What the Heck is Functional Fitness?

I’ve been walking the dog I inherited from my daughter twice a day, every day—with a few exceptions—since mid-June. It’s now the beginning of October. So, I’ve been going on roughly two-mile walks every day for about three and a half months.

Why? Why do I do this? My daughter didn’t do this. Why should I?

First of all, Tina, the dog, is a Husky. She’s about four years old and has a lot of energy. Watching her zoom around the backyard is fun, but I don’t know. It didn’t seem like it was enough for her. I tried tossing toys to her. She would run after them, but she wouldn’t bring them back.

That was frustrating.

Secondly, after my daughter moved away, Tina was very sad. I’d say she was depressed. She wasn’t eating and barely left her kennel all day. I took her to the vet.

The vet said she needed a routine. Tina needed walks twice a day. The routine and exercise would help with her appetite and her sadness. I didn’t know Huskies were prone to this type of moodiness.

The third reason I’ve kept this up is for my own health and fitness. Tina was just the excuse I needed to get my butt in gear and take care of some of my own health issues.

Which brings me to Functional Fitness.

I have rheumatoid arthritis and diabetes. Can both be made better—or at least easier to manage—by exercising regularly?

My rheumatologist and endocrinologist have both recommended daily movement.

They did not say, “Go to the gym and go hard and heavy.”

But that’s what I always thought exercise was supposed to look like.

“Go lift 50 pounds, three sets of ten.”

“Go do 60 squats holding 10-pound dumbbells.”

“Go run for 45 minutes on a treadmill with the incline set somewhere near the side of a mountain.”

That’s not what they said.

They said move.

And the day I started walking Tina, I did.

Walk. Work on strength. Work on balance and flexibility. Keep my joints moving. Keep my muscles working. Do what my body is capable of doing, and do it consistently.

That was a bit of a revelation for me.

Exercise doesn’t have to leave me exhausted, drenched in sweat, or unable to move the next morning in order to “count.” In fact, with rheumatoid arthritis, beating the daylights out of my joints probably isn’t a particularly brilliant fitness strategy.

What matters is that I keep moving.

And with diabetes, movement has another purpose. When my muscles are working, they use glucose for energy, and regular activity can help my body use insulin more effectively.

So walking Tina counts.

My resistance bands count. My light dumbbells and kettlebells count. My balance exercises count. Chair yoga counts. Gardening counts.

It all counts.

Because I’m beginning to understand that the point of exercise at this stage of my life isn’t to prove how much I can lift, how far I can run, or how miserable I can make myself for 45 minutes.

The point is to make the rest of my life easier.

That is functional fitness.

So, what functions do I want to be able to do?

I want to walk for extended periods of time. I want to stroll for hours up and down the Royal Mile in Edinburgh. I want to hike the Grand Canyon. I want to dally through the tulip markets in Amsterdam. I want to wander through Pike Place Market in Seattle and sample everything.

Yes, EVERYTHING!

I want to be able to put my carry-on in the overhead compartment on a plane. I want to be able to hold my grands and keep up with them. I want to dig, plant, water, pull weeds, and nurture the plants in my garden.

I want to get up off the floor unassisted. I want to walk confidently without fear of falling. I want to reach things on a shelf. I want to climb a ladder when I need to. I want to find things hiding under my bed.

I want to function as a healthy person, not as someone who is dependent on others for every action required for daily living.

I love my functional fitness routine. The twice-daily walks, strength training, and modified yoga work for me…

Until they don’t.

As I’m writing this, I’m sitting at my computer wearing a boot. It’s a big, black, ugly boot on my left foot.

One consequence of any fitness routine is the risk of injury, and boy howdy, did this one sneak up on me.

In my overconfidence, I decided to increase my walking distance by half a mile. The first day was fine. The second day, I felt a twinge in my left heel, and I kept walking. The third day, I could barely put weight on my left foot, and the swelling was significant.

I iced it. I took NSAIDs.

And I walked anyway.

You know, “Work through the pain.”

It didn’t work.

Apparently, I have a stress fracture in my left talus, one of the bones in my ankle. So, no walking for six weeks.

Poor Tina.

I’ll figure something out.

I can still do strength training while sitting. I can still do chair yoga. And I have a solution for cardio: I have a recumbent stationary bicycle.

But, poor Tina.

Tina can zoom around the backyard. I’ll get my kids to walk her when they’re here. It still won’t be the same for her.

Poor Tina.

But doing nothing is not an option.

I have to keep moving so I can keep moving.

Are you functionally fit?

If so, I’m proud of you.

If not, start somewhere. Do something. Do what you can.

Because I don’t want to look back on my life and think:

Could have.

Should have.

Would have.