Confessions of an (ex) Gym Rat

Six dogs. They are my daily joy and companions. They are also my exercise program. No matter what else has happened in my day, they must get out for a walk, either in the morning or at sunset.

Over the past few years, San Miguel has made lovely little pedestrian walkways in various neighborhoods, and we “dog people” heavily use these areas. My partner and I have several routes, but most often, we use one along the river. The entire walk, if you’re counting, is about 4500 steps, and it takes us about an hour if we allow for leisurely sniffs here and there (for the dogs, not us).

So yeah, this is my current exercise program. But, you might ask, what about cardio? What about upper body strength? What about those glutes?

Here’s the part where I tell you that my other animals are part of my exercise program as well. I have eight birds in six cages, and I move them outside when the weather is good (most days), hanging their cages from the trees. In moving the cages around, I get plenty of use of the arm muscles, moving the cages outside and then inside again before the sun sets and the temperature turns cold. 

Cardio and glutes? I have the hills of San Miguel for that. At least once a day, I climb a hill and pause at the top, winded. This is a hilly little town and hill-climbing is part of everyday life here.

What is my relationship to the gym? There's an accessible gym, less than a five-minute walk from here. I’ve been a member, off and on, for five years or more. Currently, I’m not a member, though. I decided to see what I could do without it.

When I’ve been a gym member, I’ve enjoyed the sense of a routine with my exercise program. Sometimes, I miss the discipline of jumping on a machine or the sense of achievement -- the high -- from weightlifting. I have nothing negative to say about going to the gym. I can decide to join again at any time.

But at times in the past, while working out, I thought of the dogs waiting for me at home, hankering to get out. And it seemed kind of wasteful, to use the energy at the gym when it could be better spent with them...

Looking back at my past habits,  I've discovered that I used the gym as part of an anxiety disorder. Oh, how I used to drive myself to exercise off any dietary indiscretion I’d committed. Too many carbs? Hit the gym for an hour. In various iterations of my past life, I ran on the treadmill at top speed, slanted, running uphill, for minutes upon minutes, hour upon hour. It did sometimes occur to me to wonder what my body was experiencing. Was it exercise, or was it running in fear? Fear of getting fat. Fear of being unattractive. Or was I punishing myself? Making my body “pay” for bad choices made by my mind to “treat myself” and eat something.

With this practice, it’s true, I never got fat. But I’m not sure that I was healthy. 

Now that I’m in my 60s, I’ve finally come to terms with this body. I no longer demand it to be super-model thin. Being fit and healthy is an achievable and gentler goal. It isn’t necessary to punish myself for anything. The body craves movement, the way it craves food, and the way the lungs crave oxygen. It’s necessary to give it what it needs, and it’s possible to do so without being harsh.