Thursday, August 06, 2020
It started with PT to address my knees. Turns out hyper-mobility looks cool during yoga but comes with a price. In Physical Therapy my muscles are being retrained to hold correct postures without my joints (specifically knees) hyper-extending.
Since I would need to continue exercises throughout the week, I started going safely ( with mask, physical distancing, and copious sanitizer) to the gym. Oh how my brain reveled, awash in endorphins.
I didn't realize how much I missed dedicating a few consecutive hours to physical activity. Unfortunately the rapid weight gain and fall meant jogging, cycling, and free weights were no longer a safe option. Rigorous daily yard work became the only real "me time" and fully replaced the 5x5 workout routine. It wasn't enough, both emotionally and physically. The lack of metrics and structure left something to be desired. Plus the heat and humidity started cutting my time shorter and shorter.
I've never liked going to gyms due to crowds and intense anxiety. Fortunately the last few years have endowed me with a delightfully apathetic attitude towards strangers' opinions of my appearance. Suddenly going to the gym is my anchor each day. I thrive when it feels as though the day is starting on my terms and with an activity that is solely for my own enjoyment and well being.
Most of my time for most of my life has been consumed with the care and keeping of others. Even health endeavors often were so I could do more for other or look better for others. Going to the gym to do exercises I enjoy. Claiming that time for myself. Setting this as a boundary upon which I insist space be given. It enhances the experience beyond any health initiatives I've previously undertaken. It just feels nice and very necessary to allow myself to be a priority.
All this to say, I am on my second week of steady gym attendance and enjoy it more than I could have possibly imagined.