Columns

A few weeks back, we gathered a group of Life Time Fitness leaders for a corporate retreat and brainstorming session.

Over the three years that I’ve been editing this magazine, I’ve been developing my own little mental image of how this whole health and fitness thing works.

This time of year, a lot of us start thinking about the big changes we want to make in our lives over the course of the next 12 months.

Not a month goes by that I don’t hear from at least one friend or relative who says: “I had the weirdest dream last night; listen to this …” People call me to tell me their dreams because I am, seriously, the queen of amateur dream analysis.

If you build it, he will come. That line, made legendary by the 1989 film Field of Dreams, still resonates with a lot of people. I think that’s because it says everything about what we instinctively know to be true about pursuing our own dreams.

Ever get to the point when you’ve read so much depressing news that your brain and heart reach some kind of maximum density and you just feel defeated by it all? I must admit that despite my usually relentless optimism, I was there last month.

When we think of champions, we think of people who have accomplished things beyond the bounds of accepted belief or expectation. While such feats might require tremendous strength or ingenuity, in many cases there’s another underlying requirement: courage.

Not long ago, I came across a quote from an unknown source that read: “Sound really does travel slower than light. The advice parents give to their 18-year-olds doesn’t reach them until they’re about 40.”

For far too long now, the pursuit of fitness has been equated with individual achievement. In the media and general culture, fitness has typically been about performance (who can go farthest, fastest), or it’s been about possession – washboard abs and seductive good looks. The body as object.

“Get yourself an exercise buddy.” That’s some of the best exercise advice I’ve ever heard. But I swear, no health and fitness idea (except perhaps “eat more vegetables”) has been so completely overexposed, yet so totally underutilized.

I just realized that this year marks my 30-year fitness anniversary. I was 13 when I started working out and I’ve been doing it ever since, studying and experimenting with all sorts of different sports and fitness techniques along the way.

Once, a long time ago, someone gave me a sensible piece of outdoors advice: If you’re out on a hike and aren’t sure whether your trail loops back on itself, turn around whenever your water is half gone.

“Lighten up” is one of those funky little phrase that can mean many different things.

Left to my own devices, I’m a person who takes things on. Challenges, projects, ideas, stuff – I love experiencing and discovering all kinds of things.

I’ve been running for a few years now. I like it, mostly. Except when I hate it.

Spring is the season of new projects and brave commitments. It’s a time when many people decide they are ready to take on big changes. Just having a couple more hours of daylight can be enough to flood our bodies with the desire to tackle new challenges and convince us to set a new plan in motion.

Zowie! Ever since the last issue lit a fire under me (Jan./Feb., Action Plan 2004), I’ve been on kind of an action rampage.

When I travel outside the country, I am regularly reminded of how many people are struggling with immense problems and living in great need, without basic necessities like food, shelter and freedom. I am also reminded, at these times, by how blessed many of us are to be facing lesser struggles.

“Is this supposed to press down on my nose so much,” I asked Ryan, the trainer administering my metabolic and VO2 max test. “Yeah, it needs to be snug enough so air doesn’t get in through the sides,” he explained, adjusting the straps and checking the seal of the mask.

It’s resolutions season again – a time of review and reflection, and for many, a time of frustration. We may find ourselves facing some of the same issues we faced last year and the year before. And not all of them have improved with age.

This marks the end of my second full year editing Experience Life. Two years of reading and writing about wellness, fitness and quality of life.