I take a low level antidepressant for depression. It works pretty well to level out my emotions, but doesn't even come close to the mood elevating effects of my better "antidepressant": My Nustep.
A Nustep is a seated recumbent cross-trainer and is a staple in gyms and physical therapy clinics across the country. It sits in the corner of my living room across from the entertainment center. (Note: I have an intense love for interior decorating and the Nustep does NOT go with my casual cottage decor. Even so, it's so valuable, I allow it to take up that valuable visual real estate.)
With rare exceptions, I relish the time I spend exercising with it. The hour a day I spend riding is one of the best parts of each day and something I anticipate (usually) with excitement.
What a sharp departure from the old Lynna who approached exercise as a chore... something to get through... 98, 99, 100! Shew! Finally done! Exercise was something I endured as a necessary evil to get to The Goal. (The Goal was ALWAYS some distant and smaller number on the scales.)
Today, I'm enjoying The Journey instead of trying to obtain The Goal. On The Journey, I take time to marvel at the muscles in my body and delight in seeing them grow stronger. I enjoy shopping for cute clothes to honor my body. I enjoy living in the moment instead of believing that I will only be able to fully live in a size 8 body.
On The Journey, my Nustep is an important companion. It has returned to me the sense that my body is remarkable. Having a progressive neuromuscular disease and having gone from relatively able-bodied to wheelchair-user in a decades span, I formerly had the sense that my body was defective. My attitude, tho, was my main crippling disability. "What the heck. Why bother. Why bother exercising... I'll never be able to walk normally again, anyhow. I'll never be like normal people. I'll never be normal anyhow. I might as well eat whatever I want. At least I'll feel better."
Today, for an hour each day, I experience my body as perfection. Instead of counting down the minutes, I spend much of the time talking to my body. "You are amazing. You are powerful. Look at you! Muscles, you are something else! I had no idea you were in there! Why! You are strong! Thank you Body!"
That exhilerating feeling of power and gratitude is spilling over into the rest of my life. I am feeling less and less and less "disabled" and more and more and more empowered. I am taking bigger risks. I am willing to try daring adventures. I am smiling and laughing more.
Yes, I think the big, bulky Nustep, even though it upsets the balance of my cottage decor, has a permanent place in my living room and in my heart.
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