I am smiling at myself as I type this because todays post makes me sound like those people who have just gotten into a relationship and then started dishing out advice. Well let me set your heart at ease and assure you that I have no advice to give, or at last I have stopped being those people. Mostly because half the time i have no idea what I am doing and the other half of the time life is set up in a way to embarrass the loudest people. So I am pretty content with just telling my stories, especially with my recent surge in creative juices/ big need to have a creative outlet.

This week, I restarted my movement journey…more like revived the movement aspect of my life. I will not discount the role of my scale in pushing me to this point because in all honesty, that little machine can give you high blood pressure unprovoked, but also I am generally happier moving. Its something that I developed in my early teens when Cynthia and I would go and jog a lap over break time. While she was jogging because she liked it (i think), I was just trying not to be the last one in the next PE class when that sadistic teacher, Mr. Ngota, made us run. You know that thing they said about practice? yeah that one. Except, it never really worked because not only was everyone in the class significantly smaller, but there were also boys and their testosterone card, while I had to contend with my endomorph metabolism. In that moment however, I didn’t hate running, though I didn’t like it either.

Cue High school, where we had Jogging once a week at 0400hrs, two PE lessons and games once a week which almost always involved running. It was expected that you shouldn’t stop even when you were tired or else you would be punished. Rumor has it that they thought our very normal growth was us being fat and unhealthy and all these programs were to make us fit or more like less fat. So I hated running. It was such stressful conditions that were enshrouded with so much fear. We used to sleep in running gear and some even in shoes so that when the morning came you would literally jump out of bed straight into running. I was ever found walking and made to do frog jumps for about 100 meters.

The fun part of sports that I was interested in was there too. Like swimming. It was part of our PE class and there was also a swim team. A bunch of other sports that I wasn’t interested in also had clubs. The catch however was, you had to be already good at said sport in order to join. There was no space for you to start from a learning space. We were left with the scary stuff as movement

So definitely I made the correlation between movement and stress and not being good at it. That was the space I was getting into the real world from. My university life was pretty free from attempting to move. Lets just say I lived in some reckless abandon and it just wasn’t a struggle of mine for the most part. I tried a bit in my second year of school to do some jogging, but that was mostly because it was a workout date…and B just happens to be irresistible. Ps: there is something about seeing B workout (don’t tell him I said it). The walking to and from school was all I did and sometimes the route would be longer because I went to find B after school.

There was also the fact that being comfortable while working out was a near impossibility for me. You see I lived at home through campus and the home of staunch Seventh Day Adventists has its own rules. In my home trousers were unheard of and the idea of wearing them even within the confines of your house was not tolerated. So every time I wanted to pick up working out or a jog, just getting round to thinking of what I should wear would quickly dissuade me from even trying, it wasn’t worth the stress.

In my sixth year however, I signed up for my first gym membership. I signed up because the scale had me shook and I felt like I needed to do something about it. I had little to no idea what I was doing and mostly slid in to walk on the treadmill and push a few cable machines then go home. And it worked…I managed to meet my targets and enjoy movement for the first time in a very long time. Ever since its been an on again off again situation in my life. I try and make the on days more than the off days every given time.

This previous week was one of the on times. I had taken an unintentional break because of circumstances and my mental space. In my adult life I find that having all your monkeys swinging at the same time is almost an impossibility. So deadlines and some depressive thoughts made it really difficult for me to efficiently have a movement/ workout routine. So I took a break and also had to travel in the process, and then life. seriously, life is the best excuse for everything…but, I am back on the movement train. I’m done with a full week and I couldn’t be prouder of myself.

I decided to make this phase of movement as easy as I can, because all the times I have complicated it, I have messed up with my consistency, which is the most important aspect. So I decided that I am wearing what my body feels comfortable in and of course its always a plus when its cute. This season I have been gravitating towards shorts which I got for myself, and sweatpants for my evening walks. I am going for 3 days a week that include lifting mild to moderate weights and resistance workouts and two cardio days a week. Incorporating daily walking is also part of the plan. The goal is at least 6000 steps though sometimes I fall short. B joins me on some of the walks and I also have my handy dandy wireless earphones for days he doesn’t come along. I don’t have my diet covered yet, but I’m hoping to figure that out in the next month… For now I am pretty excited for this week.

Hows your movement coming along?

Hugs,