(Has it really been a month since I posted?)
I remember the days of leg warmers and terrycloth elastic sweatbands, of Olivia Newton-John singing "Let's Get Physical" and Showtime showing 30-minute workout videos between movies that attracted more porn aficionados than exercise fanatics.
Exercise, the four-letter-word of weight loss, has truly gotten a bad rap over the years. Too many people, encouraged (or discouraged) by repetitive well-meaning diet and medical professionals, have come to think that exercise has to include unflattering spandex, impossible yoga moves, giant torturous balls that drop you on your ass more than flatten it, and machines that make you feel like a hamster in a wheel running for your life while the kids are giggling at you. I am here to impart a little exercise secret, one the tae-bo people don't want getting out:
Exercise is ANYTHING that gets your heart rate up consistently for a 20- to 30-minute time period.
Still seeing visions of pale pink leotards bulging with fat rolls? Well, consider this: when you were a kid, what did you like to do? Run around outside? Swim? Jump rope? Climb a tree? Yes, we may not all be 12 anymore, and our best tree-climbing may be behind us, but think about what you like to do. I am sure you can find a way to do it and raise your heart rate for 20 minutes or so.
As for me, we used to move a great deal when I was growing up. Every time I got a new bedroom, I always meticulously preplanned the furniture arrangements. The bed had to go off to the side and the dresser with the large mirror had to go in front of whatever floorspace I could afford to keep clear. And then there was the stereo, the centerpiece of my layout. My favorite thing to do, for hours sometimes, was to crank up my New Kids on the Block, my Debbie Gibson, Bobby McFerrin, Madonna, or Cyndi Lauper, and DANCE. Right there in front of the mirror. Just like Snoopy with his head in the air and his fancy footwork flashing by, I would dance until the air couldn't get into me fast enough. I would choreograph and re-choreograph Paula Abdul songs. I would imagine lights flashing across me, people cheering and laughing with delight at my cutting-edge moves, and applause. I would dance for the love of dancing. I would shake the house.
I was reminded of this recently while attending a concert. I only had a scant 2 or 3 square feet in which to move, but the music moved me, and I danced as best I could in that little space, letting the music move me independently of my will. I yelled in all the right places and sang along. And when the music faded, I could feel my heart pounding in my chest while the endorphins coursed through my blood stream. I remembered how much I used to love this stuff, the music and the dancing. Why was I wasting time on an elliptical machine? I had everything I needed right here, in my arms and legs and ears. And I would enjoy it.
So, go forth into the world, and find what moves you. What makes you move. Ride a bike. Take a walk in a beautiful place. Find a climbing wall. Play with your kids. Dance.
If you can find something that moves you that is also something you love, exercise will cease to be a four-letter-word, and become the best part of your day.
