Exercising without a weight loss goal – part 3

TW: Discusses diet and exercise, please skip this blog if these are difficult or triggering topics for you!

Disclaimer: I am not a fitness or health professional, nor do I have any background in nutrition, this is just a personal, observational anecdote.

You can find part 1 here

and part 2 here

I wasn’t sure if I was going to do another post this year because I thought maybe I’d said everything I wanted to say on the topic but I thought I’d put metaphorical pen to metaphorical paper and see what happens.

The short version of the background behind these posts is: I have a long history of minor injuries (plus whiplash from a car crash), which all colluded together in 2019 into a trapped nerve, in a similar spot to the sciatic nerve. This caused an electric shock feeling spasming down my leg, which was excruciating. It got well enough for me to stop having physio just as the U.K locked down for COVID and when we emerged, my body that had always been athletic in build (even with a little extra chunk here and there) was not recognisable. It could not do what it used to. It did not look like it used to. I could not trust it anymore.

And since I have always been sporty, I did not know how to train that type of body, so I enlisted the help of an amazing PT. Over the last couple years since then, I have been making posts marvelling at how different it is to exercise when the primary focus is not dieting, or weight loss but in the joy of movement and feeling good.

So, what’s the update?

I am finally, finally starting to see a body I recognise in the mirror. I can do things without worrying too much about pain, although, on very active days, there will always be some but it’s short lived and manageable. Milestones have gone from major breakthroughs like being able to crouch, or climb stairs without pain, to recovering faster and lifting bigger weights than before my injury.

My fitness has improved to the point that I have to actively challenge myself in the gym in order to get something out of it. I can’t just go through the motions, I have to push myself and I forgot how much I enjoyed the high of a workout that properly pushes your boundaries. I was a sprinter before and I missed that feeling of going so fast my heart raced, except now I’ve found I chase that feeling my going swimming. It’s not the same, it will never be the same but a part of this whole ‘journey’ (I hate that term) has been accepting this new body and its limitations. I will never sprint for an hour again. But I may run again.

This has been a part of a larger mission to just generally live a more contented existence. I make a constant effort to manage my sleep issues. I feed myself well, or at least I try to and achieving this 60% of the time is still better than those microwaves meals, junk or just literally nothing I used to live off. I do things I enjoy. I balance work with life. I set boundaries with myself so I don’t run myself into the ground (burnout queens give me a shout). I make sure I rest. I make sure I feel my feelings instead of barreling through it by keeping busy and that I feel them out loud and unapologetically.

And this shit works you know. How annoying.

So, in conclusion, working out to make your body feel better = feeling better. What a shock. Without the shame of dieting culture, or societal expectations about you getting too thin, or too muscley, or too this, too that (see the speech from Barbie before I get on that pedestal). Regular exercise, in whatever form it may take for you, just for the joy of being in a body that moves easily and feels good, is so much better than the shame cycle most women know so well.

My update 2 was a big old rant about diet culture, so we won’t get into all that again.

There’s two things I want to talk about though that have been on my mind:

Pain

Let’s talk about pain because my chronic pain peeps need to be acknowledged for what they go through. I do not count myself in the chronic pain camp, mine goes more often that it comes and having recently been a bit silly and over exerted myself. The amount of big ouch I’ve felt and how much of a baby I’ve been means my pain tolerance has finally dipped, which means I know I’m not in a low level of pain always.

But, the pain I was in when the injury was at it’s worst? Indescribable. I have only really begun to deal with that time recently because I was in a very stressful job at the time and I wasn’t ready to reflect on it all until in the last year. Have you ever been in so much pain you felt sick? Have you ever been hurt so badly the pain rolls through you in agonising waves, throbbing with every heartbeat? Now add the feeling of lightening travelling down your left half. But then imagine you’re supposed to go to work, smile and keep yourself and your space clean, thank fuck I don’t have kids or anyone to care for.

I’m not kidding when I tell you I would have sold my soul to make it stop. Instead, I paid money to a nice physio man and then to a PT.

How people in chronic pain do every day life, I don’t know. I know technically, you don’t have a choice, of course, but I think it’s still admirable. It’s still impressive. Pain takes so much of your body’s energy, it leaches colour out of things that should be enjoyable.

So, I wanted to mention it. As I reflect on how awful that time was, this is what I think about.

Rest

The second thing I’ve realised on this little fitness, wellbeing blah blah blah kick I’ve been on, is how hard it is to consciously decide to rest.

By that I mean, in my case, not forcing myself to go from thing to thing, or, if I have a busy week, to carve out intentional moments of chill time too. I like to be busy, I always have, but when you work full time, there’s only so much the body can take. I think hustle culture had me convinced I should be using my commute (before I could drive) to be productive, instead of watching TikTok’s and downing my coffee. Exercise culture had me feeling shame for skipping a work out, even if I was exhausted from work and would hate every god damn second. A lot of motivational gym bro quotes talk about persevering regardless but in my opinion that shit is disordered eating and exercising dressed in a shiny coat of paint. It is too hard to do everything in this modern world, you cannot juggle work, a social life, relationships, family, exercise, hobbies etc perfectly. You must find the balls to drop, or set down temporarily, and do something that gives more energy than it takes. Most importantly, in doing so, you have not failed.

Rest has its place within an exercise routine. It should have a place in life in general.

Maybe we don’t need to be productive all the time? I like to always be doing but, frankly, the only reason I have experienced this revelation is because the person I am dating has made it their mission to enforce rest days. Or encourage it when I do it voluntarily. Apparently, having six hours free on a Tuesday is ‘not healthy’. Go figure.

The reason I tie this into the exercising without a weight loss goal is because, by not watching a scale or driving myself into the ground for a target, I have made space for rest. There is no shame in it. There is no shame in choosing to take one evening off, if it means I will do the next thing better and with less resentment in me.

I believe the reason so many people do not ever find a way to incorporate healthy movement in their lives (whatever that looks like for you) is that they are already pre-disposed to resent it and hate it. Exercise got wrapped up in self hatred and guilt, it became synonymous with ‘weigh ins’ where a pound gained is vilified (which, frankly, is just the amount of a big shit, let’s be honest). It became synonymous with whether you were a failure or not. I’ve always said, the only reason I’ve always been able to keep a steady routine is because I’m one of those weirdoes that genuinely enjoys exercise. I don’t think its easy to make exercise a part of your life if you don’t enjoy it, so when you add the shamey bullshit on top, it’s really hard.

So, when a break is not equated to failure, I think it becomes a huge part of becoming consistent.

Anyway, for anyone who made it to the end, thank you. I don’t know if these posts help other people but they help me puzzle out my relationship with all this and it’s nice to reflect on my progress.

Once again, I will emphasise that I have no expertise in diet/ nutrition or fitness, this just a story from my life and about my feelings. I am a single adult with no children, so while I’ve tried to write this with generic enough language, it is still written from the perspective of someone who does not juggle exercise with other responsibilities.

I would also like to acknowledge that there is an ED which focuses on ‘health’ in an extremist way, so please be aware that this line of thinking can also become toxic, always seek proper help when you need it. I do not have an ED history or body dysmorphia, so I would also like to acknowledge that this blog is written from the perspective of someone who does not know what it’s like to struggle with those things and my opinions shared here may not be helpful to someone who does- I’m hoping the trigger warning at the top caught you but I wanted to make sure that was noted again.