Moving with joy
Discover how these people learned to love exercise
We’re often told staying active is necessary for good health. But working out doesn’t have to be a chore. In fact, finding an activity you love can make it something you look forward to. Here’s how three people with diabetes found a form of exercise that became part of their identity – and how you can find what clicks for you
In November 2019,
Paul Waterstraat, 69, crossed the finish line of his third half-marathon. A few years ago, he never would have dreamed of this goal. Back then, his last run had been a timed mile in high school PE class. He had been living with type 2 diabetes since the 1990s, and was managing excess weight, high cholesterol and high blood pressure.
But when Waterstraat retired in 2016 and found himself with extra free time, he began walking to many places in his neighbourhood that he used to drive to – the coffee shop, restaurants to meet friends for lunch and the supermarket. After nine months, he noticed his blood glucose, blood pressure and cholesterol numbers had begun to improve. He felt more alive and had a renewed interest in doing things such as going out with friends and taking his pet dog, Molly, for longer walks. His mind felt sharper, too.
Heartened by his progress, he downloaded a Couch-to-5K app that alternated one minute of jogging and two minutes of walking, then gradually ramped up. He began following a plan that built up to 30 minutes of non-stop running over eight weeks. After that, he joined a running group and gradually increased his distance until he was running 10km races and half-marathons.
How does one go from not running at all to running halfmarathons in one’s 60s? The secret, it turns out, is enjoyment. Walking and running gave Waterstraat a new way to experience and appreciate the world around him. “At a walking or running pace, you notice more subtlety and nuance: which plants are blooming and if the robins are flocking back for spring,” he says. “It’s like being a child again, wanting to stop and marvel at something every few feet. It’s a beautiful world full of delight!” He also began to look forward to the productive solitude that comes with logging kilometres. “It feels like being in a subtle meditative state,” he says.
Waterstraat didn’t set out to be a runner. “I had no intention of ever running an organised race. I just wanted to get my weight in control,” he says. And the activity did help his health. “In the years since I started walking and running, I’ve lost 36 kilograms, my doctor has dropped about half of my medications, my medical test results are better than ever and I feel great,” he says. His blood glucose and HbA1c are both in range and he no longer takes medications to manage his diabetes.
But working up a sweat can bring benefits beyond your physical health. When you find a form of movement that clicks with you, being active can give you new perspective, a sense of freedom and a joy that you look forward to. Find the right type of exercise and it may no longer feel like a chore that helps you stay healthy. “Running has taken on a life of its own,” says Waterstraat. “The medical benefits used to be the main focus. Now they are just the sideshow.”
More than an endorphin rush
Perhaps you’ve heard of, or even experienced, a ‘runner’s high’ – an exercise-induced mood boost that happens after a workout session or race. There’s a physiological explanation for that postworkout euphoria. Exercise elevates levels of serotonin and norepinephrine, neurochemicals that transmit messages within the nervous system and regulate your mood, sense of wellbeing and energy levels, says J. Kip Matthews, a performance and sports psychologist. Plus, researchers have found that doing an aerobic activity you enjoy can activate the endocannabinoid system – the ‘feel-good’ system in the body – improving mood and symptoms of anxiety more than by doing a workout that
feels ‘prescribed’.
Yet it’s not just the immediate mood boost after exercise that can make movement a valuable part of your life. There is a long-term benefit as well. “When you stumble upon an activity you click with, you start to immerse yourself in the culture of that activity,” says Matthews. “It becomes part of your identity. You move from saying, ‘I’m going for a run’ to ‘I’m a runner.’” When an activity becomes part of your identity, it influences your internal motivation. “You’re no longer doing it because your doctor told you to. You’re doing it because you see it as part of who you are,” adds Matthews.
That’s what happened to Waterstraat. When he first joined a local running group, he worried about being a “non-runner” in the team. But his fears were quickly allayed. “When we started training, no one looked down on me because I couldn’t run a full mile [1.6km],” he says. “It was a community that challenged me, cheered me, and helped me build a fitnessoriented lifestyle.”
He began to look forward to the company of his training crew, and he ran farther and farther each week. One day, as he was getting ready to leave the house, his wife asked how far he was running. “I answered, ‘Only eight miles [13km].’ She replied, ‘Did you just hear yourself?
Only eight miles!’ At that point I realised I am a runner,” he says. ➤
Finding a new source of confidence
While deeply connecting with a form of physical activity can be inspiring, finding the right activity ‘fit’ can be a challenge. “It’s natural to get stuck in certain identities and put (and keep) ourselves in boxes,” says Carrie Cheadle, a certified mental performance consultant and director of the Mental Skills Training Program for Diabetes Training Camp in Pennsylvania. To help people move beyond preconceived ideas of what they can and cannot do, Cheadle says it’s critical to have a safe space to try something new. Beginner classes or workshops, especially those geared towards people with diabetes, can be a good way to dip your toe into an activity for the first time.
