It was March 5, 2010. I had an upcoming doctor’s appointment necessitated by an application for key member life insurance through my law firm. I had a vague sense of unease about it. I was in decent shape, but faint and unsettling concerns about aging were beginning to sniff the perimeter of my consciousness.
I had a three-decades-long love affair with fitness: at times enraptured, occasionally non-existent, but unfailingly dysfunctional. Consistent aerobic exercise was elusive; diversified strength routines were absent. An over-arching frustration with lack of conditioning supplanted any semblance of a healthy relationship with my body.
A fanciful thought flitted through my mind: why not try to exercise for thirty minutes a day for fifty days in a row? It would improve my fitness, and maybe it would alleviate the constant internal dialogue about what I should be doing when I was doing something else. I was afraid that I’d start -- and fail again—like the dance aerobics class that I once tried and quit or the exercise videos that became mind-numbingly mundane. I was weary of my obsession with fads, and I suspected this resolution, too, would be dropped like a weight at the gym and never picked up again.
And so, it began. For the first three or four days, I was thrilled with a sense of devotion and discipline. I blogged and humblebragged about it, enamored by the attention of friends and family. Then it got hard – brutally exacting -- not by virtue of physical effort but the mental exertion of knowing that each day it loomed before me.
I didn’t know how to create a habit-based routine, and I was oblivious to simple regimes to delay gratification. I blundered forward, daily, with the thought that I had to find time to work out. Exercise became a small but persistent dead weight tethered to my perception. I merely substituted “I have to work out” for “I should work out.”
But around Day 20, the process transformed. I instituted morning workouts to eliminate the insistent awareness that the task was yet to come. I implemented evening routines to plan exercise for the next day. I crafted reward-based incentives and created inducements for major accomplishments. I acquired the knowledge that commitment is its own reward.
As the days transpired, it became easier and lighter. I learned to anticipate non-exercise demands and work around them. I developed strategies for stressful and difficult days. I cultivated an appreciation for my mental toughness and my physical capability. For fifty continuous days, I found a way to work in a workout. I ran to book club and board meetings. I walked the boundaries of outfield fences at teen baseball games. I pedaled stationary bikes while reading gossip magazines. I jogged and stretched watching reality TV shows. The landscape of my emotional life became fastened to the physical.
On Day 51, I woke up, looked outside and thought, why stop now?
________________________
To Exercise: Happy 10th Anniversary! For reasons only you and I know, you probably saved my life. Actually, I’m sure of it.