Sometimes you have to lose something before you can really love and appreciate it.
I grew up, like many Americans, believing "exercise" was a four letter word, only slightly less profane than the worst four-letter word; you know, the one even worse than the "f-bomb". (Shh. I'll whisper it if you promise not to tell. "diet".)
Oh sure, I knew nuts who loved to jog, but, by and large, most people conveyed the attitude that moving their bodies was something to be endured, akin to having a cavity filled. Something torturous that you did to lose weight or to try to stay healthy. A necessary evil.
Thank God my disability opened me to a different reality! After years and years of declining physical capacity and of losses of one activity after another in which I could participate, I have grown to appreciate and to ENJOY moving my body in ways that are still available to me.
Six night a week, I hop onto my Nustep with a rush of exhileration. I love being able to do this. Love burning calories. Love the feeling of moving my body effectively and gracefully.
When I started, I was only able to ride for about 30 minutes. Now, I rarely stop before two hours, and have even ridden for a four hour stretch! Did I mention that I love this! I love the power. Love the burn. Love the feeling of being athletic. Love knowing I'm on an upward spiral of health. Love being a fitness enthusiast even though I'm still very overweight and have a long way to go. (I estimate that I've lost 20 pounds by the way my clothes fit and my appearance in the mirror.)
If my disability had not progressed to such a degree of incapacity, I might have never found this new joy (and quite probably would not have the increasing cardiovascular health that I'm also enjoying.)
Disability and Exercise. Two words I used to hate. Two words I'm growing to love.
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