|It's about the bliss. Always the bliss.|
Ever since this new report from Taiwan in the medical journal The Lancet hit the news, lots of move-that-beautiful-backside cheerleaders of the blogosphere have been waving their pom-poms. (Check out a very readable CNN summary here.)
What's all the fuss? It seems that that as little as 15 minutes of exercise a day or 90 minutes a week is far better than nothing. Better in the sense that it reduced mortality in general by 14 percent and extended life expectancy for 3 years. Even more interesting to me was the tidbit that exercising an additional 15 minutes a day, which is far more in line with the standard recommendation to exercise 30 minutes five times a week, only produced a slight improvement in mortality.
Obviously, the take-home message here is that a little exercise does matter, which is what I suspected when I came up with the concept of 10-Minute Momentum.
So why don't people just get off their duffs and do something? Anything? That's been another interesting topic for bloggers. While most people would justifiably say they don't have the time, Deborah Dunham from Blisstree has another theory. She says,"It’s not about errands or work schedules or family obligations; most of the time, it’s really all about self-confidence."
She goes on to suggest that when you feel like you're good at something, you're more likely to enjoy it and do it.
Oh, she is so achingly close to the truth. The real heart of the matter, in this chica's opinion, is that most folks can't fathom that exercise is . . . pleasure.
I completely understand. For years, I thought that working out was like taking castor oil. Punching in at a mind-numbing job. Sweltering and flailing. While exercise may be beneficial, necessary, or keep the doctor away, who wouldn't rather seek refuge in a pint of Ben & Jerry's?
I'm grateful to say that I've seen the light. Just yesterday, I went out on a 30-mile ride alone. I had the sun overhead, a breeze to help me, the road beneath me, and the pulse of my heart and quads, saying "Go. Go." I rode past fields, farms and forests. I followed rivers and lake shores. I was able to feel the power of my own body carrying me along.
It was bliss.
It's great to know that a few minutes of core work, a jog around the neighborhood or a short ride can give me measurable benefits. But that's not why I wake up early or hunt for new bike routes from my front door.
I exercise because I feel like a goddess. I'm going my own pace, my own way. I'm not watching the clock, comparing myself to anyone else, obsessing about my weight or wondering if I'm sub-standard.
I'm flying, and I am free.
Gimme more of that.
P.S. Many thanks to my Facebook and high school friend Donna who sent me the link to the study and nudged me to blog about it.
P.P.S. I think I'm finally mostly through my moving hangover, so I'll get back to work and write more posts!