Day 23: What Does It Mean To Be Fit?

Some thoughts, and questions, as I head forward. Last night's yoga class (90 minutes) was tough, but also eased my sore muscles to some degree. I've been icing my back regularly, too, with my husband's help. Today is better. I hope to swim tonight, practice blowing bubbles, kicking with a flutterboard, and possibly swimming a lap or two if my muscles can hack it. 8pm in an outdoor pool, on a cool Canadian August evening!

Question 1: What does it mean to be fit? Is it about being healthy? Having stamina and endurance? Is it a fairly recent cultural construct, or does it have its roots in some deeper pursuit? What has fitness meant in an historical context? What does it mean to me, personally? Am I fit if I can run 9k and do a 90 minutes yoga class on the same day, but don't have the energy to pick up my kids and carry them to bed, or organize a picnic in the park? (No, is my gut response).

Question 2: Do I need a goal in order to exercise daily? In other words, is the goal--this future attempt that I will make--more critical to my motivation than the daily routine of exercise itself? I hope not. I want everything that I am doing to be worthy and worthwhile in and of itself, so that an early morning run is not just a step toward completing a larger goal, but is a peaceful moment in time, a time of quiet reflection, or of solitary thought, or of getting to know the limitations of my body and respecting my body during this brief moment in time (the hour or so that I am running).

It has occurred to me that this pursuit focuses largely on my body ... on its day-to-day capacity, its aches and pains, its limitations and strengths. I am wondering why I feel the urge to focus on my body. Is it vanity? Occasionally, I suspect that it is; but it can't be just that, because I am already pleased and satisfied with the way my body looks. And because so much of what I'm doing in training has the opposite effect: makes me look silly or red-faced or damp or bedraggled or in many ways not in the least attractive. And I don't honestly care.

But I do care about my body. I want to be healthy. I want to be connected to it. I want to understand and have compassion for my body. What I'm figuring out (the hard way) is that my body has intrinsic limitations that have nothing to do with what my mind would have it do or become. My body will protest if pushed too hard, too fast. My body will break down. Having the desire to do something is not the same thing as having the ability to follow through. So. What do I want to do? I want to complete a triathlon. I don't believe it is an unreasonable goal, or an impossible goal. But I can also see that it won't be completed in quite the way I had imagined, by me pushing myself through twice daily work-outs. I will have to work around a daily work-out that responds to where I'm at physically (and mentally). Yesterday, yoga fit perfectly with my body's needs and pain. Today, I hope swimming will feel playful rather than difficult.

A lot of my contentment, my sense of failure or achievement, has to do with whether or not I've met my own expectations. I need to spread my expectations out over a long haul, rather than feeling impatient. I have time. I need to give myself time to grow and figure this out gently and compassionately. I do not know why it is so much harder for me to be compassionate with myself than with others.