Back in January, I was tired.

Like down to the marrow, could fall asleep at any moment TIRED.

Was it because the cat kept waking me up between 2 and 5 am every day to pet her? Maybe. Could it be because the world was going to shit after number 47 took office and started taking away rights and other important things? Maybe. Could it be because I started working out more consistently? Again, maybe.

About the working out…

When I started having panic attacks, I had a hard time trusting my body. And when I exercise and my heart rate goes up, my brain immediately thinks that I am having a panic attack.

I used to love to work out. When I was in college it was 2 hours a day of dance and step. When I was working it was Zumba and spin. I had favorite instructors that I would follow from studio to studio. But when my anxiety started, I stopped all of that. I was too afraid of what my heart would do. Even going for a slow walk sent my brain into overdrive.

However, I thought it was high time I started making moves to trust her again, which means, she’s gotta move. And not with the intention of weight loss.

Back to being tired…

I’ve have been consistent with my work outs since the beginning of January. Just 20 minutes most days of the week. Sometimes more if I’m feeling like it. But today, I was exhausted. I didn’t feel like moving my body.

Yesterday, I did a 10 minute arms work out through the Peloton app and thought, “Maybe a walk would be nice.” It wasn’t. I got on the treadmill, put on my walking mix, and stopped about 10 minutes in because my heart was skipping beats and my head wasn’t in it. But moving is moving, a win is a win.

Fast forward to today. I was tired again, but instead of pushing myself I thought, “How can I compromise with my body on movement when I’m feeling so drained?” The compromise: 20 minutes of slow flow yoga with the agreement that I could quit at any time. I ended up doing the whole 20 minutes and ended up feeling really good. Way better, even, then I had the day before when I pushed myself.

The lesson learned from today’s yoga session: listen to your body.

Some days are for hour long power walks; some days are for slow flow yoga. I trusted my body today to tell me what she needed, and when I listened, she delivered.

I’m turning 40 in July (Ah!), and as I’m looking down the barrel of the rest of my life, I want to do what I can to make sure that, if I am lucky enough to live a long life (I have three living grandparents all aged 95 years old if you can believe it), I am happy and healthy and able to live independently for all the years I get to do this whole life thing.

As someone with hereditary high cholesterol (she likes to sit anywhere between 200 and 265), I’ve noticed that when I am moving my body consistently, the numbers are better than when I’m not.

But as I continue on this path of healing my relationship with movement and my body, I am learning the important lessons that there’s no need for an all or nothing approach to movement; consistency looks different for everyone; and slow is just as good.

Until next week, friends.