Exercise time

My son figured out that my hyperactivity before last summer’s wedding crashed into depression in the fall. He pragmatically detailed the pattern to me, told me he would marry in August and promised to visit in the fall – to cheer me up.
He needs to cheer me up?
I looked up the symptoms of depression on the Internet: Loss of energy, check. Loss of interest, check. Loss of sleep, double check. Loss of weight … wait a minute.
I’ve been robbed.
Depressed people lose weight!?
Not me. When the blues wake me at 2 a.m. I host a tea party for one with hot cocoa, and peanut butter on toast. As I munch and sip, I read a book until I fall asleep with crumbs on my pillow and a marshmallow foam mustache.
After two weddings in as many summers and another anticipated this year, my “Mother of the …” gowns fit a bit more tightly than they did the day I bought them.
My research did yield a few helpful tips for dealing with mild to moderate depression. (I mean – besides visiting a physician to rule out physical reasons for the depression.)
I focused in on one fact: Innumerable studies have shown that mild depression is relieved with moderate exercise.
I did not welcome that news. For years I have informed anyone who asked me to join them for a game of tennis or a brisk walk around the block, “I don’t do that, I am allergic to exercise – it makes me break out in a sweat.”
Even my sedentary desk job aligned with my allergy to exercise – until the day I realized I huffed and puffed after ascending a whole six steps to the office area. About that same time, I received a free, two-weeks visitor pass to the local gym. I don’t do sweat, but I do do free.
I signed up.
The first day, after 15 minutes of very slow walking on the tread mill and a minute of stair climbing, I felt faint from exhaustion and raced a snail for the front door.
I went back the next day and endured a couple minutes longer, by pacing myself v-e-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y.
“Slow and easy” continues to be my motto … even when people watching tell me I am not pushing myself hard enough. Let them exercise their way, if I need to sit down and catch my breath after a couple minutes on the tread mill, I will.
They don’t know I am not only pushing myself, I am also desensitizing myself to my allergy to exercise. In time perhaps I will realize, “Every time I exercise, I break out in energy.”
Meanwhile, I have averaged more weekday mornings at the gym before work than not. My average would have been a bit higher, if I had remembered to bring my gym clothes a couple weeks ago. The earlier arrival at work that day was off set by the morning I exercised for half hour before I discovered I had not brought my work clothes and had to go all the way home to change. Occasionally I even get a bonus – I discover I am enjoying myself and the tingle of energy flowing through my body.
Plus! I no longer attend the middle of the night tea parties for one with hot cocoa and peanut butter toast. I don’t miss them one bit.
(Joan Hershberger is a reporter at the News-Times. She can be reached at joanh@everybody.org)