me started running to impress my neurologist. I downloaded the little app, where Jo Whiley cheered me on over the weeks, threw on a T-shirt and sneakers, and headed out the door. And adorably, I continued to do it every other day, even after telling my neurologist, twice, even after I had completed the application; instead, I listened to podcasts on, say, “What did this police department do wrong” and “Hey, did you know some people can smell dementia?” and, as I sweated my way past assignments and even the lake, “Let me tell you about this lady from the old days: what a nerve she had!”
I’ve never been the PE type. I hate yoga, I find it very horrible. I lack the competitiveness necessary to play a team sport and the idea of going to the “gym”, a place so aesthetically dying, so burdened with the weight of vanity and other people’s regrets, disgusts me. However, earlier this year, when my neurologist suggested I make some “lifestyle changes” before starting the big migraine meds, I decided to try running, the least bad option on a very tainted menu. .
But – it wasn’t as simple as that. Last week it was reported that almost half of British women have done “no vigorous exercise” in the past year. The headline annoyed me. I kept reaching for it again, like a sock that wouldn’t stay up. It was the same uncomfortable feeling I remembered when, in those twilight months of early parenthood, I read in the newspapers about a study on breastfeeding that suggested that the longer a baby nurses, the more successful and intelligent he becomes. The headlines fell and shattered into the tiles the way they often do, into a selection of judgment-sharp shards. Important as the study was, the way it was reported left many of my maternal peers, each desperately trying to keep their newborn babies alive through the spring, feeling ashamed and guilty. It’s not that they haven’t tried to breastfeed their child, it’s that their milk hasn’t come in, or that they have to go back to work at six weeks, or that the outside world is inhospitable to a woman, on a bench, with her left nipple leaking .
This exercise studio similarly landed, inspiring family guilt. Everyone knows the reasons women work out: health, fitness, losing a stone before Alison’s wedding. But the reasons why women No exercise is rarely discussed. Doing so requires a sullen breakdown of the factors, the narrative of which grows quieter and sadder as the list progresses. Why don’t half of women exercise? Because time is needed, time alone, time that, if they have children, many must pay for. The NCT reports that the average cost of part-time childcare today is more than £7,000 a year, or more in areas like London. Two-thirds of parents spend more on their child care bills than they do on their mortgage or rent. Outside of office hours, women do an overall average of 60% more “unpaid work” than men, such as caring for children or elderly parents, and cleaning the house and preparing a meal for five people that takes less 30 minutes and costs less than £6. His time is not yours: the clock has melted.
And of those who are able to squeeze the NHS-recommended 150 minutes a week out of their schedules, some continue to struggle with poor body image, meaning they feel anxious and vulnerable presenting their Lycra body to the world. A recent survey by Women in Sport found that a significant number of girls withdraw from sport in their late teens due to “concerns about self-confidence, ability and body image”. Others feel “unsafe exercising outdoors” – world of runners found that 60% of women said they had been harassed while running; 11% told them that because of the harassment they had stopped running altogether. And that’s before we even start talking about the gyms: their cost, the intimidation found there, the way they smell like someone sprayed blackberry spray on the body over some terrible crime. After a minute, it seems the original headline was backwards: isn’t it more remarkable that half of British women to have exercised in the last year?
After seven months of regular running, I still don’t love it. People tell me about the rush, the calm, the way it makes them feel elated, uplifted. For me, it’s still largely hard work, with moments of great toothy pride. But aside from the impact it has had on my migraines, the main benefit of regular exercise has been the freedom I feel. Every time I adjust my slippers and leave the house, I marvel at the fact that I have created this time alone, that this piece of the world – path, stream, park and forest – is mine and, for now, to my. The dream is running fast enough to run away from all of that: your job, your responsibilities, your anxieties, your body, the news and its headlines, yourself. For half an hour at least, or until the next studio drops. Whichever comes first.
Email Eva at [email protected] or follow her on Twitter @EvaWiseman
