Prove Me Wrong is a new summer series in which Guardian Australia colleagues argue over whose tastes on popular culture, food and leisure activities are right … and whose are wrong.
Alyx Gorman: Ellen, you sickeningly fit person, you probably get an “endorphin rush” when you work out. The only rush I experience doing cardio is a rush of childhood trauma, of asthma attacks on icy ovals in the depths of Canberra winter. Or a rush of dizziness followed by actual fainting. Don’t tell me I haven’t “found the right exercise”. I’ve done it all. I’ve Spun and HIIT and Zumba’d and I’ve hated every second of every one. It’s not the exercise. It is exercise. I hate my heart rate going up. I hate my face flushing. I hate sweating. And afterwards I don’t feel high – I feel hungover. But by all means, try to prove me wrong.
Ellen Leabeater: Alyx, do you know what? I grew up not dissimilar to you. I pretty much hated cardio all through primary and high school. I did swimming lessons because my parents forced me to. I ran around Sydney’s western suburbs for school cross country in the baking heat, very displeased my face was red and my hair was ruined for the rest of the day.
Then two things happened when I was about 20. I had a bad breakup, and I signed up for my first triathlon. Training for that race was the only thing that got me out of bed, and I ended up crossing the finishing line with – you’re right – the biggest endorphin rush I’d ever felt. Seven years later, exercise never fails to make me feel better when I’m feeling crap, thanks to all those endorphins.
Now, I don’t expect you to do a triathlon tomorrow. But having spent enough time training three forms of cardio week in week out, I can give you some tips to make it easier and more enjoyable.
First things first: fuel. As a female, you shouldn’t be out exercising on an empty stomach. So make sure you have something in the tank before you head out. The second thing I would keep in mind is where you are in your menstrual cycle (assuming you’re not on any hormonal contraceptive). Cardio is easier in the first stage of your cycle (the follicular phase) versus the second stage (the luteal phase), so if you want your cardio session to suck less, choose your time wisely.
As for the actual activity, Spin, HIIT and Zumba classes are not ideal if you hate having a high heart rate. There is real merit to doing aerobic activity at a lower intensity – both for general fitness and weight loss. Think walking, jogging, hiking, pilates, swimming. That way, your heart rate stays stable, your face won’t flush as much, and – at least during the months of March to October in Sydney – you won’t sweat. You also strike me as someone who does not enjoy someone yelling at you for 50 mins, or the prospect of other eyes on you, so these are activities perfect to do by yourself, possibly while listening to the Full Story podcast.
I’d like you to start small – try one minute running alternated with four minutes’ walking for 30 minutes – and let me know how you go. The best part is, even low-intensity exercise will give you an endorphin rush. So put your asthma puffer in your pocket, lace up and go chase that high, Alyx!
Alyx Gorman: OK, torturer, I’ve done what you asked. At your recommendation I carb-loaded with a healthful dinner of popcorn and prosecco (I was at the theatre – what?) and an even more healthful breakfast of nothing, then I set out on my running adventure, the conflict in Ethiopia in my ears. The first spate of walking was fine. I like walking – particularly in bushland – but since that wasn’t available my local park had to do.
About 30 seconds into my first minute-run, I started to feel a familiar tightness in my chest. After the second sprint I was reaching for my Ventolin. Around this time, the weight of my phone started pulling my ancient leggings down, exposing my underwear to the world. With every minute of running, the walking got harder and by the end of this experiment I started to feel as if there was a thread between my ovaries, tugging them up and out through my navel.
Before I set out, my husband looked at me with concern and said: “Can you even do this?” I’d shot him a withering look. But unfortunately he was right, I didn’t expect to feel quite so biffed by the end of it. The most frustrating part is it didn’t even feel like it was doing anything for me. My legs, the part of my body I was ostensibly using, felt none of the satisfying ache I used to get from pilates, before the pandemic rendered me totally sedentary. Meanwhile, my organs felt as though they were failing.
The good news is, alternating between running and walking stopped me from going the deep beetroot red I particularly loathe, and now, 40 minutes later, I almost, almost no longer feel like crying. A record recovery where cardio is concerned.
You haven’t exactly proved me wrong. I really do hate running, and the flush of feelgood hormones is yet to materialise. But this endeavour has reminded me how shockingly inactive I’ve become. It may not give me an endorphin rush, but it’s probably time I got back on the pilates mat. In my book, that counts as cardio too – and at least I can do it lying down.
