The Joy in Movement

For years I thought exercise had to be punishment. Something loud. Something measured. Something that looked like effort and sweat and soreness in all the right places. I tried the gyms. The routines. The classes with names that sounded like they came from action movies.

But none of it stayed.

What did stay were the long walks after dinner, music in my ears and no destination. The bike rides that turned into races with the wind. The hikes that ended in silence and sun on my shoulders. The dancing in the kitchen when no one was watching.

That was movement too.

No reps. No rules. Just joy.

The most sustainable exercise is the one that feels like play. The kind that reminds you you’re alive, not being tested.

So if it makes you laugh, if it helps you breathe easier, if it makes time disappear—

That counts.

Call it training. Call it therapy. Call it coming home to your body.

Whatever it is—if it moves you and you love it, keep doing it.

Because the best kind of strong is the kind that stays.