I think I’ve decided that 10 minutes is exactly the wrong amount of time for me.
Instead, what’s worked is breaking it up into five two-minute chunks. Two minutes is waiting for the toast to pop or for the coffee to brew. I can do two minutes while brushing teeth, or in our house, waiting for the bathroom. I can do two minutes waiting for a Teams meeting to begin. Turns out I have lots of free two-minute chunks but very few ten-minute ones.
The other thing that’s worked is habit stacking. I’ve been adding some of these stretches and mobility moves to my stretching and cool-down after personal training. I’m already on the floor, so it’s easier to add in some other moves.
I still want to be the sort of person who has ten minutes in the morning to dedicate to a mobility routine but instead I’m the sort of person, it turns out, if I have 10 minutes to spare, I’ll empty the dishwasher or climb back under the covers.
When I searched for my old post, here’s the page of videos that show up in the search results. They all look like a great idea. Maybe I need to do it for a week and see if I feel better and then do it because it feels better?
A few weeks ago, I shared my excitement about a longer run I’d done with a close friend, a runner and occasional running companion. Some context: as those of you who read my posts know, I’ve set myself the challenge of doing a 21k run once a month this year. This is a stretch, given I never ran that distance once last year and had foot surgery. It’s a challenge I think can complete. And each time I’ve set out so far this year, I’ve felt a frisson of fear. So, when I finish, I’m relieved, with a side dish of woohoo. When I shared, my friend said, with real frustration: “Every time I think I’ve done a good workout, I hear what you’ve done, and I feel like a loser.”
Crap. My first instinct was guilt. Am I a jerk? Why did I even need to say it? Did I offer the news in a showoff tone? Was my timing bad? Out for dinner on a Friday night. I am still thinking through how I might have said things better or whether I should have held off. I’m still examining my own motivations for sharing. Why do I even need to? (Even as I’m sharing my accomplishment here, too).
Sure, I know that the comparison isn’t mine to manage. Still, I don’t want to make my friend feel bad. Nor do I want to have the wind sucked out of my sails. The math her brain ran wasn’t her workout versus her goals. It was her workout versus mine. And she felt like she’d lost. And then I lost, too. Because comparison is a rigged game. Nobody wins.
This is happening all the time. Someone gets a promotion and we audit our own career, instead of truly celebrating their achievement. Someone posts a beautiful photo of themselves, and we scrutinize ourselves in the mirror, alert to everywhere the crow has stepped. The scoreboard is running 24/7 in the background, and we are behind.
I have those game announcer voices, telling me someone else has more. More success. More money. More love. More beauty. More … you name it. All of which can spiral me down the I’m not enough drain. So much noise.
When is anything enough?
I know. You know. We know. Enough is enough when we decide that it is so. We live in a maelstrom of enablers (hello social media), which inundate us with opportunities to compare and despair. The real accounting has to happen inside our own selves, or it will eat at us in perpetuity.
Our work is to find that tiny pause between the comparison and the collapse. My longtime mindfulness practice serves me here. When I give the voices space to rant and offer them gentle support. Plus, the slow accumulation of wisdom that comes from long years of repeatedly recognizing the fruitlessness of comparison.
There’s no finite supply of fitness, or success, or beauty, or achievement being divided up among us. My enough does not necessitate someone else’s not enough. Even if the voices inside our heads want us to believe that this life is a zero-sum game.
Oh, and also, when I told my youngest brother that I’d run my April 21k, he told me that he’d done seventeen (yes, 17) 21k runs already this year. Did I feel frustrated? Maybe the teeny, tiniest bit. Mostly, I thought, wow. He’s on a streak. Also, youngster!
On May 1st, I did my 21k for the month. I woke up with that pre-run anxiety. I arrived home on my doorstep with a thrill. A reminder of the joy that lives inside my body.
During the pandemic, I enoyed daily Yoga with Adriene, but it’s been a challenge ever since. That’s more about knee surgery and knee physio than anything else, for me.
But I feel like I’m moving past–finally!–the focus on knees. I’m doing new things, like skating. I’m taking some fun classes, like anti-gravity restorative fitness at Movati, and I’m going on long walks. I am so very very happy about all of that!
