Praise for The Joy of Movement
“In this outstanding contribution to the science of well-being, Kelly McGonigal has written a fascinating book on the complex links between physical movement, mental health, and prosocial behavior. Beautifully written and brimming with historical reflections and modern scientific findings, this is a book to savor.”
—Paul Gilbert, PhD, OBE, author of The Compassionate Mind; Mindful Compassion; and Overcoming Depression
“The Joy of Movement will be required reading for athletes of all types, from professionals to people starting their first walking programs. Kelly McGonigal’s empathy shines through the stories and research, providing a jolt of energy that will make any reader feel like the athlete they are. We aren’t sure what was more fun—sitting down and reading the book, or putting it down and moving with big smiles.”
—Megan Roche, MD, and David Roche, authors of The Happy Runner
“The Joy of Movement illuminates why we feel most alive when in motion, and how exercise builds social connections, both while we’re working out and during the many hours a day we’re not.”
—Scott Douglas, author of Running Is My Therapy
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Copyright © 2019 by Kelly McGonigal, Ph.D.
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ISBN 9780525534105 (hardcover)
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Neither the publisher nor the author is engaged in rendering professional advice or services to the individual reader. The ideas, procedures, and suggestions contained in this book are not intended as a substitute for consulting with your physician. All matters regarding your health require medical supervision. Neither the author nor the publisher shall be liable or responsible for any loss or damage allegedly arising from any information or suggestion in this book.
This book explores the psychological and social benefits of movement. It is not intended to offer individual advice or medical guidance. Although I discuss the potential psychological benefits of movement, this does not imply that exercise is a replacement for other treatments, therapies, or approaches for mental or physical health that you might be currently using or considering. Before beginning any new exercise program or physical activity, seek the advice of your physician or current health-care providers. I also recommend that you seek professional guidance and/or community support for any new physical goal, such as training for an athletic event. When setting physical goals and exploring different ways of moving, take into consideration your current abilities, health, and life circumstances.
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To all the movement instructors who have inspired me, and to all those who have moved with me in classes over the years, thank you for sharing the joy.
CONTENTS
Praise for The Joy of Movement
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Introduction
CHAPTER 1
The Persistence High
CHAPTER 2
Getting Hooked
CHAPTER 3
Collective Joy
CHAPTER 4
Let Yourself Be Moved
CHAPTER 5
Overcoming Obstacles
CHAPTER 6
Embrace Life
CHAPTER 7
How We Endure
Final Thoughts
Author’s Note on Sources
Acknowledgments
Notes
Index
About the Author
INTRODUCTION
There are very few memories I can look back on and say with certainty, “That was a moment my life changed.” One of them took place when I was twenty-two. I was a graduate student in psychology and enrolled in a seminar called The Psychology of Shyness. I had always been a shy kid, and I continued to struggle with anxiety. Our project for the course was to take action on something that was important to us but that we had avoided out of fear or self-doubt. I chose to pursue my lifelong dream of becoming a group exercise instructor. I had grown up doing workout videos in my living room. While other kids fantasized about becoming the next Sally Ride or Steven Spielberg, I imagined myself leading a room full of people in step-touches and jumping jacks. In high school, I studied both Spanish and French because I had read that you needed to speak three languages to teach aerobics at a Club Med resort.
Now I found myself standing outside an exercise studio on campus, minutes away from auditioning to teach for the aerobics program. Despite having practiced for so many hours that I could perform the choreography in my sleep, familiar sensations of panic flooded my system. I felt sick to my stomach. My fingernails dug into my palms. This mattered so much to me, I thought my heart was going to burst. I was overcome by the desire to rescue myself from my escalating anxiety. To just walk away, go back to my apartment, and pretend the whole thing never happened.
I remember this moment clearly, standing outside the studio, wanting to run—but choosing to stay. Maybe you’ve had a moment like this, too—a turning point where you said yes to something that you both dreamed about and were terrified by. Looking back, I think one of the reasons I stayed was everything I had learned about courage from my favorite forms of exercise. From yoga, I had learned how to take a deep breath and stretch beyond my comfort zone. From dance, I had learned that no matter how worried and discouraged I felt at the beginning of class, the music and movement would transport me to a state of optimism. And from my toughest cardio workouts, I had learned that a pounding heart is not always a sign of fear. Sometimes, it is proof that your heart is being strengthened.
