sure. wait. what?

After a relatively idle April, I have made it my mission to swear off indolence in May. 

Spring has arrived and it has made the city more luminous, more alive. The sidewalks no longer glisten with slush and ice, and what once were tiny green buds sprouting from the trees’ skeletal branches have now flourished into lush, verdant foliage. 

These, plus the fact that there are no warplanes flying over my house or drug cartels terrorizing my city. I am enjoying a relatively comfortable life, so it feels rather sacrilegious to stay sedentary and let my body atrophy. How dare I take my health for granted?

So, this spring, I am resolved to move more, and to move no matter what. It doesn’t matter if I had a stressful day at work, or if my uterine lining is swollen and is making my body feel the weight of the Earth. I must get moving. 

The Canadian Society for Exercise Physiology recommends at least 150 minutes of moderate to vigorous aerobic physical activity per week, plus muscle strengthening activities twice a week. This month, so far, I have done a dandy job of exceeding these benchmarks.

I lift three times a week — nothing too crazy, just basic strength training movements that anyone can do at home with a pair of dumbbells or some sauce jars or a whole-ass mini fridge (you do you). On days that I don’t lift, I do something low impact like walking, or something fun like biking or climbing. 

I am now on Week 3 of this self-made and self-imposed “program,” and I am feeling no signs of disengagement yet. The cheeriness of the season is definitely helping. Being surrounded by folks who are into fitness is also fueling my engine.

Many of my colleagues at work are training for either a marathon or a long-distance bike ride. Some of them are even parents (mothers!), so seeing them commit to their training plans on top of a full-time job is quite motivating.

And then there are my friends whose summer plans almost always involve the outdoors: camping, hiking, canoeing. I would love to join them in all their adventures, but our schedules and strength levels do not always align.

External influences can only do so much though. When my motivation begins to wane — which will for sure happen — I have to ground myself in my goals. Why, exactly, am I forcing myself to exercise in the first place?

I don’t want to lose weight, that’s for sure. I am already petite and narrow, and my weight is already on the lower end of the recommended range for my height.

I am also not trying to impress the girlies on Instagram. This blog is the only public-facing platform where I show even a glimmer of my personal life. Performing for social media isn’t my thing at all (but no judgment if that is your jig.) 

But yes, I want my arms to look toned. And yes, I could use more muscle in my butt. Vanity is at play here, 100 percent, but how I look is secondary to how strong and nimble I am, or I can be.

Strength and agility matter more to me now that I’m in my 30s. At this age, conditions like sarcopenia, or the gradual loss of muscle mass, typically begin. I must exercise precisely because of the consequences that come with not doing so.

I don’t want to look back on my 30s and wonder why I didn’t do squats when my thighs could still handle the stress. Did I really spend most of my prime years sitting? Chilling? Waiting for life to happen? No, ma’am. 

I know exercise will not solve all my problems, now or in the future, but I like what it represents. Discipline. Presence. The desire and the willingness to do something instead of merely letting life drift through me. It’s a little corny, but when the sluggish days inevitably arrive, I hope it’s reason enough to keep going.

The title is a call-out to one of the Cs in The Four Cs of Hobbies.

Also, here are some readings/viewings you might like:

I did cardio everyday for 30 days, this is what happened by Makari Espe on YouTube

from mine to yours by Queenie Wu on HTML Review (Issue No. 5)

Why America is Obsessed with Protein (and War) by Emily Topping on Current Affairs