I’m a Convert

Hi, Hey, Hello!

Here’s a sentence me of the beginning of last year never thought I would write.

I get the hype around exercise.

At the beginning of every year since I was about 18/19 I always make this vague as hell resolution to start getting a bit more in shape. I never followed through with them, In fact I think that following year I started treating myself the worse I ever have. But then I started noticing that my insomnia was coming back in a massive way half way through last year and my anxiety was the worse it had ever been and I was having far to many breakdowns in office toilets and I needed to do something about it.

And so I did. And here I am aching like it’s nobody’s business and feeling fucking great for it all this time later. I started to take exercise and fitness more seriously around October last year and noticed small benefits. Enough to tide me over at least. And then this year, when I made that vague promise to myself yet again, I upped the ante and did even more with it. I upped my workouts to be more than just 2/3 times a weeks for the most part and it helped. I felt strong and I left a workout feeling accomplished and good and all that other jazz that people bang on about when they make the strong suggestion that you should give exercise a chance to help deal with the other issues.

Don’t get me wrong, it is not a cure all and I had another flare up of my anxiety and insomnia in a big way and I kind of let the forms of exercise that made feel the best fall to the wayside because old habits die hard and it’s not that I slipped completely and felt worse or anything because I did keep up low intensity work outs and they did help with my not feeling like I was totally failing at it and that made things easier.

Like when I finally returned to doing the workouts that made me feel the strongest. Which was this week. And when I say I returned to it, I literally mean that I have 3 relatively high intensity cardio workouts since Saturday. I even found myself impulsively signing up to do a class an hour before it started last night and then borderline crying my way through it (it burned so much, my glutes were on fire, they still are). But I got back to feeling that good vibes feeling afterwards.

There is something incredibly satisfying about it. Feeling myself sweat it all out is actually cathartic as hell. Having to focus solely on what I am doing and trying to push myself further to get past burn and complete all the reps means that I am not focused on whatever else I have been focusing on all day. There’s even something a little bit satisfying when my muscles ache the day after (that doesn’t last long, it’s annoying for it to hurt whenever you sit down).

I do find myself feeling a bit more together and less in my own head and on most occasions it helps me sleep better. I find myself actually sleeping to my alarm and getting pissed off when it wakes me up, because it is actually the thing that wakes me up.  I find that it has actually helped me manage everything a little better and I don’t really know why I just sort of rubbished it for so long as being a thing that would help.

Or rather I do know, but that’s for another day.

For now though I can say that I am a convert to using exercise as a way to keep myself sane.

Who would’ve thunk it?

Parentheses count: 2. See you tomorrow!

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Sophie, twenty-something, avid reader, writer, really good at watching whole seasons of TV shows in one weekend and using 10 words where 5 will do, overzealous user of the ellipsis and parentheses, starts too many sentences with ‘and’ and ‘so’, living in a continual state of Wanderlust.

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