Joy in Movement

Let’s just say that there really was not much joy in moving my body 45 pounds ago.  In fact, moving my body was utter torture.  It was a difficult endeavor, and I usually sought out ways to avoid moving--like taking the elevator rather than the stairs, or asking people to bring me things rather than getting them myself.  If I dropped something on the floor, it was not always easy to bend over and pick it up.  Nor was it always easy to lace up a pair of shoes. There were just certain things about moving my body that were uncomfortable and unpleasant.

I was stuck.

But not only was I stuck physically behind 45 pounds of weight that did not serve me, I was stuck mentally behind years and years and years of negative self-talk and negative beliefs about my body and my life.

Like a stagnant pond, there was no movement in my life, either physically or mentally.  I was becoming, in a way, stale, dead, immobilized, lifeless.

But there was a part of me that knew, intuitively, that there had to be another way of living, of thinking, of being, of moving.  And so I started to move my thoughts.  I became hyper-aware of what I said to myself--the words I sued to describe myself and my body--and I worked on a conscious and intentional level to treat myself with kindness and compassion.  As I began to replace the “I’m so fat” thoughts with the “I’m really cute” thoughts, my behavior began to change as well.  One of my intentions was to get in the best shape of my life, and I knew that, in addition to eating really well and thinking really kind thoughts about my body, I was going to have to actually move my body, too.  And I knew I was going to have to figure out a way to make moving joyful and fun.  

I still remember my decision to take that first walk.  It was not an easy decision.  It was a decision that I resisted and struggled with.  But I knew that if I was going to truly and deeply love all of me, I was going to have to find a way to give my body what it truly and deeply wanted, and what my body truly and deeply wanted was to move.

So I took a break at work.  I got out of my chair, put on my jacket, and headed out the door.  I walked for 15 minutes in one direction, turned around, and walked back.  There was a part of me that didn’t want to be seen.  There was a part of me that was embarrassed (“What would people think of me?”).  There was a part of me that didn’t want to sweat.   But there was a bigger part of me that enjoyed walking through a neighborhood that I rarely saw, even from my car.   There was a part of me that enjoyed seeing shops I’d never seen before.  There was a part of me that enjoyed the feeling of accomplishment from having done something good for my body.  

On that first walk, I found joy in movement.  I found pleasure in moving my body.  I found delight in sweat.

If you’re like I was, and are totally resisting the idea of moving your physical self, I have a little suggestion.  Find a way to infuse moving your body with fun, with pleasure, and with joy!

Up Next:  Internal Conflict, or How to Have Your Cake and Eat It, Too!