#28. This Girl's Gotta Move: Exercise Daily
You’re still here? Congrats! I have no doubt at least half the regular readers immediately clicked away after they read today’s headline.
Even though we all know that daily exercise benefits us–physically, mentally–heck, probably even financially–it sure can be drag, amiright?
Maybe that’s why only 19.3% of us actually engage in exercise daily. (This is where dogs are a godsend. They will force you to do something that is good for your own body. But more on that anon).
When I think about my personal exercise path–that is, the figurative path on which my history of exercise landed, not the actual gravel path on which I sometimes exercise–I can see it’s been a long and winding road, indeed.
Maybe the love-hate relationship with physical activity was how I internalized the antithetical role models in my life in that area, my mother and father.
My mom literally never engaged in physical exercise, unless by accident while unscrewing a particularly recalcitrant jar lid or climbing the stairs after loading laundry (our washer and dryer were in the basement). Perhaps not surprisingly, she spent most of her life battling obesity and died of complications from Type 2 diabetes at age 62.
On the other hand, one of the best possible examples of devotion to athleticism was my dad.
Although he worked an average of 12 hours per day on his feet (hauling sides of beef, grinding meat, restocking the freezer and doing who knows what else in his little butcher shop), he’d arrive home each evening, scarf a quick dinner of leftovers from the meal my sisters and I had eaten hours before, then don his jacket once again and head outside for an hour-long walk through the neighborhood.
What did the locals think of this Polish-accented man striding purposefully along the sidewalks while belting out Sinatra’s “My Way” or McCartney’s “Yesterday” at the top of his lungs? Yes, there were worse singing voices, so there’s that. Still, it must have been jolting. But just imagine the cardiovascular system on that guy!
In addition, on summer weekends, my dad would ride his bike, work around the garden or basically do anything to keep his body moving, including cleaning the entire house. When he retired the day he turned 65, he turned to exercising at home: pushups against door jambs, calisthenics in the bedroom, lunges in the backyard. Anything to stay in motion.
Now, what made me more inclined to emulate my mother rather than my father? (If I had to guess, I’d say that eating chocolate is more fun than doing pushups).
“Gotta keep moving, Mum. . . “ —Elsie at 15.
Luckily for me, I have a lifelong love of dogs. And dogs have those same “must-keep-moving” impulses, don’t they? (Okay, maybe not French Bulldogs. But are they *really* dogs?). In my case, our pooches have always influenced their owners to move along with them.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. What about exercise in the PC (Pre-Canine) Era? In the days of my callow youth, I did my best to emulate my father.
With virtually no knowledge of exercise best practices (ie, how to avoid breaking something while ostensibly stretching a muscle), I’d jog around the block on which my university residence was situated. No warmup, no cooldown, not even any kind of special shoes. Because I was 18, it worked.
Not surprisingly, I experienced my first injury in my 20s, when I decided to work out along with the 20-Minute Workout gals on TV (those of you in the Toronto area will remember the scantily-clad women rotating on a circular platform while gyrating their hips and stretching their legs). Only problem was, I conducted this session barefoot, on the concrete floor of the university residence. Which resulted in a stress fracture on my foot and forever-after swelling.
Once the initial injury resolved, I shifted to walking as my major form of physical activity. This time, I purchased the proper footwear, too.
Then, in my 30s, I discovered the gym and weights. Halleluja! An activity I actually enjoyed. (I know, a fairly squishy woman who has no interest in bodybuilding but enjoys the process of lifting weights. Go figure). Now that I think of it, I was in the best shape of my life back then.
My routine has evolved over the years (dropped the gym during Covid), but I still attempt to exercise almost-daily, still enjoy weights and rediscovered the joys of riding a bicycle over the past three years. Yet, it seems, no matter how consistent my workouts, I still can’t seem to reproduce the tone and stamina that my dad maintained until his 90s.
