5:00 a.m. comes early.
A few mornings a week, I get out of bed, get dressed and head outside to meet my friend in the street. From there, we drive to the gym together.
There is something about that little meeting that has become part of the practice for me. At an hour when most of the neighborhood is still quiet, there she is.
She is a die-hard. Three days a week, she is going.
Me? I get on a roll.
And then life happens.
I may have a stretch when I’m right there with her three mornings a week. Then work gets busy, I haven’t slept well, or there are simply too many other things competing for my attention. I take a day off. Sometimes two.
And she doesn’t judge me for it.
I’m grateful to have a friend who is so committed to her own practice, while still giving me the space to find my way back to mine.
When I meet her outside again, we just go.
No guilt. No catching up for what I missed.
Just returning.
Sometimes the Practice is the Friendship
Our time together has become about much more than getting some exercise.
During those early morning drives and our time at the gym, we catch up on what’s happening in our lives. We talk about our goals, encourage each other and sometimes simply listen.
My routine itself is pretty simple: about 30 minutes on the elliptical followed by 10 minutes in the massage chair.
And yes, I consider those 10 minutes part of the practice.
I’m not training for anything. I’m not trying to transform myself. I’m moving my body in a way that feels manageable and gives me a little more energy for the day ahead.
A Little More, Not Too Much
I’ve learned that my body doesn’t particularly appreciate an all-or-nothing approach to exercise.
I like to push myself a little, but a little matters.
If I increase the resistance on the elliptical, I don’t also require myself to maintain the same speed. I let one thing change at a time.
If I ask too much of myself, my nervous system has a way of letting me know.
So instead of more resistance AND more speed AND more time, I might simply add a little resistance and allow my pace to find its own place.
It keeps things simple.
And, more importantly, it keeps movement feeling like something I can return to rather than something I need to recover from.
Balancing My Thoughts With My Actions
I spend a fair amount of time thinking.
I read. I meditate. I reflect. I notice what’s happening in my body.
All of those things have a place in my daily practices.
But sometimes I need to stop thinking and do something.
Get out of bed.
Put on the sneakers.
Meet my friend outside.
Get in the car.
Move for 30 minutes.
Sit in that massage chair for 10 glorious minutes.
I’m still learning the balance between listening to myself and giving myself a gentle push.
Sometimes listening means resting.
Sometimes it means recognizing that I’m overwhelmed and taking something off my plate.
And sometimes it means knowing that although my bed feels particularly inviting at 5:00 in the morning, I’ll probably be glad I got up and went.
I’m learning that caring for myself can include both.
Returning Counts
There will probably never be a perfect three-days-a-week gym streak for me.
I’m okay with that.
My friend will probably continue to be the die-hard one. And I’m very grateful for her.
What matters to me is that when life interrupts, I haven’t quit.
I return.
Maybe that’s something worth thinking about in your own movement practice.
It doesn’t have to be the gym. It might be walking, stretching, dancing in the kitchen, swimming, gardening or something entirely different.
And it doesn’t have to look exactly the same every week.
Perhaps the practice isn’t proving how disciplined you can be.
Perhaps it’s learning what helps you keep coming back.
A little movement.
A little support.
A little more when it feels right.
And then we return.
Paula
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