I’m also thinking it’s time to revisit Adriene. I miss her! I’m not going to be able to manage every day, but I thought I might try her new content each month.
I’m a few days late for the new Action for Happiness monthly calendar but I really love the idea of Meaningful May.
I’m not one of those people who insists that every single moment must be saturated with meaning but I am one of those people who thinks that any given ordinary moment could be meaningful – and I firmly believe that meaning is worth seeking/creating.
So, obviously, I’m a fan of the tiny daily ideas that this month’s Action for Happiness calendar provides for seeking meaning in the ordinary.
I like all of the suggestions but I find the idea of making ‘a list of the things that matter to me and why’ especially appealing.
Which Meaningful May tip appeals to you the most?
A daily calendar for May 2026 from Action for Happiness. The individual blocks are pink, red, light blue, or darker blue and there is a tip for seeking meaning typed into each one. The edge of the calendar is decorated with simple cartoon images of things like a cup of tea, a paper airplane, a person on a bike, or a few planets. At the bottom of the calendar the words ‘Happier. Kinder. Together’ appear in green.
PS – If you want to hear a bit more about Meaningful May, check out the Action for Happiness video below “How to find meaning in the past, present and future. Meaningful May with Vanessa King.
A video from Action for Happiness featuring Vanessa King, a white woman with shoulder length hair and a bright expression on her face looking directly at the camera with a few plants and an old black and white photo of a couple on their wedding day. on the right ide of the image is text reading “Finding Meaning: 3 top tips with Vanessa King.”
Workout 1: Aqua Bootcamp at Movati (plus 15 minutes of lane swimming before the class began), 10 am
Workout 2: Anti-gravity Restorative Yoga at Movati with Sarah, 1 pm
Workout 3: Dog hike in Starkey Hill Conservation Area with Susan and Cheddar, 3 km. You can read about the trail here, 3 pm
I’m still taking part in the counting workouts group on Facebook, 226 in 2026 this year, and these were workouts 165-167.
After all the movement we enjoyed a fun family evening with Susan and my mother and all the adult kids. We ate General Tso tofu and broccoli, followed by chocolate birthday cake. Happy birthday Susan!
No shopping season is starting early this year. As I started unpacking my summer clothes (also perhaps early, I know, there’s a frost warning this weekend), I was struck by how many of them were bought during the pandemic. Memories of nap dresses, headbands, and lots of athleisure wear.
I tend to shop when stressed, but these days my overstuffed house is also a big source of stress. So I’m back to trying to stick to another summer of no shopping. I’m determined not to add to the “too much stuff.”
So my summer of no shopping is May, June and July.
I also recently decided to just get rid of things I wasn’t wearing anymore, some formal suits and dresses, but also shoes with heels I’ve never returned to after knee surgery.
Why does a fitness blog talk about shopping? I’ve wondered about that too. Mostly I think it comes down to mental health and well-being.
It’s May in New England, which means: flower power time! In particular, the tulips are out and showing off all over town. Everything is blooming these days, and I am reveling in the colors, shapes and textures of spring.
For whatever reason, this spring I’ve been in search of novelty– I’ve been craving new experiences and sensory experiences. One way I’ve satisfied this desire has been to seek out more music and dance– I’ve gone to two modern dance performances and heard four classical music ensembles live.
I’ve also brightened up my home by buying flowers through the winter– mostly Trader Joe’s tulips (20 stems for $12.99– you can’t beat that deal). Now I have a spring flower share, which I’m loving.
But now that spring is really really here and the weather, while often rainy, is warmer, nature is beckoning. I just renewed my membership to Garden in the Woods, and am planning a visit there with friend as soon as my final exams are over.
I’m also planning a trip to the Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens, a humongous place with a great variety of gardens and natural areas to explore. It’s in Boothbay, Maine, a place I’ve never been, which is also a plus in the travel novelty category.
Now that I think about, my need for color and shape and texture outside the four walls of my home is not particularly novel. I wrote about my search for May flowers a couple of years ago. You can read it below.
