Armed with information in the form of certificates, diplomas and a degree, and with many, many years of experience and educating others and helping them to fit exercise into their lifestyles, I thought I had this exercise thing under control.
In fact, I did for those many, many years, because it was my job.
Then I had a child, and it all went a little off track. A second, then third child into the mix and my plans for regular physical activity went to all kinds of shit.
Knowing full well how much of a positive effect physical activity has on your mental health and (overall) wellbeing, however, I set about overcoming all those general, well used
excuses hurdles to not being able to do some form of exercise.
I don’t have time.
I can’t afford a gym membership.
I’m too busy.
Then there are the Bonus Hurdles when you have kids. You see, taking some time out for yourself and putting them into some form of care, or having some form of care come to them even in the form of a father, grandparent or kindly neighbour, is considered “selfish”. Also, why would you have kids if you’re just going to dump them on someone else so you can faff about in lycra? Hmmmm???
They’re sick, or they didn’t sleep, or they’re teething, or I can’t find a sitter …
All surmountable of course. But not easily surmountable in many cases.
When they’re babies it’s easier to exercise, as you can leave them sleeping in the pram, or even use them as weights. When they hit toddlerdom and beyond, well, that’s an entirely different story.
However, overcome all these hurdles I did, as have many other women.
What I didn’t know was that there was another hurdle – an enemy in the exercise department. Something far worse than Mother Guilt that I should be ashamed of.
I know –