Fitbit or bust? An introduction to my complicated relationship with food and exercise.

Today I wore my new Fitbit. It’s a watch that reveals my deepest secrets. I have owned several Fitbits. They have either gotten lost or I have gotten frustrated with charging them or angry at myself for not reaching my goals. I’ve even gotten angry at myself when I’ve reached my goals, but they weren’t recorded by my Fitbit because it wasn’t charged or I forgot to wear it. If your Fitbit didn’t count the steps, they weren’t walked. Right?

So with my new Fitbit, I walked to the beach. Given that it’s summer and that I’m jet lagged, and my kids are jetlagged, I spend a lot of time sitting. So, I made myself get off the couch and walk to the beach. It would be the only way for me to reach my 10,000 steps today, never mind that we own a treadmill that I’ve used twice in the year that we’ve had it. I would allegedly use it more if my husband installed the shelf he promised to install so that I could watch t.v. on the ipad. Why should I try to install it myself or call the elderly handyman to do it? If I did that, then I’d have to walk on the treadmill or feel worse about the fact that I don’t.

See? I'm athletic.

It's not that I'm not athletic. I have some athletic ability. I have good hand-eye coordination. I can play sports. I just have issues with physical fitness and have, sadly, for more than 30 years. (Or perhaps sadder is all of the energy I spent lamenting, and obsessing over my size eight jeans when now I wear a 10 or 12. Or to cropping pictures that I felt made me look fat when now I have an actual pouch.)

There is little that I feel more defeatist and more negative about than exercise and my weight. I’ve felt this way since I was 9 or 10, when I realized I was overweight. I’ve never wanted to exercise more and eat less, even, or perhaps especially, when I’ve committed to do so.

I could lie to you and say that I don’t have time to exercise or that I barely eat. But it’s not true. You may look at me empathetically and say, “Well, you do work full time, and you do have two small children.” But the thing is, I do have time, I just choose not to exercise. There are moms who work more hours with more children who exercise.  I also know how not to exceed my calorie intake-exercise ratio, but I really just want to eat what I want to eat.

So, one might argue that I should embrace my slovenliness. There are body acceptance movements that I’ve thought of being apart of. They don’t discourage exercise, but they do forbid body shaming. I don’t know if I can get on board with being proud of my body. Deprogramming years of contrary messages would take more work than, well, exercising and being part of a Facebook group.

Now usually comes the time when several friends will recommend yoga. You should do yoga (which is code for “you need a therapist.”) I have tried doing yoga probably 100 times. And each time I’ve hated it. First of all, I never feel like I’ve worked out. I trust all of the beautiful celebrities that it’s a workout, but it’s never felt like one to me. I also hated being adjusted by the instructor and because I’m uncoordinated and not flexible, I constantly needed adjusting. Sure, most instructors would ask, “Can I adjust you?” But saying no seemed really aggressive, even though in my head I thought “Noooooooooo!!!!!!” The last time I did yoga, at my gym in Chicago, during shivasana (so annoying the cultural appropriation), I made a promise to myself: I will never do yoga again. I have been very committed to that practice.

I’ve also been committed to working out with a trainer once a week. I’ve been working out with a trainer for about 15 years. Here’s the thing with working out with a trainer. After the first five years, you really shouldn’t need a trainer unless your problem is motivation, which mine is. I started working out with a trainer after an exbf encouraged me to run. He was a marathon runner and being fit was super important to him. I jogged with him for one minute and I immediately ran out of breath. He said something I will never forget, “It’s disgusting that you can’t run a few hundred feet without getting winded.” This guy wasn’t particularly emotionally abusive at this point in our relationship, but that line certainly was. Later he apologized by saying that he was used to dating physically fit women, but I had other good qualities. Thanks?

Running has never been my thing. I played soccer, goalie, and until I got to high school my slow pace never mattered. However, in high school, that wasn’t the case. For three years, every day at the end of summer and during the fall, the entire team would run in two lines. The person in the back would have to sprint to the front. This went on during the entire run (at least that’s how I recall it). I could last a couple of laps, and then I had to go at my own pace. Then, after the team had completed all of their laps, the captains would have to come out and bring the stragglers home (read: run more). I was always a straggler and perhaps there were one or two others. However, I was the consistent weak link.

The first three years, I didn’t mind the humiliation of being escorted by the captains. The captains were not my close friends. And honestly, I did try my best. I did train during the year. However, my senior year two of my close friends were captains. The third captainwasn’t a close friend, but still a peer I respected who could outrun anybody with two huge knee braces on her legs.  During that first practice, they had to bring me home w after doing many, many of those sprint-laps in the midwest summer heat. As we ran in, and the rest of the team looked on and clapped for the senior straggler, I thought about how many times my friends would have to “bring me home” that season. The next day I came to practice and told the coach that I quit. It wasn’t easy. Despite what I’ve written, I’m not a quitter. However, I couldn’t take the guilt and humiliation of those laps day after day.

After quitting soccer, I barely ever ran. I tried 5ks, but I was so slow, I didn’t see the point of paying 30 bucks for my lack of fitness recorded in a database. Also, the snacks at the finish line usually erased any calories I burned at the 5k. Also, every time I would run as an adult, I would get injured.  I did ride in Little 500 my freshman year of college. I also rode in the MS 150 when I was 30. There have been times when I could commit to fitness. But these have been short lived.

MS 150. Could have used a road bike. 

So after the disgusting comment, I hired a trainer. Training has been really wonderful for me, but very costly. However, I keep spending the money because otherwise I wouldn’t work out even once a week. In addition, it has increased my strength, although still not my cardiovascular health. I do credit training to making my deliveries and postnatal recoveries easier. (If you need a trainer in Chicago, LA, or Israel, I can recommend some great ones).

Buzz buzz. Oh, thank God. I hit my 10,000 steps. Will I hit them tomorrow? Or the next day? Or next week? I hope so. Otherwise my husband has already called dibs on the Fitbit so he can use it while he’s running on the treadmill.