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I like going to the gym on my way to work.
It's a brisk 15-minute walk from my house to the gym. At 8am, the streets have not yet begun to bake and the midday haze of air pollution has not yet settled over the city. I exchange smiles and "good mornings" with the few people I pass on the street - a young man polishing the brass pillars that hold up a business's awning, an elderly priest stumping across Cathedral Street with his cane. By the time I get to the gym, my muscles are warmed up and loose - I can skip the usual ten minutes on the exercise bike.
Before-work exercisers mostly clear out by 8, and the daytime crowd (students and retirees) generally hasn't shown up yet. I like the privacy, the absence of chatter, the assurance of knowing that no one is watching me and secretly laughing at how little I can lift. The pop music they play through the sound system is easy for me to tune out, so my world shrinks to include just me and my exercises.
There's something soothing and meditative about lifting weights. I like the building strain followed by release, the warm glow of endorphins. I like narrowing my focus down to a particular set of muscle movements, concentrating only on perfecting my form, visualizing the proper muscles contracting and expanding. I like being aware of my body and how it moves. I like the sense of accomplishment that comes from filling in the little boxes on my exercise sheet: look what I've gotten done.
Right now I'm trying to fend off a mild depression via lifestyle adjustments: exercise, mindfulness, religious practice, rest, not ODing on sugar. This morning, it seems to be working.
It's a brisk 15-minute walk from my house to the gym. At 8am, the streets have not yet begun to bake and the midday haze of air pollution has not yet settled over the city. I exchange smiles and "good mornings" with the few people I pass on the street - a young man polishing the brass pillars that hold up a business's awning, an elderly priest stumping across Cathedral Street with his cane. By the time I get to the gym, my muscles are warmed up and loose - I can skip the usual ten minutes on the exercise bike.
Before-work exercisers mostly clear out by 8, and the daytime crowd (students and retirees) generally hasn't shown up yet. I like the privacy, the absence of chatter, the assurance of knowing that no one is watching me and secretly laughing at how little I can lift. The pop music they play through the sound system is easy for me to tune out, so my world shrinks to include just me and my exercises.
There's something soothing and meditative about lifting weights. I like the building strain followed by release, the warm glow of endorphins. I like narrowing my focus down to a particular set of muscle movements, concentrating only on perfecting my form, visualizing the proper muscles contracting and expanding. I like being aware of my body and how it moves. I like the sense of accomplishment that comes from filling in the little boxes on my exercise sheet: look what I've gotten done.
Right now I'm trying to fend off a mild depression via lifestyle adjustments: exercise, mindfulness, religious practice, rest, not ODing on sugar. This morning, it seems to be working.
no subject
-J
If you get to the point where you feel you need a little
Re: If you get to the point where you feel you need a little
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Let's hear it for self-induced Good Brain Chemicals. The very best kind - and so much cheaper than the other!
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*hug*
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It's not just the endorphins; it's that moving the body feels good, especially once you're getting used to moving it. There's a simple pleasure that comes from feeling things happen, from doing things, from feeling your body generate energy. It's especially good when you're in the groove, and don't really need to think, because your body knows what to do.
It's this notion that I wish could be expressed, rather than all the guilt-laden messages about health and necessity. When you exercise, you don't feel good because you're proud that you've filled this necessary duty; you feel good because it feels good to exercise... at least, it feels good once you get over the hump.