By Carolyn A. Fox

Special to Financial Independence Hub

When I started riding my stationary bike about a year ago, I had a vision of what exercise would do for me. I’d become a stronger, healthier person. I’d lose weight. My desk would be tidy and my bookshelves in alphabetical order. I’d be taller. I’d be younger.

That last goal was inspired by a book called Younger Next Year, by Chris Crowley and Henry S. Lodge, MD. They wrote that, although everyone is going to die, years of decrepitude at the end of life are avoidable. There was a way to counteract the relentless decline of aging. Unfortunately, the only way to release the rejuvenating chemical was daily physical exertion.

As a woman of a certain age, I no longer focused on whether exercise would help me look good naked. Instead, my goal was to be able to get to the bathroom by myself well past the age of ninety. Caring for my elderly mother, I learned that being able to drive a car isn’t the key to independent living. It’s being able to get to the potty on your own.

One benefit of the stationary bike was its convenience. On my morning commute from the bedroom to the kitchen, I passed the exercise room and could hop on the bike.

I bought my stationary bicycle second hand for $40. I felt frugal saving thousands of dollars compared to the latest high-end stationary bikes. Those gorgeous new machines had a screen that makes it look like you’re biking in the Tour de France or across Tuscany. Or you could take a virtual spin class with a live instructor.

But what those high-tech bikes couldn’t do was distract me from the fact that I was working out. Exercising wasn’t fun for me. I needed distraction. My riding times improved considerably when I started watching Netflix on my tablet. I wanted to peddle vigorously while catching up on episodes of Capote and The Swans. I wanted to forget that I’m on the bike and just have the minutes tick by.

My goal was to ride for an hour. At first, if I rode fifteen minutes, I was exhausted: breathing hard, awash in perspiration, and rubber-legged my first few steps after climbing down. But I kept increasing my time a few minutes each day.

The hour-long ride eluded me for months. At fifty minutes I’d stop and tell myself that I could have ridden for another ten minutes if I really wanted to. Then I pushed through to fifty-five minutes.

When I finally rode a complete sixty-minute hour, it was a huge victory. I jumped off the bike, pumping my fists over my head as I did the Rocky dance. My cat looked at me like I was nuts.

Elated, I called my cousin to brag. “I biked for an hour today.”

“You did?” she said. “You’re an animal.”

“I’m an animal!” I shouted.

My cat shot me a look that seemed to say, “Leap to the top of the refrigerator, then tell me who’s an animal.” But I was in no mood to yield the field. I had done what the go-getters in spin class dog: I rode for an uninterrupted sixty minutes.

As hour-long rides became my routine, some things changed. I could talk on the phone while I was riding. My recovery time became much shorter. My legs wanted to dance, which could be embarrassing if I was standing in line at the bank.

Things that DIDN’T improve with regular exercise

But my life hadn’t become perfect. Here are a few things that didn’t improve with regular exercise. Continue Reading…