How I Stopped Tindering My Fitness
A Sedentary Lawyer's Journey to Lifelong Fitness
By Eliza Jiang, co-founder, FLYE Fitness
There I was again, on a cool early January morning strutting into treadmills room of the gym, starry-eyed thinking to myself, "this is the week! I will stick to a routine this time - I will be 'someone who works out '". This is the same feeling of hopefulness when the tall, blue-eyed Tinder guy told me he was hooked on the same economics podcasts as me, "Hmm, this guy has potential!".
This excitement faded as I suffer through yet another run on the treadmill, panting and staring down the painstakingly slow calories counter. I would scan the room, catch myself in the mirror with a blank look and drenched in sweat under the pale fluorescent lights. In the mirror's reflection, I notice the other zombie-like people being equally tortured by the machines, cringing, fighting for breath, and agonizing over the seconds on the machines' timers.
By week four, I was making excuses (anything!) to get me out of having to go back to that torture room with the zombies. "Work is too busy. I have too much going on right now. I just have other things I need to focus on." Sound familiar? These are the same excuses we use to cut it off with Tinder prospects we lose interest in (maybe the cute, blue-eyed podcast-loving nerd voted for Trump) -- you know, the stuff we say to get out of something that is not a priority.
I went on a hiatus after giving up and rationalized it by telling myself that "I am thin, I've got the Asian genes and won't get fat anyway", ignoring the abundance of "skinny-fat" women (including me) who were neither healthy nor fit.
A couple of months later, I was seduced by an Instagram ad of a fitness app "guaranteeing" a bikini body in 30 days. 30 days of painful rep-counting of squat, lunges, crunches later, I had lost about four pounds and some tricep fat (a far cry from the bikini body I was promised). But even with encouraging signs of change, I reverted to my comfort sedentary zone after the 30 days.
What was wrong with me? Why couldn't I make any of these habits last? This is déjà vu of the same self-doubt when short-lived Tinder connections don't work out. But how could they if the intention is set in their profiles as "looking for something casual", or "seeing what's out there". It is this same lack of intention and commitment that dooms fitness fads promising short-term gratification.
If I wanted fitness to be a lifestyle, I had to set a clear intention to build lifelong habits. This is impossible with the "no pain, no gain" philosophy. I cannot endure a lifetime of pain everytime I work out. Who could (or wants to)? The narrative had to change: why couldn't I have joy and also gain?
Joy like when I am shaking every cell in my body on a night out dancing, or raving at a music festival to syncopated, rhythmic beats. It is no secret that these activities activate brain pathways that produce and release feel-good and trust-boosting neurochemicals (namely, dopamine, oxytocin, serotonin, and endorphins).
This joy transcends beyond my want to look a certain way to feeling a certain way. A lot of these Tinderesque fitness plans for women focus on aesthetics (e.g. "say bye bye to excess tummy fat") rather than lasting behavioural change. That is the problem. Aren't we more likely to go on repeat dates with Tinder guys with whom we feel a deeper-than-physical connection?
Wouldn't a daily dose of the festive party mood trigger a healthy addiction? It did for me. This is why I co-created FLYE, so other women can get hooked on fitness that makes us feel good first and foremost. The feelings of joy, freedom, and empowerment are evoked by blurring the lines between aerobics and a full out, festive, raving dance party with pulsating lights, and even a live DJ.
With FLYE, the exercise is incidental to the joy. It so happens that the moves are choreographed to maintain the aerobic intensity to build a stronger heart, torch body fat, and sculpt legs and glutes. The music and choreography are curated from genres around the world so we I don’t think about the workout -- I just flow through the movements to the beats of the music, let the neuro-chemistry happen, and lose track of time.
It took me about 2 months to get into the habit of doing FLYE about 5 times a week. I was adhering to it even during my busiest days (billing >12 hours). It was a release through which I got to break out of my shell, strip off emotionally to let it all hang. I have done the routines on the verge of tears when I had lost my grandma, only to emerge feeling uplifted and stronger.
I had also lost 7% body fat to the point that I could see those elusive abs that the IG ads promise without having to do a million crunches -- turns out, it is all about the cardio! My improving my cardio endurance shot up my energy levels and stamina, essential for the life of an anaemic lawyer. Those feel-good brain juices also improved my mood and positive attitude, also essential for the disputes attorney that I am.
To ensure maximum adherence in times of protests and pandemic, FLYE has now developed a 2-month online program with daily cardio parties to embark other busy professional women in their lifelong fitness journey. The backend of the plan has a carefully researched guide and tracking tool to take the guess-work out of the equation. I just click on the class of the day and follow.
Eighteen months in, I am still FLYEing at least 5 times a week -- I have even used it as a gateway "drug" to running (which I used to hate). I found (and founded) lifelong fitness based on the crazy idea that we can only stick with something we truly enjoy doing. No more fitness flings for me. I am done Tindering my fitness.
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To try FLYE's all access VOD platform (7 day free trial, cancel anytime): https://flyefitness.uscreen.io/catalog
To try one of FLYE's virtual, live stream, or in studio classes, book here: https://www.flyefitnessasia.com/schedule