The decision to stay and audition changed my life because it set me on the path of teaching group exercise. In the nearly two decades since, teaching has become a source of tremendous joy and meaning. Over the years, I saw again and again how movement could shift a person’s mood. How it could send someone back into the world renewed with hope. I got to witness how exercise could empower participants to sense their own strength, or give them permission to let loose. As I taught individuals of all ages and varied physical abilities, I learned how movement could serve so many roles. It was a way to practice self-care, an opportunity to tackle challenges, and a place to make friends. Many of the classes I taught turned into communities that not only moved together, but also supported and celebrated one another. In these classes, I learned what collective joy feels like, in both the synchrony of our steps and in the group hugs when a participant returned after a long absence. Leading group exercise was so fulfilling that I never stopped. It wasn’t just the satisfaction of sharing the joy of movement that kept me going; it was also how movement helped me. Exercise has, at various times in my life, rescued me from isolation and despair, fostered courage and hope, reminded me how to experience joy, and given me a place to belong.
Mine is not an uncommon story. Around the world, people who are physically active are happier and more satisfied with their lives. This is true whether their preferred activity is walking, running, swimming, dancing, biking, playing sports, lifting weights, or practicing yoga. People who are regularly active have a stronger sense of purpose, and they experience more gratitude, love, and hope. They feel more connected to their communitie
s, and are less likely to suffer from loneliness or become depressed. These benefits are seen throughout the lifespan. They apply to every socioeconomic strata and appear to be culturally universal. Importantly, the psychological and social benefits of physical activity do not depend on any particular physical ability or health status. They have been demonstrated in people with chronic pain, physical disabilities, serious mental and physical illnesses, and even among patients in hospice care. The joys described above—from hope and meaning to belonging—are linked first and foremost to movement, not to fitness.
The question of how physical activity contributes to human happiness is the central focus of this book. I started by scouring the science, skipping the countless surveys that show that people who exercise are happier, and searching instead for studies and theories that could shed light on why. I pored through academic papers in fields as wide-ranging as neuroscience, paleontology, and musicology. I talked to anthropologists, psychologists, and physiologists. I interviewed athletes and exercise professionals. I visited places where people move together—gyms, dance studios, parks, even an aircraft carrier. I devoured memoirs and studied ethnographies to better understand the role that movement has played across cultures and history. I expanded my search to include the writings of philosophers and religious scholars. I downloaded podcasts and joined groups on social media. I reached out to friends, family, and strangers, and asked them to share their experiences of movement. After nearly every one of these interviews, I found myself relistening to some part of the recorded conversation. Not just to check my notes, but because I wanted to hear their stories again. Many of the individuals I spoke with were brought to tears as they explained what movement meant to them. By the third time I found myself typing, “She teared up while telling me about this,” I realized: These were tears of joy, and the joy of movement is moving.
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One of the first things I discovered is that the most common explanation for why exercise makes us happy is far too simplistic. The psychological effects of movement cannot be reduced to an endorphin rush. Physical activity influences many other brain chemicals, including those that give you energy, alleviate worry, and help you bond with others. It reduces inflammation in the brain, which over time can protect against depression, anxiety, and loneliness. Regular exercise also remodels the physical structure of your brain to make you more receptive to joy and social connection. These neurological changes rival those observed in the most cutting-edge treatments for both depression and addiction. The mind-altering effects of exercise are even embedded in your musculature. During physical activity, muscles secrete hormones into your bloodstream that make your brain more resilient to stress. Scientists call them “hope molecules.”
Looking at the evidence, it’s hard not to conclude that our entire physiology was engineered to reward us for moving. But why would human biology be so finely tuned to encourage us to be active? A reasonable first guess might have to do with the health benefits of exercise. Perhaps the brain is looking out for the body, making sure we stay active enough to ward off a heart attack. Yet this notion takes too brief a historical perspective on the value of physical activity to human survival. Your doctor might encourage you to exercise to better control your blood sugar, lower your blood pressure, or reduce your risk of cancer. But for most of human existence, the central purpose of movement was not to prevent disease. Physical activity was how we engaged with life. As neuroscientist Daniel Wolpert writes, “The entire purpose of the human brain is to produce movement. Movement is the only way we have of interacting with the world.” This is why our biology includes so many ways to reward moving. At the most fundamental level, rewarding movement is how your brain and body encourage you to participate in life. If you are willing to move, your muscles will give you hope. Your brain will orchestrate pleasure. And your entire physiology will adjust to help you find the energy, purpose, and courage you need to keep going.
