Raynham, Massachusetts
April 18, 2022
Boy, I fell hard and deeply into this trap in my 30s and 40s. Crawling out of that trap was a difficult experience but so worth it. One upside of working for the government -- to stay sane you really need to separate your life from your work. It was also helpful to move from the DC area where every conversation starts with "What do you do?" as if what we do defines who we are. (It also took me a while to catch on to the insidious nature of that question. Slow learner.)
From today's WSJ:
The writing assignment was exceedingly simple: a quick paragraph to introduce myself. I’d just gotten a new job as a columnist at The Wall Street Journal, and it was time to send out the internal announcement.
The first few sentences were easy: a recap of my years reporting for the newspaper. Then, a beat about my husband and two young kids. Then…what? I knew what was supposed to go here, my hypothetical adventures in sourdough bread-baking or open-water swimming or chipping away at that novel in a desk drawer. Something, anything, that rounded out my life away from the deadlines and diaper changes. Problem was, there wasn’t anything. My days were a blur of work and kids. And while I loved both things beyond measure, I also felt kind of lost.
“It’s like erasure,” says Eve Rodsky, the author of books about domestic labor and carving out time for creativity. So many of us—especially mothers—feel reduced to any of three roles, she says: partner, parent, professional.
The resulting mix of boredom and overwhelm makes us feel that we’re drowning in daily duties.
The antidote is carving out another space, Ms. Rodsky says, an activity outside of work and family that brings happiness and meaning. The kind of experience that makes you say to yourself, “I can’t believe I just did that.” “Everyone needs an identity that’s more complex,” she adds.
But I was too tired to figure out what that other identity might be. The one-year-old was waking at night. The column had to be written every week. Maybe this was having it all? I muddled along, doing OK—until I wasn’t.
Eventually, the stresses started to mount: toddler tantrums, a department reorganization. One Monday, without thinking, I dug out a pair of gym shorts from the back of my dresser, laced up sneakers previously exclusively used for walking the dog, and ran—from everything. For 1.25 miles, I was in motion, unreachable, just me and my breath constant, my legs pumping.
“Why 1.25?” my best friend asked when I told her what I’d done.
“I ran a mile loop, and when I got back to the house, I still felt mad,” I said. “So I ran some more.”
For most of my life, I’d been the antithesis of an athlete. My grade-school soccer stint began with me begging my parents to buy the highly-cool team jacket and ended with me on the bench for every game. After college, I dabbled in some Indian dance classes but found that my sense of tempo—I can’t even clap in time with other spectators at baseball games—was, unsurprisingly, a deal breaker. And every seven years or so, generally when I’d gained a couple pounds, I’d attempt to run as fast I could, promptly feel like death and denounce my body as defective.
“There’s something wrong with my legs!” I’d tell my brothers, both marathoners.
This time felt different. I went slowly, focusing on staying in motion. I did not time my runs. I did not care about losing weight. I just liked the way I felt afterward, the rush of euphoria, then calm, the sudden revelatory sense that a tough edit or potty-training debacle wasn’t really a big deal after all.
Something about exercise alters the body, physiologically and psychologically, says Jacob Meyer, a professor of kinesiology at Iowa State University. The resulting feeling is likely not the work of endorphins, he says, adding that scientists don’t really understand the full mechanism. But our heart rate and breathing quicken. Our muscles contract.
‘Having that source of energy in our lives, and that respite from the other responsibilities, is what makes building the career, raising the family, sustainable.’
— Laura Vanderkam, a time-management expert
“Some part of that changes the way that people are thinking and feeling,” Dr. Meyer says. For an hour or two after exercise, anxiety and depression decrease, and cognitive engagement increases, his research finds. (I just knew I felt legitimately high.) If you keep working out, week after week, the effects persist, Dr. Meyer adds, leaving you with better mental health even when you’re not sweaty from a workout.
The best news: you don’t have to sprint. Moderate exercise, like a slow jog, will do it. And Dr. Meyer says it doesn’t matter if you’re obese, underweight, out of shape, whatever.
“That doesn’t affect the way that your body will respond to exercise,” he says.
I kept going. I sneaked in lunchtime runs, hopping in the shower with minutes to go before a Zoom meeting. After workouts, I was energized, better able to focus and write. I iced my ankle under my desk, stretched on my yoga mat with a kid crawling on top of me. I got injured and recovered.
“I can’t believe I just did that,” I’d think, the first time I ran 3 miles, then 5, then 10.
Privilege and luck were on my side: a supportive spouse, the ability to do my job remotely, bosses who trusted me as long as I did a great job and hit my deadlines. But no matter your situation—if you’re going back to the office full-time, if you’re a single parent—it’s possible to take the equivalent of one night a week for yourself, says Laura Vanderkam, a time-management expert. And it’s necessary.
“Having that source of energy in our lives, and that respite from the other responsibilities, is what makes building the career, raising the family, sustainable,” she says. “It reminds you there’s a world outside of work.”
She recommends picking an activity that meets at the same time and place each week, ideally with other people present, so you have accountability. If a workout isn’t for you, try singing in a choir or volunteering at a soup kitchen. The point is to stake a claim on something that fills you up, she says.
To make it happen, swap child-care duties with your partner, or a friend who has kids of a similar age. And ask for flexibility at work. It’s a good moment for that. There’s a built-in transition taking place as employers feel out the return to office, and the tight labor market has made bosses more likely to say yes for fear of losing talent. “It takes some courage,” Ms. Vanderkam says of making a request to tweak your schedule. “But it’s your life.”
I’ve spent this spring training for a half marathon, approaching this coming weekend. When I first set the goal, I joked to friends that once I hit the finish line, I’d be retiring from exercise. But now I know there’s no way. I’m a journalist, a wife, the mother of a three year-old and a four year-old. And I’m a runner now, too.
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