little competition for me to see myself as athletic, but competition is only one avenue, and it can screw you over just as easily, if all you are is relative to how you do against other people. (I tell myself this daily sometimes, especially when I lose.) The point here is the yet-again silly realization that doing something actually changed me, and it just took a little longer for my picture of myself to catch up. But I'm glad it did, because I like feeling this way.
I've had lots of moments like this in my life: Caring for others made me realize I'm an a-hole(tough love), getting writing jobs made me realize I'm a writer, and so on. And actually exercising regularly made me realize I can do it, and get better at it. I would like to keep feeling that way, so I have to keep doing it.
Of course I can't help but be amused at the thought, "What if I did count my sprints wrong that day?" Fake epiphany!?…. Either way though, it's been a good thing.
I really hate all the rah-rah total epiphany exercise stuff out there, so I get leery of making too much of anything, especially with all the so called gurus promising your life will change if you lose ten pounds. I'm just saying, for me, this has been an accomplishment, and something that made me and makes me feel better. FU exercise still applies. But I also know that I can't quit and hope that I never do. Because I'm happier now.
Til next time….
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