75 Medium

I’m not doing it. I’ll run, I’ll do jumping jacks, squats and lift weights, I’ll read books and drink water, but I’m not doing the 75 Hard. No way. 

Though I certainly wouldn’t say I lead a sedentary lifestyle, nevertheless, my current level of fitness is nothing to be proud of. In fact, I’d say I am the most out of shape I’ve ever been. While a non-negotiable part of my day is my morning and afternoon walk with the dogs, I find it easy to neglect actual exercise when my schedule is busy. 

I grew up in a family that prioritized physical fitness. A sports family. My dad was a cyclist. My mum a runner and a fitness instructor. My brothers and I swam competitively. Early mornings were the smell of chlorine-bleached hair. We competed nationally, travelled extensively for meets and training camps and trained six days a week, two practices a day all year long. For many years, swimming was my life. When an injury made the sport entirely unpleasant and physically no longer possible, I took up rowing. My brothers rowed, too. One went to U-23 Worlds while the other segued into ultra-distance running and swimming, Ironman training, and marathons.

And once competitive sport was behind me, I did my best to stay fit. Sometimes successfully and sometimes less so. 

The benefits of exercise are many, of course, but the motivations for working out vary. In my twenties, I was all about looking a certain way. I worked out with that in mind. I toned my thighs and my arms for appearance sake. It didn’t matter much to me whether I was strong or whether exercise contributed to my ability to do hard things or withstand challenging circumstances. That wasn’t the point. I cared more about looking good than feeling good. 

Since moving north, I’ve exercised so that I can participate in activities I love. A summer of hiking requires a winter of exercise. A multi-day cycling trip necessitates some training in advance. Competency on cross-country skis means I must practise. 

But recently, lots of things have gotten in the way and exercise has not been a priority. Consequently, I am out of shape. Really out of shape.

But. In early December, my brothers challenged me. They’re challenging all of us, really. We have to exercise every day. For me this means more than just the twice daily walks. The workout has to be at least 45 minutes long and has to involve with a sustained heart rate of 130 BPM or higher. It’s that or a mobility practice of a minimum of 20 minutes. 

Who am I to avoid a challenge? Perhaps I grumbled inwardly, but more likely I was a teeny bit grateful. And, indeed, I feel better. The daily routine is invigorating, reminding me immediately how absolutely fantastic I always feel when I’m exercising. It’s funny how quickly I forget that when life feels overwhelming. The thing I need most is the thing I’m prepared to drop the most quickly. Hm.

My brothers and I have dubbed the challenge the 75 Medium. 

It’s my brothers who urged me to share 75 Medium with the North Phase community. They tell me I should share about my marathon training. The ups, downs and all the in-betweens. After all, they say, you’re starting from near scratch. It will motivate others, encourage them. Your vulnerability will be appreciated. All that may be true, but I feel uncomfortable about it. 

I’ve thought a lot about why. Shouldn’t I just be able to work out without proclaiming it to the world? Am I buying into the ‘pics or it didn’t happen’ way of thinking? How will my sharing make other people feel? Will sharing this make me selfish? Egotistical? Narcissistic? My mind spirals when I think about this. And mid-spiral, I start to think about the inevitable narcissism that exists with sharing content online. Look at me, it screams. I spoke with a friend about this – the complexity of sharing – and she asked, “What motivated you to start sharing on North Phase?”

I didn’t know much about the north and neither did my friends and family. The sharing started small as a way to impart what I was learning about life in the north. That this reached a wider community was a bonus and a surprise. Through sharing about my life here in remote Bever Creek, I  have been able to connect with a wide community, a much, much wider community than I’d ever anticipated.

So, when I reflect on why I share, two specific answers come to mind. I share because it enables meaningful connection with people I might otherwise come across. And I share as a form of creative self-expression. 

There is much content online that I feel uncomfortable with. And when I see it, I wonder how what I share might be similar. Whether I might cause others to feel uncomfortable, too. The other day, while scrolling through my Instagram stories, I came across a picture depicting an extremely fit man on an assault bike. He had impeccably coifed hair, beads of sweat that appeared as meticulously placed as diamond accessories, and perfect attire. It was captioned, “punishment for the pita I ate yesterday.” I unfollowed him. 

Why, though? Shouldn’t I be lauding people who prioritize their physical health? Yes, and I think I do. I seem to experience a duality of emotions when confronted with ‘self-care’ content. On the one hand, I love seeing content in which people share how they’ve changed their lives, or content that depicts people challenging themselves or accomplishing incredible feats. And then there’s the content that lacks humility, that propagates the notion that moderation is to be loathed, that supports diet culture. Perhaps that’s what makes me uncomfortable. 

I guess I don’t want to take myself too seriously. I want to acknowledge that I am far from perfect. I want to express that I’ve struggled with this. I want to share in an honest and vulnerable way. So as to encourage others and connect with others who might be in a similar position. I want people to feel welcome, rather than ostracized. 

I don’t want to share content that makes people question their worth. Rather, I want to share content that reminds people of their worth. So maybe, by sharing honestly and openly about the exercise challenge on which I am embarking, I might connect with others for whom this is a struggle. And maybe, just maybe, some of you will join me on the journey of 75 Medium, which, instead of demanding perfection and extremes, acknowledges that doing your best is enough, that failure is a part of growth, and that more than anything, that exercise is about feeling good. 

So here I go: medium intensity, medium pace, medium water consumption, medium reading.