I’m more than aware of the importance of looking after yourself, and with an increasing clarity that this means not only physically, but mentally as well. And as someone at the wrong end of their 20s, the impending inevitability of my metabolism packing up and calling it quits is a constant and ever-present threat.
Anyone that knows me knows that I have the compromising mix of an insatiable sweet tooth and zero willpower. Two characteristics which don’t bode well when the aforementioned metabolism breakdown kicks in, and I’m left trundling into my 30s complaining that my jeans never used to be quite this slim fitting.
I have never enjoyed exercise, and frankly, I’ve never believed anyone who claims to either. It’s boring, it’s generally dominated by the kind of personality I like the least, and it’s also bloody hard work. That is not to say that I haven’t at least tried forming some kind of exercise regime, many times over, before finding myself back at square one.
As a teenager, I thought that maybe the gym would bring a little interest into keeping me fit and healthy. They’ve got all the fancy machines, it’s where all my mates were going, and the one by me even had a ping pong table. They also stink of sweat, are a financial drain, and always have that one massive neck-less man who unleashes some kind of primal roar as he drops the biggest weight in the building. No thanks.
Years later I realised that maybe having the physical build of a gazelle was a sign that I should at least try running. I did what everyone does and bought some semi-decent running shoes, a pair of headphones and set myself a goal. That last bit was where I went wrong. Turns out running 5km a day for 4 weeks straight with no prior experience to that level of movement can, and will, turn your ankles into a fine paste. Back to square one.
However, a few years later and here I am – 6 months into a reasonable running routine formed off my own back, at my own pace. It’s taken me the best part of 10 years to become what I hate – someone who enjoys exercising – and all it took was a complete re-evaluation of why I wanted to run in the first place.
It’s easy to get caught up in the competition of it all: beating your mate’s PB the same day they set it, overtaking a fellow runner on the home stretch, or getting the annoyingly elusive ‘Local Legend’ award on Strava. But the bit that really matters for me is getting out, putting one foot in front of the other and thinking about absolutely nothing in the process.
I was always under the impression that running was something you did for your physical health, but the key for me finally sticking with it was the realisation that it’s something I should do for my mental health. Being in a creative role requires a busy mind so having the luxury of turning off and tuning out can be invaluable. Half an hour, a couple of times a week, to just check out and run. I’ve found it’s a way of taking back control, occupying that prime doom-scrolling real estate between finishing work and thinking about dinner. I don’t need to read about Rishi’s latest nonsense, the latest football rumour mill or what that lad from college is doing on his holiday in Crete. What I need is to think about nothing – reset, recalibrate and feel good about the process of doing so. So maybe give it a whirl. Get away from the screens, leave the headphones at home and give your brain some quiet time. It’ll work wonders.
Andy Norman, Senior Designer, Notepad.
