As mentioned in a previous post, last year was less than stellar from a physical health point of view. While I successfully managed to carve out more time in which to develop a better sense of life-work balance for myself, I also became good friends with the twin devils Laziness and Excess. And under their influence, I simultaneously developed an allergy to exercise and a penchant for stuffing too many treats and tasty beverages down my gullet.
None of the outcomes of that unholy friendship were unexpected. My clothes became more snug, my energy levels dropped, and mentally; well mentally I felt drained. And yes, I felt drained even with the boundaries I’d set up to manage my life-work balance. Beyond this, I also felt far more irritable than usual. I’m pretty sure my blood pressure was significantly higher than what my body is accustomed to, and definitely higher than what is healthy.
Of course, none of this was helped by the fact that I was eating out or ordering in most nights. Given all of my travelling in 2019, it seemed far easier to just eat for comfort than it was to eat for health (not that you can’t eat both for health and comfort, I just chose options that were less healthy despite being comforting). And with my kitchen/main floor renovations on-going, cooking at home wasn’t really an option.
In short, 2019 was a recipe for disaster when it came to my personal physical health. It also wasn’t necessarily great for my wallet. Clearly change is required.
Fortunately 2020 is a new year, and with it has come access to my once again fully functioning kitchen thanks to the all but completed main floor renovations. This should mean that both my wallet and waistline will be helped by significantly reducing the number of nights I eat out or order in.
However, eating better isn’t going to cut it. Plain and simple, I need to move more. More walking, more running, more biking – whatever – I simply need to get off the couch and away from screens.
To that end, shortly after returning from my most recent European adventure, I made the decision to join a local gym. And while I haven’t sorted out how it fits perfectly into my day-to-day/week-to-week schedule as of yet, I’ve managed to find enough time to enjoy a few miles on the treadmill, and attend several sessions to practice hot yoga.
And in both cases, my return has been a lesson in humility.
I can’t run like I used to, I felt clumsy for most of the time I spent on the treadmill, and my breathing was laboured and difficult to control. It also felt like my heart was about to burst out of my chest, and my right ankle and calf are currently not very happy with me. Regardless, I found myself smiling through the misery because I was moving and back in a space that I know I love. And despite the bursting heart and clumsy breathing, there were brief moments of zen where I felt that I could run forever.
No, I’m not running like I used to, but I’ll get back there eventually.
My first hot yoga class was as humbling as my return to the treadmill. The heat was overwhelming and I struggled to remember what each pose was about. I found myself straining in the dimly lit room to make out what the instructor was telling us to do, trying to translate her words into some form of movement. My balance was off, my muscles were twitchy, and every single movement was an awkward cacophony of unrehearsed, untrained movement.
If that wasn’t bad enough, the humble pie I was gulping down was topped off with a delightful scoop of holy shit I’m going to vomit and pass out. Instead, I opted to sit down on my mat and practice my breathing while the rest of the class carried on their practice without me. Strangely, I’ve never thought that I’d find myself in yoga practice using all my will to focus on not vomiting as a way of grounding myself.
So there you have it. I’ve decided to break up with Excess and Laziness, and once again begin my journey towards a more healthy me. And while I have no idea exactly the path I’m going to follow, I’m just really happy to be moving again.
consumedbywanderlust 