On forming habits by being insufferable
How I got fit by being incredibly annoying, and you can too!
It is simply not cool to be a joiner, by which I mean a joiner-inner, as opposed to a person who constructs architraves and stuff. Those guys are pretty cool. And probably earn more money than people who only construct emails.
Cool people are alone, aloof, possibly smoking, and definitely rolling their eyes at me for completing my 50th parkrun last weekend in the official celebratory cape.
But over the years, I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that I am a total embarrassing joiner of a person and an unashamed embracer of organised fun.
I’ve never quite worked out if I’m an introvert who’s often drunk or an extrovert who’s a bit socially awkward or just a complex human woman who can’t be put in a box, man, but I do know that the only times I’ve successfully stuck to things in my life there have been two common threads: structure and community.
Over the years I have been an active participant - never an admin; I like people, not power - in Facebook groups for various passing interests (vintage repro clothing! Breastfeeding! Terrible restrictive diets! And yes… running!) and while I haven’t actually *joined* the PTA, I always volunteer to work on the bar at school events, and not just because it’s where the hot dads are at.
All of this goes way back. As I tell people daily, I met my best friend via the Blur fan club penpal page when I was 15, and at one stage had over 100 pen-friends. I guess if I was 10 or 20 years younger these would have been internet friends and actually, as an early adopter, I had those too - I even “got married” in the NME.com chat room in 1998 to someone calling themselves PeterPanic. He seemed really sweet but I’m hoping it’s not legally binding.
Now that I’m a grown-up, for me to do anything consistently I need to know that other people are doing it and/or checking up on me doing it, and then find a way to communicate with those people. Being social, whether online or off, makes me feel accountable. Knowing that other people could be watching motivates me to do the thing and get better at doing the thing.
Internal validation does not really work for me. I have friends who exercise all the time, but they don’t feel the urge to share their run on Strava, discuss their squat depth on Instagram or, god forbid, start a fucking Substack.
I have learned that some of them don’t even own smart watches and in fact deliberately leave the house without their phones because they “enjoy just switching off and being in the moment”.
?!?!?!
I think these people are wonderful and they’re probably made of much stronger stuff than I am but I also can’t relate to them one tiny bit. They just… regularly make themselves exercise? And then… get on with their day without poring over the stats or deconstructing the intricacies of their running route while their spouse glazes over and so discuss it with strangers on the internet instead? THEY DON’T EVEN TAKE UNFLATTERING SELFIES TO SHOW OFF THAT THEY RAN TO THE CUTTY SARK AND BACK?
Absolute freaks.
Since I am never going to be the person winning their age category in a race or lifting heaviest at the gym, I have to get my validation in other ways. Putting it out there makes me feel part of something bigger and affirms that, even if all my Strava pals are at least three minutes per mile faster than me, I am a runner. I have other ways of doing this too - buying the expensive workout leggings, for instance - but this is the main one. And it’s helpful because once it’s out there, it would be so embarrassing if I just stopped. My communities are my accountability buddies.
Because I got into running in lockdown #1, there was no real-life community to be found, so my first fitness wingwoman was Jo Whiley, my choice of Couch To 5K coach. I don’t think I have ever met Jo Whiley IRL and I previously felt fairly indifferent to her but for a period of time in spring 2020 it felt like she was my best friend. We would spend quality time together for half an hour three times a week while I put my lockdown troubles (cute pet name for my kids) behind me to drag myself along Waterlink Way.
Once Jo had served her purpose - brutal, but we’ll always have the memories - I quickly embarked on an intense and passionate romance with Coach Bennett from the Nike Run Club app. Sure, I let other coaches into my ears from time to time but it was only moustachioed motivational running guru Coach B and his impressively large selection of audio downloads who I welcomed into my soul and who got me to 10K and beyond. Every run has a purpose, he would reassure me tenderly, always knowing when to give me a boost and when to just shut up and let me get on with it. No awkward silences between me and *googles his actual name* Chris.
These days, I just exercise to music, because I get my accountability kicks elsewhere. I had a brilliant PT turned online coach for a while and currently I’m doing the Fast Fall speed-training programme from a perky run-fluencer called Track Club Babe. It’s perfect for my needs because it comes with a week by week plan (STRUCTURE!) and a private Facebook group (COMMUNITY!).
Right now I’m also the most annoying person in a WhatsApp chat of runners from my kids’ school (we are all doing The Big Half in a few weeks), as well as being mildly active in several fitness-related Facebook groups. And when I couldn’t run last year due to a miserable thing called plantar fasciitis, I felt like sulking at home but forced myself to keep up my parkrun habit by volunteering there instead.
One thing I haven’t done yet is join a real-life running club - partly because they always seem to be in the evening and I only like exerting myself in the morning, and partly because I’m worried about being the shittest at running.
But lots of my friends ask me how I make myself exercise so much, and the answer is basically this: I am an absolute needy loser who thrives on social contact, organised fun and validation from strangers. Try it, it might work for you too.
PS. Less about this newsletter and more on the subject of newsletters in general, I felt massively inspired when I read this New York Times article on how some of the best women’s magazine journalists from when women’s magazines were EVERYTHING are now using platforms like Substack to share their wisdom. There’s a quote in the piece about how newsletters are filling a void for “an older millennial who is not going to be on TikTok and is looking for a bit of authority and a place to go and enjoy that’s not just tap-click-tap-click.”
This older millennial whole-heartedly agrees. Most of the examples in the article are American but some of my absolute faves on here are from legends of British magazine publishing, like
, and especially . Devouring their newsletters every week* feels like reading a much warmer, more revealing editor’s letter and, as a former magazine journalist myself who was never important enough to write an editor’s letter, I’m delighted to be jumping on this bandwagon and providing some filler fitness content to shoe-horn in after the beauty pages.*or whenever they can be bothered to send them when there isn’t a publishing exec hovering around their desk reeking of mid-range aftershave and boozy lunches.
Right, I need to find my exercise thing (beyond loads and loads of walking). Loved this. X