Exercise guilt and letting go
There’s a man skipping down on the jetty, the rope loops around his feet in a mesmerising fashion. You have to wonder what drives a person to come out at 8 o’clock on a Friday morning in these baltic conditions. He looks so full of energy. As I watch from across the frozen canal, I’ve been battling a nagging feeling I’ve not been doing enough. A pang of disappointment passes over me for every day I’ve put off exercising this week.
Where the first lockdown had brought sunny days and what felt like endless opportunities for self-improvement. The second lockdown has felt like slowly slipping into seasonal madness. My body tells me I deserve a break, my mind calls me lazy, undisciplined… ‘motivation is fleeting, you need to have discipline’ is what I would say to every friend of mine who had shown an interest in starting an exercise regime. But what does it feel like when you can no longer practice what you preach? Guilt.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about why my brain is wired in such a way.
For context, I’d spent my teenage years and adolescence being undoubtedly the smallest and skinniest person in the room. I’d hit 19 and while I had a small growth spurt, I hadn’t exactly filled out. Going back and looking through MyFitnessPal’s graph I had weighed in at 8 stone, 2 pounds at 5′9″. I recall instances during my first year of university where the girls in our house would compare the size of their arms with mine. Perhaps it was the time when my mate at the pub told me I looked particularly skeletal that day. Comments that would never be made to someone of the opposite disposition for fear of causing offense. Comments that can linger on the mind.
The subconscious, externals factors aside, this mindset would certainly become ingrained once I first stepped inside a gym. I would track my diet meticulously trying to hit as close to 3000 calories a day. When you focus so much on your heating habits, the way you look a food begins to change. Even once you’ve stopped counting calories. Everything you eat, you’re estimating what’s in there. Protein, carbs, fats. I went to the gym 3/4 times a week and although progress was slow I managed to stick with it. There wasn’t a goal in mind, just the unwavering idea that I needed to get bigger. I reached 11 stone, a weight where I felt far more comfortable in my own skin. I had gained size, strength, and most importantly confidence. But if I stopped for a week or two would that be the start of a decline? Would the end result be losing everything I had achieved so far? I didn’t want to get massive, I just wanted to stay looking normal.
There’s still a lack of acknowledgment surrounding the issues men face when it comes to their bodies. You only have to scroll through a few popular fitness Instagram accounts to see the discrepancies. Evident is the widespread promotion of totally unattainable male body types, reserved for the top tier of genetics or blatant steroid users. Not to mention the brand or the athlete's unwillingness to admit to promoting the use of illicit substances. There are also large groups of men who still subscribe to this super-masculine look, where anyone who can’t attain this is just making excuses. The body-image issues I’d had growing up certainly contributed to a particular mindset I developed around exercise. Many young men who’re into fitness now will no doubt be facing similar issues.
This all sounds like I was bound by duty to step into the gym. In a way I was. But that’s not to say I don’t get great enjoyment from lifting weights, running, sports, all of those things. They’ve always a constant in my life. But I’m quite envious of the people who seemingly go about their day being able to take it or leave it. During the past few years, It’s safe to say I’ve felt considerable pressure in trying to maintain an active lifestyle.
In a time where the sound of Siri responding to you feels like an increase in social capital, it’s important to cut yourself a bit of slack. Deep down I know I deserve a break, everyone does at the moment. I’ve taken some solace in the fact that there will be millions of people feeling the same way. For every person skipping away at 8am, there will be many more watching on wondering if they should be doing the same.
