23 February 2017

The answer is Margie

Whenever you read articles about exercise they always bang on about habits and motivations and self belief and self discipline and all kinds of things which I recognise as words but not necessarily in a language which I speak.

I mean I can exercise for money. Give me a good cause and I can canoe 100 kilometres along the Murray, or run an ultra-half marathon, abseil down the middle of a mall and prussik back up again. Basically if could channel that kind of shameless money hustling into some kind of personal ambition I'd be the next Richard Branson.

And if it involves skates of some description - I'm always bound to enjoy it because skating is never exercise. It's just fun.

But having to exercise because it's good for my brain or good for my body or in any way good for, or just about, me is just not a motivator. I'm pretty much the only person I know who didn't change shape for their wedding. (The upshot of this is I get to be one of those people who 20 years after they get hitched say things like "I still fit in my wedding dress" and make trilling noises so you can compliment them as if their entire value as a human being is linked to their waist size.  But mine will be because I was splendidly rubenesque.)
Check that cleavage. Magnificent! 
I just don't care enough. Not in a "I think I'm shit" kind of way, more in a "I am funny, I don't need to be fit" kind of way.  Be honest - think of all the famous athletes you know - they aren't funny. They're focussed, committed, resolute, disciplined, and other non-funny words. And it's not that I don't have the same body hang-ups as most. Trust me I do. They are just not a motivator!

And if you are looking for some silver lining in the saga of me learning to live with depression - I never stopped being the most hilarious person you know*. Black humour, sarcasm and dry wit are the diamonds in the depression - trust me and every comedian alive on this one.

But nevertheless, despite this brilliant scientific fact (and by scientific fact - Robin Williams lived with depression too so that's all the information we need) - all the professionals have kept banging on about me doing more things to get the endorphins flowing. This means they want you to exercise deliberately, not accidentally.

And every month I faithfully reported that I'd done absolutely nothing about it.  Consistency is important I'm given to understand.

But then, I thought "F**k it". Let's do everything I'm supposed to do and see if it makes any difference at all.  And guess what dear readers?


Keep in mind my medication has fully kicked in now and I feel so okay** I don't know why I'm on medication because there is clearly nothing wrong with me. And that PROVES I don't need to exercise.

But somehow I am. I'm going to bed in time to arise before dawn some days, eating more than once a day, incidentally exercising, and miracle of all miracles. I'm exercising DELIBERATELY a few times a week. It's been walking mostly, and this week I started cross training one morning a week.  For the record, I can still plank for 45 seconds x 3. This adds nothing to my blog - I'm just boasting.  I'm going to do yoga too and start wearing my active wear for school drop off like people that exercise for fun. Never let it be said I'm not committed.
See! Fruit! Healthy, healthy fruit! 
Am I managing all of this just for me? Nope.

Is it because it's all local and all free? Nope. It's been there for over 12 months and I didn't go once.

It it because I want to be a good example to my kids? Um. HAVE YOU MET ME? Nope.

The only reason that I have got of my amply padded derriere to do as I am supposed to do is because I met this awesome female IN A PUB and we agreed to go for a walk.  All the resulting escalation in activity is because SHE DOES IT WITH ME.

My reason for 'actively self caring' is a woman called Margie. She's funny too. So we're basically a comedic duo quite literally hitting the road with our material.

So my mental health message for you all is go to the pub.  Find a Margie.

At the very least you'll have somebody to walk home from the pub with next time. But in the meantime, you're totally getting a gold star and a jelly bean next time you see a medical professional.

Thanks Margie.

*  citation needed
**subject to change without notice

If you want to see more of what goes on when I'm not writing this blog
follow me on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram

And sign up HERE to become a Franklophile and get the newsletter.

No comments:

Post a Comment