fitness for bibliophiles: the freshwater

“I can see you change,” he told us, his eyes narrowed in interest. “Your body language. How you talk. Your eyes. You’re not always the same person, are you?”
Freshwater, by Akwaeke Emezi

It took a really long time for me to get into a workout routine. My entire life, all the physical activity I did was dictated by others–PE in elementary school and eighth grade, ballet folklórico because my sister did it, swim team because Tucson is hot and what else are you going to do, riding my bike because it gave me independence and it’s how I met up with my friends around the neighborhood. I did not like team sports because I was afraid of the ball and uncoordinated. (As opposed to now, when I am still afraid of the ball but slightly more coordinated.) And given I was being treated for a condition I didn’t have (asthma) instead of a breathing condition I did have (vocal cord dysfunction), it was difficult and embarrassing to engage in physical activity.

It wasn’t until I was about 26 that I liked exercise, and it was even longer before I developed a solid routine and regimen–a diet, so to speak, of exercise. And just because I have one doesn’t mean it’s never going to change. I’m a librarian by training, even though I don’t work in a library anymore, and one of our guiding philosophies is that if you don’t like to read, you just haven’t found the right book yet. If you don’t like exercise yet, buy a bunch of Groupons, join classpass, find studios and gyms in your area that offer a free first class, or sign up for free trials of streaming fitness services and go wild! Just as the best book to read is the book you want to read, the best type of workout is the one you actually want to do. So with trial and error, you’ll find something.

But don’t stop there. The theory of muscle confusion is pretty much debunked at this point, but variance does lead to better fitness outcomes. It can be something as simple as increasing the weight you’re lifting, adding more reps, or doing interval training. For me, though, I’m less and less interested in traditional cardio machines, and I can’t do a lot of traditional weightlifting after multiple arm and wrist injuries, so that’s not going to work for me. What does work for me is keeping about four different modalities going. Right now that’s Pilates, indoor cycling, p.volve, and aqua fitness. That allows me to use different muscles in different ways, accommodate my injuries and limitations, and not overtrain. I’ve done overtraining and it was the worst. For the most part, I’m doing these things two, one, two, and one time a week, and I feel the best I’ve felt in a long time.

Ada is a protagonist whose selves are splintered. She is more than one person, and those different people process different events, happy and sad, exhilarating and traumatic, at different times. This book is heart-shattering and vindicating to read, from the college angst to the meditations on mental illness. As someone who lives with mental illness, though not those that Ada has (and are they just illnesses? Magic realism complicates that notion), I totally loved this book.

I’m not always the same person. I’m not always in the same mood. I don’t always have the same physical, mental, or emotional needs. So how could I always need the same workout?

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fitness for bibliophiles: the any old book will do

never-half-ass-two-things-whole-ass-one-thing

I disagree.

I mean, yeah, of course. That is a true thing that Ron Swanson has said there. If I took that advice more often, I would already have about five novels published and be in much better shape in my career. But sometimes you don’t have the energy to whole-ass anything, and so you may as well half-ass at least a thing or two. If it’s a question of half-assing two things or doing nothing at all, pick the former.

You’ve heard that “sitting is the new smoking“? Research is showing that even if you are an active person, you’re probably still going to die young. I bought a Jawbone tracker a few months ago and have definitely noticed that even if I exercise 60-120 minutes a day, which I generally do, I still have trouble remembering to get up and walk around. Last year, when I worked in a library, I was at least standing up and sitting down pretty regularly. Now, though? I have my step counter set to an 8000-step-a-day goal (I figure that with the amount of exercise I do on machines like stationary bikes, that’s a sufficient goal rather than the usual 10,000), and I only meet it about half the time. Sure, the thing is not perfect–it regularly tells me I’m being idle if I’m standing and walking around my kitchen cooking, just because I’m not swinging my arms enough, I guess, but it’s a decent approximation.

I would like to not die young. One of my biggest exercise motivators, besides needing to make rent, is not wanting to die ever. Also, because group fitness is my main area of activity, even if I’m not always the teacher, sometimes I just need me time. Off the couch. I get a lot of me time because I live alone. But it’s not the same, you know? Anyway.

When I was in grad school, I always had a ton of reading to do. I have more to do now, given that it’s my main area of employment and I’m on a literary award committee. And I’m going back to grad school in August, so that will add even more. Reading is necessarily a stationary activity…

…or is it?

Only somewhat.

When I came to the realization that my $19 a month Boston gym membership was still costing me real money, I realized that if I took my reading to the gym, I could at least give my body a slight boost. So I hopped on the T (or walked, when the weather was nice) and went to GymIt, parked myself on a recumbent bike or elliptical, turned up the resistance a little, and read my book.

Was I working super hard? No. Was I increasing my cardiovascular fitness? Probably not. I wasn’t trying to do anything but make my legs move and get my reading done. I’m going to say that a recumbent bike serves the same purpose as standing and walking around when you’re just trying to counteract the stationary nature of your life.  Not that I have a degree in physiology, but it seems logical.

I’m prone to vertigo, so I was not going to sprint on the elliptical. I was not, for many reasons, going to run on the elliptical. However, so long as I took the occasional break to look around the room and take a sip of water, I was able to read without any problem while still making my legs work and burning a few calories. It’s easy to hold a paperback while on a recumbent bike, but I recommend magazines or Kindles when you’re standing, as taking one hand off an elliptical handle to turn a page can make you dizzy.

This is a good way to start a fitness regime, too, especially if you’ve previously been doing nothing at all.

So now if it’s a day I’m not teaching and that I have low energy, I try to force myself to do exercise of this ilk, nothing else. It gets me out of the house, it keeps me from the distractions of Netflix that keep me from reading at home sometimes, it will likely not contribute to the overuse injuries that fitness instructors are prone to, and it makes me think that maybe I won’t die young.

That’s it. Give it a try.