I Used To Smoke. I Used To Drink.
I used to smoke.
I used to drink.
And I really liked to smoke when I drank.
Those two things went together beautifully.
Until they didn’t need each other anymore.
Then I just smoked.
I smoked when I drank. I smoked when I didn’t drink. I smoked with coffee. I smoked because I was bored. I smoked because that’s what I did.
And here’s the really fucked up part.
I have always worked out.
Always.
I smoked before I worked out.
I smoked after I worked out.
I’d do something good for my heart and lungs and then walk outside and light a cigarette.
Make that make sense.
Except at the time, it did.
Because that’s the thing about health that I don’t think we talk about enough.
It isn’t nearly as black and white as we like to make it.
The Menthol Did It for Me
I was introduced to smoking really young.
Both of my parents smoked.
Cigarettes were just there. They were part of the scenery of my childhood.
When my sister and I were maybe nine or ten, we’d leave the babysitter’s and go to our house to sneak cigarettes.
And even then, I had preferences.
I made sure my sister got the no-filter fuckers that dad smoked. Pall Mall. That red package – no filters.
I wanted the menthols that mom smoked. Benson & Hedges Menthol Light 100s.
LOL.
Apparently I was a tiny cigarette connoisseur.
But here’s the weird thing.
Even that young, I remember thinking there was something about smoking that I could get addicted to.
I liked it.
Especially the menthol.
There was a pull there.
Of course, kid me wasn’t thinking about nicotine addiction or cardiovascular disease or any of the shit adult me knows now.
Smoking was normal.
The adults around me did it.
So eventually, I did too. Even though I swore I never would.
And I smoked for years.
But I Was “Healthy”
Or at least I did healthy things.
I exercised.
I’ve always loved moving my body.
That part of me existed right alongside the smoker.
That’s what I find so interesting when I look back now.
There wasn’t an Unhealthy Peggie who one day disappeared and was replaced by Healthy Peggie.
It would make a much cleaner story if there were. So crazy.
BEFORE.
AFTER.
Throw an arrow between the two, add an inspirational quote and call it transformation.
Except that’s not what happened.
I was working out while I smoked.
I cared about my body while I smoked.
I wanted to be strong while I smoked.
I was doing things that supported my health while simultaneously doing something that absolutely did not. At all.
Both things were true.
Because humans are fucking complicated.
We want to categorize people.
Healthy.
Unhealthy.
Disciplined.
Undisciplined.
Takes care of herself.
Doesn’t take care of herself.
But most of us are walking contradictions.
You can work out five days a week and smoke.
You can eat vegetables and drink too much.
You can lift weights and sleep like shit.
You can care deeply about your health and still have habits that don’t match the person you think you want to be.
That doesn’t mean you’re a fraud.
It means you’re a human being who hasn’t changed that particular thing yet.
Then Things Started Changing
I quit smoking about 25 years ago.
That’s a long fucking time when I stop and think about it.
And quitting smoking was huge.
But I didn’t quit smoking and suddenly transform into some glowing beacon of perfect health.
I still drank.
For years.
I exercised.
I ate pretty well.
I did a lot of things we would put in the HEALTHY column.
And I drank.
Sometimes more than I should have.
Sometimes a lot more.
There were plenty of years when alcohol was simply part of my life.
Until eventually I started questioning that too.
Not immediately.
Not because someone told me I should.
Not because I suddenly became enlightened.
It took time.
Then in 2018, I quit drinking.
Another version of me changed.
Apparently I Took the Scenic Fucking Route
I didn’t wake up one morning and decide,
Today I shall become healthy.
Apparently, I took the scenic fucking route.
And I’m really glad I did.
Because now when I work with people who want to change everything RIGHT FUCKING NOW, I understand the impulse.
They want to lose the weight.
Fix their food.
Start exercising.
Drink the water.
Get eight hours of sleep.
Stop drinking.
Stop eating sugar.
Hit their steps.
Meditate.
Meal prep.
Take the supplements.
Become an entirely different human by next Tuesday.
And when they can’t do all of it at once, they decide they’re failing.
But when I look at my own life, that’s not how any of my biggest changes happened.
My health evolved.
I evolved.
One thing changed.
Then another.
Sometimes there were years between them.
And while all of that was happening, there were probably things I was doing really well and other things that made absolutely no fucking sense.
Cigarette before the workout, anyone?
We Give Ourselves So Little Room to Evolve
I think that’s what bothers me about the way we talk about health now.
There’s so much pressure to get it all right.
Eat this way.
Don’t eat that.
Train this many days.
Get this many steps.
Sleep this much.
Don’t drink.
Don’t smoke.
Don’t sit too long.
Manage your stress.
And for fuck’s sake, don’t forget your protein.
I believe in taking care of your health.
Obviously.
But I also believe people need some room to become.
Because maybe you’re doing five things right now that are making your life better and one thing that you know probably needs to change.
Maybe you know.
Maybe you’ve known for a long fucking time.
Knowing and being ready aren’t always the same thing.
That doesn’t mean we bullshit ourselves forever.
At some point, if something isn’t working for you, you have to decide what you’re going to do about it.
But change doesn’t always arrive on the day you first recognize you need it.
Sometimes recognizing it is the beginning.
I Don’t Regret the Old Versions of Me
This might be the biggest thing.
I’m not embarrassed by the woman who smoked.
I’m not ashamed of the woman who drank.
I’m not interested in standing here now and judging her with information, experience and perspective she didn’t have yet.
She was me. Flaws and all.
And she was already doing some pretty good shit.
She exercised.
She loved being strong.
She moved her body.
She cared about herself.
And yes, sometimes she finished a workout and lit a fucking cigarette.
Two things can be true.
Eventually she quit smoking.
Years later, she quit drinking.
She learned more.
She wanted different things.
She changed.
I changed.
And I’m Still Changing
That’s probably the biggest realization of all.
I’m 62 years old, and I don’t think I’ve arrived at some final version of health. It’s for life.
Thank God.
Because how boring would that be?
What health means to me now isn’t what it meant when I was 30.
It isn’t even what it meant when I was 50.
How I train has changed.
How I eat has changed.
How I think about my body has changed.
How I think about aging has changed.
What I’m willing to do to my body has changed.
And what I’m willing to do for my body has changed.
There wasn’t one big transformation.
There have been hundreds of little ones.
Quitting smoking was one.
Quitting drinking was another.
There were countless decisions before those and countless decisions after.
And there will be more. There will always be more.
Maybe that’s the part of health we need to give ourselves more credit for.
We’re allowed to evolve.
We’re allowed to look at something we’ve done for five years, ten years or twenty years and say,
Fuck this noise. I don’t want this anymore.
We’re allowed to outgrow habits.
We’re allowed to change our minds.
We’re allowed to become someone who does things differently without hating the person who did them before.
And we don’t have to change every fucking thing today.
We just have to be willing to keep paying attention.
Because health isn’t someplace I finally arrived.
It’s something I’ve kept changing my mind about.
And I have a feeling I’m not done yet.