Or, enlist a friend or trainer to show you the ropes. “Often, what we think of as lack of motivation is really a lack of confidence,” she says.
And with greater confidence, Cheadle has seen significant changes in how people see and think of themselves and what they’re willing to try.
She’s even seen some people who had never ridden a bike prior to participating in a Diabetes Training Camp not only try and enjoy cycling, but also go on to complete Half Ironman and Ironman triathlons.
Take Shay Erlich, 32, for example. Because Erlich has faced a lifelong struggle with proprioception (knowing where and how your body is oriented in space), team sports were never appealing. “I’ve had a body that has wanted to be active my whole life, but participating in organised physical activities was a major challenge for me as a young person. I hated PE and was awful at most organised sports,” they say (Erlich uses genderneutral pronouns).
It wasn’t until the Toronto resident, who has type 1, started dance and aerial circus that something clicked. “I can feel present in my body when I move. I can feel muscles stretch and activate,” they say. Erlich also notices that because these physical activities demand absolute attention, they are forced to stay in the present moment: “It gives me freedom from everything else in my head and that keeps me motivated.”
But it hasn’t been easy. Due to chronic illness, Erlich has used mobility devices, including a walker and motorised scooter, for almost 10 years and began using a manual wheelchair two years ago. “When I started [aerial circus], I was so disconnected from how to use my body. It took me three to four weeks to just figure out how to hang from an aerial hoop,” they say. Erlich used a training log to keep track of their goals – and the dates they accomplished them, which helped develop their confidence. “I can look back and say, ‘Oh right. It took me this many weeks of trying to figure it out.’”
More recently, Erlich stepped even further outside of their comfort zone. Over the winter, they started playing sledge hockey, an adapted form of ice hockey in which players sit on sleds. “It’s been a real switch moving from individual activities to a formalised team sport.
I was nervous,” they admit.
Erlich was surprised by how far out of the way their teammates have gone to make them feel included. And the time on the ice? “It’s so much fun,” they say. “For me, getting more into adapted sports that met my body’s needs was really the key to having a life that was more active and full.” ➤
Getting into adapted sports that met my body’s needs was the key to having a life that was more active and full. – Shay Erlich
I get to do this
According to Cheadle, research shows that knowing about the health benefits of physical activity isn’t enough for most people to get started (or to stick with it!). Often, it’s only when you’re in the driving seat and get to choose what interests you that exercise switches from something you have to do to being something you want to do.
When Toronto resident Carol Ching, 29, started college, the stress of university and work pushed exercise to the backburner. Then, in 2013, at the age of 22, she was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes.
“Having to carry insulin with me and do fingerpricks, it became a full-time job,” she says. At times, Ching thought about getting back into skiing, which she had picked up in Year Seven, but she had a hard time gauging how exercise would affect her blood glucose levels and wondered how she would manage symptoms such as thirst and fatigue. “Everything [with diabetes] was purely physical, which led me to believe I couldn’t do much and that I wouldn’t have the energy to work out,” she says.
“It was just too overwhelming to add anything else to the equation.”
It took some experimentation (and eventually a CGM), but Ching began to figure out how to manage her blood glucose while being active. Then she found that re-engaging in physical activity was a turning point. In 2016, her partner at the time encouraged her to try rock climbing. Her first session on the wall was terrifying. “I was, and still am, super afraid of heights and I had zero muscle strength,” she says. But now, she opts to climb on a regular basis because it’s more than just a physical activity. She explains rock climbing is like a puzzle, a mental workout to figure out which holds to use on the wall, how to coordinate your feet and how to manage your strength and endurance. In some ways, she says, as with managing diabetes, figuring out each challenge in climbing is rewarding. “It feels impossible to reach the top, but you do it and you can move on to the next thing,” she says. Ching also returned to skiing in 2016. And, when she zooms down a mountain, carving side to side on her skis, she’s chuckling inside. “I just like the freedom when I point my skis down a slope and push off. Even if it’s for a couple of minutes, I feel free,” she says.
It has given Ching a sense of endless possibilities. “I can climb at a gym or outdoors. I can ski in Toronto or in Japan. I’m not stuck. I don’t feel tied up with life and what I’m dealing with,” she says. “Because these activities are kind of extreme, it’s allowed me to feel like my diabetes is no longer a barrier.”
Ching also started cycling, and now cycles to work regularly. She has found that in addition to the bike commute giving her more energy to start the day, it has also helped her maintain her blood glucose and reduce her insulin intake. “I was able to lower my HbA1c from double digits to single digits in the matter of a 18 months,” she says. While she still finds motivation to be a challenge from time to time, she knows she feels 10 times better when she’s active. “It makes me feel good to be alive.”