Fitness as a Means to Living Well

Shortly before turning 60, I decided to change my lifestyle so I could lose 62 pounds and recover the size and energy of my youth. Nearly a decade later, I’ve attained most of the goals I initially set for myself. Yet ironically enough, unless I am careful, focusing on goals can easily undermine my ability to stay fit.

For years, I dieted and exercised just enough to lose pounds and inches. The regimens were severe and usually involved self-discipline and deprivation. On those rare occasions when I followed through long enough to reach my goal, I quickly resumed my former lifestyle and gave back what was so preciously earned. I veered from enthusiasm to guilt, becoming a veritable yo-yo as my temperament swung from improving to disintegrating fitness.

During the years when I kept trying and failing to become fit, I had the means to achieve my goals, whether those goals involved losing pounds and inches or lowering my heart rate and body mass index. I had plenty of professional support, whether that support involved my doctor, a physical therapist or access to a gym. Only in retrospect can I see what was missing: I had forgotten how to live. This forgetfulness made me lose touch with my body. The condition of my body—out of shape and imbalanced—was a metaphor for my life.

Ultimately, I came to realize that fitness is not a goal but simply a means to feeling joyfully alive and thoroughly enjoying the experience of living. Weight management is not a goal but a means to good health. These means boil down to four daily actions:

1. Eat 1,200 to 1,500 calories a day.
2. Exercise one hour a day unless I am sick.
3. Get adequate rest.
4. Stay connected with the world through family, friends and volunteer work.

Recovering the joy of being alive is what my fitness journey involves. I search for food that I enjoy eating that won’t pack on pounds. I experiment with different forms of exercise and continue the ones that are fun and playful. This way, the goal of exercise is not to drop pounds or shrink a size but rather to enjoy the physical pleasure of endorphins pumping through my body and the sense of accomplishment in keeping my commitment to myself.

For my family, instead of pizza with sausage and extra cheese and an evening of mind-numbing television, fitness means slow food and lively conversation during dinner. It means joining my husband in a tennis clinic we have attended twice a week for 15 years where we never get better and seldom win but always have a good time with friends as we continue to learn.

In the larger circle around me, fitness means cultivating relationships so that strangers become friends. When I go for a walk, I say hello to everyone I meet. Before I know it, I’ve met another neighbor who becomes a new friend. While I’m out walking, I pick up trash—a simple act that makes me feel good about contributing to the care of my neighborhood. And when family and friends need help, I can delight in giving it, knowing that whatever I give will come back to me many times over.

If you’re having trouble starting your fitness program, maybe you are making impossible demands on yourself. Asking yourself how you can be more disciplined and what you can deprive yourself of to reach your goals are the wrong questions. Ask yourself instead how you can inject more play and joy into your life.

For most of us, sustainable fitness is not achieved through negative emotions and actions, guilt or denial. A sense of joy and well-being that comes from being alive in my body inspires me to keep going. What about you?