Let me confess: I am a nutritionist and health coach who spent most of her life terrified of exercise. Not just “I’d rather not” or “I’m too busy,” but full-on, heart-pounding, stomach-churning, please-don’t-make-me-do-it terror. If you’ve ever felt this way, trust me: you are not alone, you are not broken, and there is hope.
The Early Days: Last Picked, First to Panic
My introverted, bookish self dreaded PE class and any form of physical activity that involved the faintest whiff of competition. While other kids jostled to be captains, I prayed to be invisible. In elementary school, I became a world-class expert at being the last one picked for any team. Rope climbing? My arms gave up before I even left the ground. Catching or throwing balls? Panic. Running? If you count “developing a side stitch in under three minutes” as a sport, I was a champion.
PE teachers, in their infinite wisdom, seemed to think public shaming was the key to unlocking my athletic potential. “Come on, you can do better than that!” they’d bark, as I dangled helplessly from the lowest knot on the rope. Once, at a high school fundraising swim-a-thon, my own teammates jeered at me for slowing down our side. (Wait – wasn’t this supposed to be a charity event?)
I actually loved moving my body, just not in the ways that counted for PE grades. Give me a bike and a quiet street, and I’d ride for hours, wind in my hair, no stopwatch in sight. Family walks, pony trekking, expressive dance – these were my happy places. But group sports? Organized competition? No, thanks.
College Try: Running Away (Literally)
In college, determined to “fix” my fitness, I joined a running group. I couldn’t keep up. While others bounded ahead, I lagged behind; my inner critic running laps around my self-worth. It never occurred to me that everyone has a different pace, shaped by age (I was a year younger than everyone else), fitness, technique, and, in my case, a pathological fear of being seen panting in public. I slunk away in shame, convinced I was irredeemably unfit.
Adulthood brought new attempts at getting fit. I tried the gym—oh, how I tried. One trainer kept trying to get me to lose weight, despite my clearly stated goal of getting stronger, not thinner. Another had me do exercises that set my arthritic thumb joints on fire. A third loaded up the leg press so much I was limping for weeks. I even hired a physical therapist to help me build muscle from the comfort of my home, but the routines were so mind-numbingly boring I’d rather alphabetize my spice rack.
The gym atmosphere didn’t help: blinding lights, fetid air, mirrors everywhere, machines that looked like medieval torture devices. (Did you know treadmill-like devices were used in Victorian times to punish prisoners and prevent idleness? As I learned reading Harvard Professor Dan Lieberman’s wonderful book, Exercised, for more than a century, English convicts, including the author and playwright Oscar Wilde, were condemned to trudge for hours a day on enormous steplike treadmills!)
Well-meaning “gym bros” offered unsolicited advice. One told me I should lift until I felt like puking. Another tried to talk me into blood-flow restriction training. A third sang the praises of muscle-bulking supplements. I began to develop a Pavlovian response: the mere mention of squats or pushups made me want to hide under my bed.
The Turning Point: Doing It My Way
I have always known how important physical activity is for overall well-being, but every attempt to move the “right” way left me feeling more defeated. So I finally decided to exercise my way, even if it meant breaking every Internet influencer’s rule.
I started with a daily walk, as recommended by a therapist whom I was seeing about my chronic feelings of anxiety and overwhelm. At first, the walks felt like a chore (“who’s got time for this?!”), but soon I noticed how much calmer and happier I felt.
Maybe it was the fresh air, maybe it was escaping my stressful home environment, or maybe it was just the birds, blooms, bugs, and trees. Whatever it was, I wanted more. My walks went from 10-15 minutes to an hour or longer. To this day, I walk for at least 45 minutes most mornings. When I don’t, the whole day feels “off.”
Soon, I began hiking with a new friend who knew the local trails like the back of her hand. Initially, I would feign a need to tie my shoelace on a particularly tough uphill stretch; now I just say: “Hey, Vicky – I need a breather,” and we stop for a minute or two and chat or savor the natural beauty that surrounds us. I have learned that movement can be joyful, social, and pressure-free, rather than a punishment for existing in a human body.
Movement Without Fear: Nia, Essentrics, and Strength
Once walking felt good, I cautiously returned to the gym, but this time for Nia classes at my local rec center led by the radiant, compassionate, joyful Tracy Goldenberg of Being & Moving. Flowing, free dance felt mortifying at first (“I must look ridiculous!”), but soon I began to reconnect with my joints and muscles, my breath, and the sounds I was making. It was deeply liberating.
Then Covid hit, and gyms closed. A friend recommended Essentrics, a gentle, full-body, home-based workout that combines stretching and strengthening through flowing, dynamic movements for flexibility, mobility, and body balance for people of all ages and fitness levels. I continue to practice Essentrics regularly and have invited Essentrics teacher Keiko Walsh to a Community Conversation on my Savor community on June 12. (Go to the Savor Community Calendar for details and to register; you’ll need to join Savor first; it’s free.)
Three years ago, at 56, I asked my fantastic PT, world-renowned runner and 1993 marathon world champion Mark Plaatjes, whether I was too old to start running. He looked perplexed and said: “Of course not! You can run at any age!” He suggested a super-simple routine to get me started, and within a few weeks, I was running several times a week! I run slowly, but it’s a pace I can enjoy and sustain for 30 minutes or longer.
Most recently, I faced my final frontier: strength training. Thanks to the amazing Anna Maltby, creator of How to Move, a Substack video newsletter “for people who want to engage in fitness, without engaging in diet culture,” I have started doing living-room strength workouts that are simple and flexible, and feel safe and empowering. No more “no pain, no gain” or scary gym-bro hacks — just steady, sustainable progress at a pace set by me. Anna joined us on Savor for a Community Conversation a few months ago; you can watch the recording here.
After years of exercising alone, I have even come to enjoy moving with others, overcoming my fear of group sports. I joined my first Parkrun a few months ago (you don’t have to run; it’s fien to walk these) and recently began offering monthly group walks on Savor (which you can join by clicking here; it’s free, so why not give it a try?). After walking and talking with fellow-Savorers for an hour or two, sometimes rounded off by a refreshment at a nearby coffee shop, I feel a warm glow of connection and joy after each Savoring Walk.
Lessons Learned: You Do You
If you, too, have struggled or still struggle with exercise, don’t give up. Here’s what I’ve learned:
- Find what works for YOU. We all have different bodies, abilities*, medical histories, energy levels, time, and financial means. Some love gyms; others prefer nature or home. Some enjoy company; others, solitude. Some need music; others, silence.
- All movement matters. Dancing in your living room, gardening, biking to the shops, playing with your kids, walking the dog, or even taking the stairs all contribute to your well-being. Embrace the forms of movement that bring you joy and fit naturally into your life. Every bit counts!
- Start small. Lifting a baby weight is better than lifting none. A countertop or wall pushup is 100% more than no pushup. Walking for 10 minutes beats sitting.
- Pace yourself. Do what you enjoy and what makes you feel good. As you get fitter and stronger, you’ll probably want to take it up a notch. Do so at your own pace.
- Consume Internet fitness advice with caution. Much of it is driven by influencers selling weight-loss plans, supplements, or advertising. They don’t know your body, ability, history or needs; you do.
So here’s to moving at your own pace, in your own way, with self-compassion and maybe a dash of humor. If you see me out walking, dancing, or lifting the world’s tiniest dumbbells, give me a wave. I’ll be the one with the goofy grin, finally free from exercise phobia and loving every imperfect minute.
*If you haven’t exercised in a long time or have any physical impairments, it’s important to consult your doctor or a physical therapist before starting a new exercise program.