Learning to Move Again:
Or Practicing What You Preach

While planning for my fall 2004 wedding, I made a conscious decision: I was not going to add "lose weight" to my mounting To-Do list. If I had any hope of avoiding the dreaded "Bridezilla" metamorphosis, the stress of dropping pounds while negotiating tent rental contracts and reading "how-to-make-your-own-bouquet" manuals had to be avoided.

And, of course, I was successful. Not only did I avoid losing weight, I nudged up a few digits on the scale. The wedding was the event of my dreams but when the fog of nuptial-planning mania lifted, the photos told the tale of someone who—while deliriously happy—was also in need of a lifestyle shift.

The irony is that I work for an organization that lives and breathes healthy living. Rails-to-Trails Conservancy is, by the simple nature of its name, a place where getting out on trails and embracing an active lifestyle go hand-in-hand with our movement. But in recent years, I've spent more time riding my desk than riding my bike.

After about a year of sulking, I started seeking ways to change. It began with my eating habits, which were in need of an overhaul as it was. Long hours meeting magazine deadlines had translated into unthinking, quick lunches eaten over the keyboard coupled with an inordinate number of peppermint patties and creamy lattes. So I joined Weight Watchers; realized I was eating enough fuel to power me and two teenage cross-country runners; and the scale began its patient numerical decent.

But something crucial was missing. My shrinking waistline, sadly, had no impact on my diminished lung capacity or wiggly thighs. The time had come to do what I dreaded most—exercise. Again, I sulked.

Around this time, Rails-to-Trails Conservancy embarked on a redesign of our magazine. I started going over back issues and perusing the pages for elements I wanted to enhance in the new look of Rails to Trails. This meant I also ended up reading a slew of past articles heralding the benefits of trails. Health kept rising to the top—environmental health, economic health and, yes, plain old health health. Accessibility to trails can make an incredible difference in the public and personal health of a community. I already knew this. I already believed this. After all, I was the one who wrote half those articles. It seemed more than just the magazine needed a redesign.

Looking back, it was my light-bulb moment. I accepted that if I was going to make good on my lifestyle change, it would have to include more than gym-rat status and counting points. I needed a new outlook on how I get around; how I move my body on a daily basis.

I have to consider myself lucky. Living in the Washington, D.C.-metro area, I have a host of great trails at my disposal. I'm on target with RTC's goal of being within three miles of a trail system.

So in addition to committing to walk from the metro more often than wheedle a lift from my husband, I started to replace shorter car trips with walking and biking. Instead of driving the half-mile to the store, I decided to walk when the shopping list was light. And I began using my local rail-trail on weekends to run leisurely errands, as well as connect to my county parks and even more trails.

None of these changes were monumental. You wouldn't be blown away by my pedometer readings or per/mile speed. I'm not suddenly a brave, city-street bike commuter. And our IT director would disapprovingly tell you I still get crumbs in my keyboard.
What I am, simply put, is healthier—and by extension, happier. I don't get as winded on the stairs anymore. I feel stronger when I help our development department haul displays for rail-trail events. I see the muscles in my thighs. (No, really—just seeing them again is a treat!)

And most surprisingly of all, though perhaps only to me, is that putting all this energy into being active has made me want to expend more energy…being active. This could be the summer I actually join an intramural soccer team or hike the highest peak in Shenandoah National Park, instead of just talking about it.

If this all has to come down to a moral (and what personal essay would be complete without one) it would be something like this:

By making these incremental alternations in my daily life and by choosing to use my feet more and my car less, I started down a path I thought I was already on. I truly became part of the RTC movement because I began actually moving.

Jennifer Kaleba is editor-in-chief of Rails to Trails magazine. When not harassing coworkers about adherence to AP Style, she can be found trying to coax her cats onto the College Park Trolley Trail. She feels cats have been underrepresented on rail-trails in relation to dogs, and aims to fix that.