This just goes to show that everything new is also old again. Which is kind of good news, I think.
Social connection is an important factor in wellbeing. And if the past week is any indication, I will be well for a very long time.
Three months ago I gave my notice of retirement to my boss. Halfway through my mini-speech he joked “no, you can’t leave. We are supposed to win at capitalism together!”
And that joke set the tone of the next three months. Once we had settled on a plan we let my team know my retirement date and put a call out for my replacement.
Then something unexpected happened. My in office days became much more social. People I knew but didn’t see much in my current role started dropping by my desk or talking to me in the cafeteria.
It was a gentle touch on my arm, a smile or a hug. Sometimes it was a teasing or a confession of jealousy. All of it gifts of connection that just kept coming.
Part of me worried that this long goodbye was self indulgent. I know plenty of people who pull an “Irish Goodbye”. It’s when you just walk out of work and no one knows you have retired.
I’m here to tell you to not do that. If, like me, you have the privilege of choosing when you leave your paid work, choose a long goodbye.
Your colleagues need time to hear the news, come see you and bring you stories.
I worked in production when I joined Canada Life (then London Life). Two years in I became a leader. I’ve led 8 teams over 9 years. That’s a lot of people!
And so many of them reached out.
“Thank you for treating me like a human being.”
I’m crying just writing that. It seems like such a low bar to meet. To just relate to each other as people who matter. And we do matter.
I was told so many stories about how I helped someone through tough times by caring and being flexible.
There is definitely one person who is alive today because I took their mental health concerns seriously. Talk about making a difference.
I was delighted how many people told me they read this blog about fitness. Some folks follow me on Instagram or have added me on Facebook to see my morning cycling commute videos.
“Will you keep posting about cycling?”
Turns out those quick, off-the-cuff videos encourage lots of folks to be more active. What a gift to know I help them.
So many parties
This past week I went out 4 nights with different groups of friends to say goodbye. It was marvelous. So many good laughs and hugs.
Princess planned her own party
Since I’m technically just quitting my job there was no formal retirement company gift or funds for a party. So I decided I’d just put the word out that people could say goodbye Thursday morning 10 – 11:30 in a common use space near the cafeteria.
I invited a couple hundred people expecting maybe 30 to show up.
In the weeks running up to the day declines and quick messages trickled in.
“I’m still sick.”
“My dad’s in hospital.”
“I’m out of town.”
I had a creeping concern I’d be sitting by myself in a tiara feeling stupid. That fear is why many people choose not to have a reception.
Uh. My fears were unfounded. My colleague baked THREE CAKES. As she was unboxing them people started arriving, then forming a queue. The line-up went out the door, around the corner and down the hall.
My buddy dressed in her inflatable dinosaur costume. It was a carnival atmosphere.
A crowd in a hallway. In the distance you can see a dinosaur. Thank you Marc for the photo!
The line was full of laughter and folks being delighted to see other friends and connecting.
The line was so long some people had to leave for meetings and sent quick notes after.
Sharing is caring
Sharing fitness adventures at work, posting fitness stuff on LinkedIn where everyone is focused on business is so important. Our activities can give us a common base to build on. It helps us see each other as full people, not just interchangeable production units.
Long post, long goodbyes
I’m writing this Saturday morning while eating more cake with my coffee.
I’m looking at the mountain of thoughtful gifts and funny cards. People took time to know me and the gifts reflect the crafty, active plant lady I am. How marvelous.
A giant “love fern” is surrounded with cards and gifts.
Don’t forget the swearing
I’m known for cussing a blue streak in meetings. People find it hilarious. So when my team gave me a goodbye card I was delighted it read “Thanks for leaving us behind, asshole.” I couldn’t stop laughing.
They 3D printed a gift card holder “Fucking quitter. Oops we mean HAPPY RETIREMENT”
I’m still laughing. Perfect!
So. Yes. Long story longer. The long goodbye makes room for connection and closure. 10/10 I will long goodbye again.
