Most days, I move my body in some way — whether that’s by going for a run, a sweaty yoga session, a casual stroll with my husband, or a study-walk. But some days, I don’t, and that’s the healthiest things for me.
This past weekend, I didn’t do any formal exercise. Most of my day was spent on the couch, Friday through Sunday, watching abbreviated episodes of Breaking Bad with my husband. (We’ve both already finished the series, and we both prefer not to re-experience all the family drama. We fast-forward through those scenes and focus on the more exciting parts.) That, and studying. Groan.
Saturday night we went to a friend’s wedding and celebrated with lots of dancing (and drinks.) I guess that counts as exercise. But what’s different about that kind of movement from what “exercise” used to mean for me is that it was un-calculated, unplanned, and and characterized be complete and total freedom. That’s how movement should be.
Sunday, we slept in, went to the late service at church, strolled up and down some grocery store aisles, and walked a few blocks to a local restaurant. We ordered 20 wings, extra hot, ate what we wanted and left the rest. That’s how eating should be.
Monday? I just did the same thing. I didn’t “get back on track” or “return to the grind” because there is no track and no grind. Every day of my life is free.
Some days have more trouble than others, and sometimes my body doesn’t always feel as great. But on beautiful summer weekends when I’m enjoying the weather, food, movement, my love, and life…well that’s something to be grateful for.