About five years ago, I moved from Denver (where I made a living teaching 21 fitness classes every week, and made a life by doing my own workouts on top of that for fun) to Chile, South America (where it was cold and rainy and, due to some strange circumstances, we were super stressed out).
When we got on the plane, I imagined I’d be back in the gym by late the next week. As it happened, I took nearly three months away from the kind of exercise I was used to.
It’s a long story and the excuses are lame. I was stressed in a way I had never been before. It was really cold, so outdoor workouts were not of interest. It was really cold inside, as well, since we were living in an un-insulated summer home. (Again, long story.) We kept thinking circumstances would change any minute and I’d be back to the gym any day now. I did a couple of yoga practices each week wearing gloves in front of a space heater, but everything else fell apart. I was out of shape.
My body probably needed a break, truth be told, and I learned a lot from being out of shape.
I realized how well I knew my fit body–and what a stranger my unfit body was.
Now, this is my own definition of unfit, which might not match yours, but after a month with barely a few yoga practices, I hardly understood myself. My thirst and hunger were different. My cravings were different. What I considered acceptable to eat was different.
Most different was how I responded to illness: I got bit by some bug under my arm, and it caused all sorts of reactions. It felt so alien. Maybe this is weird, but I kept thinking, if I were in better shape, I would know what to do.
My energy level tanked.
Being generally fit makes daily life easier. I’m talking stairs, carrying heavy things, walking long distances. After several weeks, I didn’t tackle even the little things with the same go-get-it. Being lazy made me, well, more lazy.
The body remembers.
When we at last got settled in Argentina and I at last found a gym to call home, my body got back to work for me. Yes, a three-mile run was more uncomfortable than it had been for quite some time, but my body did it, among all the other things I asked it to do. It came back. It went fit again.
I’m no longer scared of a fitness break.
Sometimes the circumstances are such that you’re just not working out. Maybe it’s a good reason, like you broke your leg. Or maybe it’s a bad reason, like mine kind of was.
Either way, don’t get down. You can always start again.