My strongest memory of junior-high-school gym (physical
education) is standing in the green grass of the softball outfield with a baseball glove on my right hand. I watched
the batter, fervently hoping she wouldn’t hit the ball anywhere near me. I was
a below-average softball player and my focus was on avoiding making a fool of
myself and angering my teammates. We chose our own positions and right field was mine.
The majority of our class were right-handed, who tend to hit
into left field, so right field was the plum position for the non-athletic.
When I was about sixteen, my mom suggested I take fencing lessons at
the Westfield YMCA. I bought a left-handed foil as well as a mask
and white padded jacket. It was a small class. Doug, who lived one town over, bought a
sportscar our senior year and he let me drive it once, teaching me how to use the stick shift. Then we lay in the grass of my front yard and talked as the stars came out. I haven't fenced in years, but recently I've impresssed my six-year-old grandson, Andrew, with my swordplay.
In college I fell in love with archery. We traveled in a white van to nearby schools to compete in intermurals. My coach had a habit
of saying, “Good girl!” whenever one of us did something well. As a
child of the early seventies and a subscriber to Ms Magazine, I knew that I
should resist being called a girl at age nineteen, but I soaked it up. I felt her love and great caring. She wanted all the best for me.
In the late eighties, I bought a Kathy Smith
aerobics video, washed out two empty one-gallon cooking-oil bottles, and filled them with water to use as hand
weights. Then I filled two old sox with rolls of pennies for ankle weights. I got pretty good at the routine, then did it off and on, and now haven't done it for a long time.
Now in my sixties, I’ve noticed my arms are thinner and weaker and I need to huff and puff when climbing outdoor stairs. I used to cart 50-lb. bags of flour, sugar, and oats into the house; now 25 lbs. are a challenge. I would occasionally try to start an exercise habit, but between boredom and
busyness, it never stuck.
Two months ago I decided to try it again. I went online to
find a routine and some instruction on how to do exercises correctly. I
discovered a website that seemed custom-made for me. Nerd Fitness Academy (this isn’t a
commercial, just a report of my experience) offered just what I was
looking for: a graded progression of exercises complete with instructional
videos. And there's fun: the academy is structured like a video game. I chose a
character and wrote a story about myself. I get XPs for my accomplishments:
calendaring my first week of workouts, getting a ‘dream team’ to report my
progress to. When I want to level up to a fresh, harder workout, I do a boss
battle to defeat the latest enemy: General DOMS (delayed-onset muscular
soreness) was the first.
I’ve only missed a handful of my thrice weekly workouts: I’m taking it seriously. I email my 'dream team' with my progress. And
I’ve begun to see results. I can do more knee push-ups (what we used to
call girl push-ups) and balance longer on one leg.
Steve Kamb, creator of Nerd Fitness, counseled me to expunge “I don’t have time” and
replace it with “It’s not a priority.” Priorities aren’t what we say, but what
we do.
I read this idea three weeks ago and it is slowly changing me. I look more deeply into how I’m spending my time. Emergencies arise, but with my new thought: is this a priority? I can move forward
with my life. I missed a workout while travelling. Chatting with friends and relatives who live far away became my priority over
the workout. But there are choices I make every day that bear scrutiny if I'm serious about my stated priorities.
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