It was a long winter in Toronto. When I started running over 20 years ago, I started in the fall, and I continued throughout the winter. The first official race I participated in was a “Chilly 10K” in December. With this foundation for my running experience, I continued to run outside throughout the winter. Most winters in Toronto would allow for enough days where the snow was plowed quickly and the sidewalks were not icy. I developed a rule that as long as it wasn’t colder than -10 C and the sidewalks were clear, I’d go for my jog. My jogs were not as long as they were in the spring-autumn season, but still, I’d go out and run.
I have found the last couple winters to be more challenging for outdoor running. The main reason is that there seemed to be more “icy sidewalk” days. There seems to be a lot more extreme fluctuations, day-to-day, with lots of snow, cold, freezing, warmer, melting – and back and forth – which tends to result in icy sidewalks. With age, I can tell that I’m becoming averse to walking on even a little bit of ice.
I also don’t like running on treadmills. Years ago, one of the weird movement things I developed was that as soon as I get any speed going, my brain instructs my legs to jump to the sides. I just don’t bother anymore. I don’t enjoy the treadmill and I don’t care. It’s only been an issue when I went for a stress test once and determined that I needed to get on a waiting list for the bicycle version of a stress test, because I was incapable of walking on the treadmill long enough and fast enough for it to be an effective test.
I digress. Where was I?
It was a long winter. For running. For grief. For many things. However, I’ve been running regularly again. Last week, I had one of the best runs in a long time. I beamed about it. I wrote about it. I glowed about too much joy. Then (did I plutz too much?), a few days later, I went out for a jog and the anxiety-induced vertigo that was an issue in recent years, started to emerge again. Not as forcefully as last time. It’s manageable, but it’s there. It feels clearly like a head condition. Connected to a feeling of anxiety that affects my feeling of stability in the world. Possibly triggered by spring allergies, even though I now take heavy-duty prescription antihistamines daily.
I am working my way through the things that help me with getting through it. I have lessons in my pocket from last time, that I’m employing faster and more regularly and, I’m hoping, it doesn’t get worse.
One of the things I find helps, is warming up a bit. Walk a bit first. Then transition to a run/walk and then I get a better rhythm. You may see me doing some walking warm-ups. Swinging my arms to and fro to feel my balance in the world. I also talk to myself. I bring out my mantras. “I am. I can. I will. I do. Envision. Thank you”. “Don’t take the shortcut.” “Fuck it.” “Just go.” “Your legs are strong.” “YOU ARE A RUNNER!”
I also look at places to ‘go to” as the next part of my leg – a utility pole or a car or a sign. It helps to focus on that next destination rather than the current portion of sidewalk I’m on.
I don’t know if it’s helping my running but I am always aware of the people I think about who are no longer here but who are present. My Mom. I’ve said to people recently, when we talk about the great void with her loss, that I feel her everywhere. Her energy is EVERYWHERE. At the tip of my nose. At the back of my skull. She is present. I think of a late Aunt (she died in 2010) who called me when I completed my first marathon and I was so surprised at how emotional she was about it. I didn’t know she would be so proud of something like that but she really, really was.
It’s occurring to me lately, that what IS helping my running, is “relying on a little help from my friends”. I don’t mean physically. I like to run on my own. I mean conjuring up experiences that make me feel like I have my friends’ support with me in the moment. I think of gym classes, where we’d go outside the gym and run together as a group for a little loop. I think of those people, imagine them running next to me. I think of gym friends and imagine they are waiting for me ahead. This helps.
This imaginary community support reminds me of a quote from Maya Angelou, “I come as one, but I stand as 10,000.” I have thought of this concept outside of running. For example, when I’m anticipating a tough call at work. I’ve thought of the strong family role models I’ve had. I think of the things they’ve had to endure and how strongly they would have handled those situations. I know not all things are relative, but sometimes, I’ve thought, if they could deal with that (big) thing, I can surely handle this (much smaller) thing. It makes sense that that this feeling of community support, that I’m fortunate to have had in my life – whether from family members or friends, around me or no longer in my life, can help me feel confident during times of uncertainty.
How about you readers, are there situations where you conjure up, “a little help from your friends”, even if only in your imagination?
