I’m naturally averse to languorous periods of idleness or lassitude; prolonged times of stagnation make me restless. I frequently engage in brisk walking, and my pace is typically fast. In instances where catching the bus necessitates sprinting, I can manage without feeling the urge to regurgitate subsequently. Illness rarely befalls me, and I maintain a healthy weight. However, the notion of purposeful physical endeavour has always left me baffled.
I get the concept of sport; it involves competition and brings enjoyment, and human beings impute considerable significance to it. Evidently, sport equates to exercise, but the exercise aspect is a consequential side effect rather than the prime incentive to participate.
I’m mainly addressing exercise for its intrinsic value. This includes activities like sprinting without any impending competition or visiting the gym devoid of any intent to compete in a muscle-building contest. I’ve taken a stab at it, which included a few misfortunate encounters in a gym. I naively allowed myself to be pestered into engaging in a few personally guided training sessions. There was a stint when I jogged regularly until an injury to my leg ligaments deterred me. The experience did not induce a return, and there was no evident difference in my well-being thereafter. I failed to perceive any indication of deriving any benefit from it.
Besides, I detested it.
I have a profound aversion towards running. I gave it a shot, but it seemed pointless. Surely, I can’t be the only one harbouring this sentiment?
There are various hypotheses explaining my feelings, one of which stems from the ‘old caveman instinct’ notion. Given we’re genetically wired to be foragers and hunters – which admittedly is an energy-draining manner of subsistence – our cognitive processes suggest taking reprieves when not engaged in those activities. The energy reserve is essential for survival. This justifiable reasoning assumes that we concede our human physiology remains unchanged over the past 10,000 years.
Another conjecture, which happens to be my own, is the possibility of an inherent flaw. To be more exact, I might be part of an unascertained category of individuals destined never to derive pleasure from physical exertion.
Seeking answers from Google regarding exercising hatred won’t be fruitful. You’re likely to face criticism, mainly implying that you’re not working hard enough to enjoy it, perceivably a personal failure.
The abundance of articles boasting about the unquestionable benefits of exercise to both your physical and mental health are overwhelming. Such publications propose that physical activity causes a rush of endorphins, serotonin, dopamine, among other positive neurotransmitters, creating an internal high akin to smoking without actual smoke. The idea is to achieve such a mental state that makes you crave another round on the treadmill or extra minutes on the rowing machine.
Several overly-enthusiastic articles compare the exhilaration felt during exercise to the one experienced during intimate moments or drug use. Having experienced both, I beg to differ. I have come across countless individuals who celebrate the mind-altering impacts of physical activity and are stunned to learn that I have yet to experience this euphoria. It could simply be a result of conforming to the group’s perceived experience in a gym. Or, it’s possible that I’m deficient in something, say endorphins, since birth. Maybe I need a boost through injections.
It’s crucial to determine the number of people sharing the same sentiment towards fitness. I am confident that I’m not alone in this. As the new year sets in, many aim to embark on a healthier journey, purchasing gym memberships, only to utilise it two or three times before calling it quits. Some might go to the extent of changing their phone numbers to escape continual interactions with trainers. These people have found the distaste for exercise ingrained deeply within them and have realised the dreaded, sweaty futility it brings. However, these feelings seldom surface due to the guilt of underperforming because that’s what the societal norm expects from you.