One of my first memories of gym class was in elementary school: we were playing kickball. The teacher explained the rules (surprise, surprise, you kick a ball) and made it especially clear that the kicker lost the team a point if they 1) kicked the ball and a fielder caught it before it touched the ground or 2) your shoe flew off while you kicked the ball. I laughed with everyone at the last one. What kind of idiot lets their shoe fly off while kicking a ball?
I did.
It’s my turn, and I’m so ready. I’m gonna kick that ball, I think, I’m gonna kick that bouncy ball so hard that no catcher would even dream of catching it. And, you know what? I did.
With all the muster in my 9-year-old legs, I kicked so powerfully that my shoe joined the ball in the air. It did a couple of flips up there, too, with great air time. It would’ve scored great in competitive figure skating.
Long story short: I never enjoyed gym class and I didn’t do any sports as a kid. I avoided anything that had to do with movement, figuring it would probably end up like the shoe incident.
But I liked moving! At home, I would dance around in my basement or follow along with yoga videos on YouTube. However, I only liked exercising if I was completely alone. I’d freak out if anyone (mostly just my mom) walked into one of my impromptu solo dance sessions or if I had to play a sport in gym class. I believed that movement had to be a sleek performance that you had to approach with natural skill and grace, or else everyone would stop where they were and point and laugh at you. I had a growth spurt in the fifth grade, so I was a bigger kid. Gawky and taking up more space than most, I felt I lacked this inherent grace and preferred instead to draw inwards. In short, I was terrified of movement, of exercise, especially in front of others. Truly, the psychological repercussions of middle school gym classes should be studied.
Then, in high school, I had a major character growth spurt and joined the tennis team! I was still terrified and mortally embarrassed, but my friends were there and I wanted to try despite my discomfort.
So, I’d stay after practice every day and hit with my best friend. Soon, it became a regular hobby of mine, but my relationship with movement was still fraught. Now, when I worked out, it had to be the hardest workout or nothing. I had to be the best—walks had to be runs, yoga had to be HIIT. Sure, it was productive, but I was doing it to compensate for my insecurity in playing tennis. Overall, I was anxious all of the time. Most of the time, I didn’t enjoy exercising; instead, it felt like a self-punishment for not being as athletic as I wanted.
Soon, this mindset grew unsustainable. The strain from my consistent self-judgment was grating, leaving me even more afraid to step on the courts—even if I was improving. Now, I could have quit the sport, and gotten rid of this constant anxiety; but, something inside of me wanted to stay. So, I focused on that little string of contentment and unraveled it, finding out what about tennis made me happy. I liked being outside, liked to see myself improve, liked the strategy of the game, and liked playing with my friends. Focusing on those aspects of the game, my overall happiness and enjoyment skyrocketed.
All of this has led me to realize that cultivating a relationship with your body and movement can’t always be out of the need to be better, skinnier, more muscular, or for validation from anyone other than yourself. Relying on negative emotions like insecurity, anger, or spite as motivation may provide short-term drive but won’t sustain you for long. Instead, these feelings will slowly ingrain into your identity as you keep turning back searching for them.
I still love tennis, but I changed my motivation. I play because I love it instead of interlinking my self-worth with how well I play. (I definitely don’t recommend linking self-worth with anything external!) Then, in my senior year of high school, I became team captain. I still play with my friends when the weather is nice. Because of tennis, I’ve learned to move, to exercise, to work out because I want to and because I like to.
So, over time I’ve asked myself why I like movement and exercise—not why I should do it. Here’s my working list:
Self Love
Your body is a part of you; it takes care of you. When I move my body, whether that be a vigorous workout or a morning stretch, I do it in hopes of reciprocating that care.
Care for your body how you see fit. If you’re going to exercise, do it for yourself, whatever that means to you. You don’t have to do it because “you should,” because your friends are, or to get your “ideal summer body.” Instead, do it because you like feeling stronger, you like how it makes you feel, or because you like feeling productive.
On a similar note, find what movement suits you. Maybe you hate cardio but like lifting. Maybe you hate weights and treadmills but can get with some pilates. Maybe you just like walks. Seriously, just moving at all is great. But if you consistently force yourself to do a workout that you hate or is painful, you probably won’t leave the session feeling satisfied and the chances of you returning may grow slim.
Overall, I like making my body a safe and cared-for home, but life can get in the way. Don’t beat yourself up when this happens. Remember, you’re doing it for yourself. Malicious self-scolding will make you feel worse, and that’s kind of against the whole point.
Connecting To Your Body
In the same way that the brain learns to ignore the constant sensations of clothing rubbing against the skin, it may also easily tune out the variety of body parts it’s always stringing along.
But go on a run, and you’ll become acutely aware of the village of parts it takes to jog around the block. Feel the gallon or so of blood pumping through your body and rushing oxygen into each intricate capillary, down each limb. Feel the cavities of your lungs rallying for oxygen. Wipe the sweat off your skin and feel your heartbeat underneath it, setting the metronome of your life.
Put simply, moving my body reminds me that it’s there. Like cranking a machine to its full potential, you see the small cogs you’re built of that may have slipped your mind, your body a flowing river of life and movement.
Sometimes, it doesn’t feel that poetic, though. Sometimes, the tiredness is stubborn, or you push too hard. But, that’s good to know; stay mindful of your body’s limits.
This connection is especially important to me as a college student whose day-to-day life can easily drift into pure stationary study. Movement can be a great grounding tool, reminding us that our minds aren’t bobbling balloons floating into the nether spheres of our thoughts. We have a place in the space around us.
Sweet, Sweet Dopamine
Humans are meant to move; it’s a biological necessity. Luckily, our bodies know this and reward us with endorphins (the body’s feel-good neurotransmitter) and dopamine (the body’s reward system). So after movement, you’ll likely feel uplifted.
Generally, my mental state improves after going to the gym. Sometimes, it’s annoying. I mean, yes, I guess I did the thing that every health person says to do… and yes… it did what they said it would. Who would have thought?
Occasionally when I get unmotivated, I’ll start thinking about working out like enrichment time. You know, cats run around with yarn or laser pointers and dogs chase their tails or squirrels—we run around Upper Lake or the gym. We have to get our zoomies out.
Friends
Oftentimes, movement can be an opportunity for connection with friends: gym buddies, walks, hikes, recreational sports, etc. I still play tennis with one of my best friends from home. I’m not the best at it but we dress up in our cute little sports clothes, get outside, and spend time together. Hiking has also become a great pastime of ours. Over the summer we found all the hiking trails in our hometown and spent about every other day taking walks. At school, I’ve got my trusty gym buddy. I’m stretching myself in my dance class (both physically and mentally) with a bunch of cool people, and I love to take walks around campus.
Overall, I’m grateful for the positive relationship I have developed with movement. It’s not always an easy connection to foster but I believe it is a worthwhile one. If you feel like I did, I suggest giving it a try. I think my nine-year-old self who was secretly blasting One Direction and making up dances in my basement, would be ecstatic to see that I’ve finally found the courage to join a dance class and embrace the joy of movement and creativity that has always been a part of me.