I'm thankful for the parents who taught me to embrace fitness (and forget about competition)

I'm thankful for the parents who taught me to embrace fitness (and forget about competition)

On the days I don't move, I feel it. Sure, there are times when I don't want to work out - when I dread the mere thought of swapping the couch for the yoga mat. But most of the time I wake up craving fresh air and miles or the high of a spin class. I enjoy exercise.

Recently, I realized that I largely owe my habit of (and passion for) exercise to my parents.

When I was growing up, my mother and I would jog various laps around our small neighborhood. Eventually I learned them by heart, visiting them alone after long days at school or, in later years, on trips home. In every city I’ve lived in – New York City; Bethlehem, PA; Boston – I created my own running routes upon arrival and revisited them after work or on weekend mornings (including my honeymoon in Tuscany).

My father taught me how to throw a soccer ball, he swam with us in the ocean, he coached our youth soccer teams. In high school, when I realized that basketball — and coordination and fast-twitch muscles — weren't my thing (read: pinched fingers), my parents encouraged me to coach my younger sister's indoor soccer team; to start our own indoor hockey league with friends. I've done both. I enjoyed both.

Today, visits to both of my parents are often linked to fitness. My dad and I regularly run a 4-mile loop along the Charles River in Boston; My mother and I attend studio classes.

I know people for whom exercise was more of a necessity growing up, something they were told to do just because of how they looked. I have other friends whose parents pushed them to be the best, to win the game, to play Division I sports, to compete. There's nothing wrong with that - or working to look a certain way, or being competitive. (Sometimes I wish I had more of a competitive spirit or drive to *finally* work toward six-pack abs.) Everyone has their own reasons for moving, and everyone is different. Additionally, excelling at something and achieving goals – and learning this from an early age – can help build motivation.

But I've also found the opposite: sometimes, when exercise and sports are about winning, when they're about training to be the best, when they're about extrinsic motivation, sometimes it can lose its appeal when the structures of school dissipate and adulthood rears its head.

My parents never “forced” sports on me. My mother never commented on the outcome of a high school field hockey game (although she attended every game). She never mentioned my half marathon time (but she was at the finish line of my first one in Bermuda). She taught me by example the power that a morning jog has on the next 10 hours of your day – and 10 years of your life.

My dad never suggested I play sports in college (but he took me to meet with college coaches when I flirted with the idea). He was behind me in the decision - not the one who pushed it forward. Through gaming, he also taught me that fitness doesn't always have to be something that happens in a gym. Sometimes a swim, a walk or a bike ride is enough - especially if you're having fun.

My brother played Division I hockey in college, my sister plays club soccer in college, and I write about health and fitness for a living. The morning of my wedding, my siblings and I drove to the beach where I was getting married later that day and walked a 2-mile stretch of sand together.

I am not a parent. And I'm in no way saying that what my parents did is the "right" way to do things. But I think I benefited from it. The way my parents approached fitness also influences my outlook on raising children one day - especially considering I'm married to a fiercely competitive former Division I athlete (there's that competitiveness I've been missing!). However, conveying intrinsic motivation to other people sounds like a pretty damn difficult thing. So personally, I couldn't be more grateful, especially at this time of year.

I'm running a 10K turkey trot on Thanksgiving morning. It is my calm, my release for the day, my energy before the mad sprint. My parents won't be at the finish line - but they are one of the main reasons I'll be at the start line.