It’s going to be touch and go to see if I get to the end of typing out all of these words, friends, because I played a competitive squash game for the first time in seven years last night. The walking up and down stairs is proving the major problem, but my forearms are also up in arms.
It took a lot of persuasion to get me back on court. This featured but was not limited to: a friendly team captain who kept pointing me in the direction of women’s training sessions, a university friend who got me added to the WhatsApp group so the reminders would keep coming and, in the end, the hint of a free meal on the night.
In the hours before the desire to cancel loomed so large. It’s hard to articulate exactly what was going on in my head because a lot of it was just that familiar high-pitched fear whine. ‘This is going to be embarrassing. What if I can’t do it? What if everyone laughs at me?
‘I’m going to pass out I’m going to be so unfit. I can’t do it. It’s so dark and cold out there I actually probably shouldn’t leave the house come to think of it.’
Now I’m hoping you have better self-talk than I do, but I’m fairly sure from talking with people about trying to get in shape generally that I’m not alone in this.
I was finally inspired out of the door by remembering the couple in their sixties I heard from at a Spurs Foundation event this week, speaking about the nervousness they’d had about going to exercise classes the foundation runs. Charities like this have to express the impact they have in pounds – and these figures are impressive – but the pride that these two had about getting active and the joy they now find in exercise was beautiful to see.
Society has long had an ageist approach to what people can do, with sport the apotheosis of this. And while it is changing, progress is slow.
A recent study of 4,000 pictures chosen to represent sporting endeavour online found that while older people were represented occasionally, it was only playing lawn bowls. A great sport, undoubtedly, but not the only one.
Clearly the challenges facing a sedentary or disabled person trying to access sport for the first time in their sixties or seventies are different to those I encounter as an active 37 year old. But at all life stages the point remains that the barriers are both structural and learned.
Exercise hurts. So if you are taught from an early age that it’s not your space, it makes absolute sense to reject it. But to do so robs you of access to so much that is your right: health, community and even joy! And while I definitely think fitness has to be a habit to get those rewards in full, the main thing is to go once.
I’m generally averse to the AI function on Google, but in this case, it does the job perfectly. In 30 seconds I find free classes down the road, and could theoretically be swimming in 15 minutes’ time.
There are a huge raft of charities devoted to helping you find exercise to do at your level – This Girl Can and Age UK currently have great campaigns. And look up British Weight Lifting to find out about their programme, because there is so much evidence that lifting weights will help you live better longer. (I have done it, I felt silly, but I also felt kind of cool afterwards.)
The clocks change this weekend. The nights are about to get serious. I admit now may be the wrong moment to exhort you to seek out sport. But the long, dark nights do mess with us and guess what is one of the few things that helps? Endorphins.
As for my return to the court… no one laughed at me, I met new people of all ages and at some point I’m sure the aching will cease. And every time I think about it I can’t stop smiling.