On those days when exercise falls to the very lowest priority on my list, there are the dogs. They really are the best role models for how to maintain physical activity–and actually enjoy it.
Chaser doing what she loved best (and Elsie, if you watch to the end).
Even if you’re not a dog person, you might be familiar with the “zoomies”--those crazy bursts of energy when dogs will simply run wild, spiraling in circles of various sizes, depending on the space allotted. This happens because dogs (sometimes literally_ have to move.
With our first pooch, Elsie, we christened this activity “Crazy Elsies,” when she’d gallop at full speed round the backyard, front paws extending fully with each stride like a swimmer doing the breast stroke at 3X speed.
Chaser, for her part, earned the sobriquet “Little Athlete,” since she was able to leap off the deck from puppyhood and continued to love chasing her Frisbee at high altitudes. Even in old age, she’d amble over to where the leashes hung by the front door and would bop hers with her nose in an effort to encourage the humans to get off their rears and take her for a walk already.
And Zoey, our current pup, is in a league of her own. The manic energy of the Australian Cattle Dog coupled with the Lab-Border Collie mix is enough to keep the power grid going through a tornado. Her energy is so high it could catapult her over the Burj Khalifa. Her enthusiastic energy is so contagious that even masks and keeping six feet away won’t save you. When Zoey wants to walk, you just go along with it.
I feel lucky to have had dogs in my life for the past 17 years, keeping me active and making exercise a daily occurrence. Even on those occasions when I really don’t feel like it–when it’s raining, when the temperature is minus 25C (-13F), when I didn’t get enough sleep or when I’m just being lazy–Zoey’s vocal encouragement and playfulness on the walk always boost my mood. And then, my energy follows.
How about pledging to exercise more regularly this week? My plan is to move above and beyond the daily dog-walks, maybe breaking out the bike for the season or even attempting a few push ups on the bathroom door frame. How about you?
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Follow up to last week’s challenge: Take alone time when you need it. How did it go?
This past week made me think of a lecture I heard once, delivered by a young, hip rabbi who related how he’d been trained by an ancient Orthodox teacher. The Orthodox rabbi explained a particular holiday in which Jews must give up eating meat (my research failed to uncover such a holiday, but I did find this, which is what, I suspect, he was referring to).
The young rabbi then remarked to the older rabbi, “Well, I’m vegetarian, so I already don’t eat meat. So, what should I do, give up tofu?”
The older man grimaced. “No, you have to give up MEAT,” he said.
“But if I don’t eat meat anyway, then wouldn’t that mean I’m not actually giving anything up? What would be the point of–”
“Meat!” the older man bellowed. “You must give up MEAT.”
In the end, they young Rabbi gave up the argument instead, and didn’t bring it up again. He told the story to illustrate the difference between the letter of the law and the spirit of the law.
Well, I have to admit, that story came to me many times over the past week. I mean, how could I seek out “alone time” when I already HAVE sufficient alone time?
I’ll credit my work-from-home lifestyle and a spouse who is more than respectful of my privacy (to the point of annoyance, in fact. I mean, if I was giggling on the phone with my old boyfriend–the one who was my first true love and with whom I’m still friends–right in front of the hubs, he literally wouldn’t even try to listen to the conversation. How do I know? Because it happened).
But back to alone time. I did manage to meditate and meet with a friend over the past week. I “escaped” to the sauna a couple of times, too. And, of course, if I ever feel the need for uninterrupted solo time, all I need do is shut the door of my office, and hubby will honor the note that says, “recording a Reel” (because, to be fair, I do that a lot).
The only thing that interrupted my alone time this past week? Zoey, scratching on the door to come in. That girl needs to learn some boundaries.
How was your week? I’d love to hear! Leave a comment or question below and let me know.
As always, thank you for reading. If you enjoy Be the Dog, please consider recommending it to someone else–or becoming a paid subscriber to support me and my writing. I’d be eternally grateful either way!
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