There is also a more complex story to tell about why movement is rewarding—one that emerges from the psychology of human happiness. Human beings are hardwired to take pleasure in the activities, experiences, and mental states that help us survive. This goes beyond the obvious practical matters, such as eating and sleeping, to include many of the psychological traits that define us as humans. We enjoy cooperating and find teamwork fulfilling. We delight in making progress and take pride in what we contribute. We form attachments to people, places, and communities, and we experience a warm glow when we care for them. Even our ability to find meaning in life is rooted in the neurobiology of pleasure: stories and metaphors captivate the brain’s reward system, encouraging us to craft narratives that help us make sense of our lives. Human beings do not need to re-create these habits of happiness with each new generation. These instincts are buried in our DNA and spring to life in each of us, as fundamental to our survival as the abilities to breathe, digest food, and pump blood to our muscles.
Physical activity—whether through exercise, exploration, competition, or celebration—makes us happier because it stimulates these instincts. Movement is intertwined with some of the most basic human joys, including self-expression, social connection, and mastery. When we are active, we access innate pleasures, from the satisfaction of synchronizing to the beat of music to the sensory thrill of moving with speed, grace, or power. Movement can also fulfill core human needs, such as the desires to connect with nature or to feel a part of something bigger than yourself. The physical pastimes we are most drawn to seem uniquely devised to harness our individual strengths—the abilities to persist, endure, learn, and grow—while simultaneously rousing our instincts to work together. When physical activity is most psychologically fulfilling, it’s because our participation both reveals the good in us and lets us witness the good in others. This is one reason every culture puts movement at the heart of its most joyous and meaningful traditions. As philosopher Doug Anderson observed, “Movement has the power to bring us fully to what is most human about us.”
* * *
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As I investigated the many links between movement and happiness, this book became, by necessity, an exploration of what is most human about us. It is the only way to understand the joys of movement. And perhaps more than anything else, what I was reminded of is that human happiness flourishes in community. Human beings evolved as social creatures, and we need one another to survive. Throughout human history, movement—whether labor, ritual, or play—has helped us to connect, collaborate, and celebrate. Today, physical activity continues to draw us together and remind us how much we need one another. This was something of a revelation—how much the individual psychological benefits of physical activity rely on our social nature. How so much of the joy of movement is actually the joy of connection.
When I started writing this book, I thought it would be a self-help guide, explaining how to find happiness through exercise. It turned out to be something bigger: a love letter to movement in all its forms and also to human nature. In some strange and wonderful way, working on this book has had the same elevating effect on me as movement itself. It has given me a feeling of hope and fellowship. More than once after I finished talking to someone for the project, I said out loud, “I love humans. People are incredible.” I think this was something my heart needed as much as it needs any cardiovascular exercise. Maybe it’s something you need, too. If so, I hope that reading this book will give you a bit of what writing it has provided me. I hope that this book will encourage you to rethink why movement matters. I hope it will inspire you to move in ways that bring you joy and meaning. And I hope that at some point you will put this book down with a heart that is full. That you will find yourself thinking, How marvelous, how miraculous, we humans can be.
Chapter 1
THE PERSISTENCE HIGH
The runner’s high is often held up as a lure for reluctant exercisers, described in terms that strain credulity. In 1855, Scot
tish philosopher Alexander Bain described the pleasure of a fast walk or run as “a species of mechanical intoxication” that produces an exhilaration akin to the ancient ecstatic worship of Bacchus, the Roman god of wine. In his memoir Footnotes, cultural historian Vybarr Cregan-Reid also likens his highs to inebriation. “They are as strong as bootleg whisky. They make you want to stop everyone that you pass and tell them how beautiful they are, what a wonderful world this is, isn’t it great to be alive?” Trail runner and triathlete Scott Dunlap sums up his running high this way: “I would equate it to two Red Bulls and vodka, three ibuprofen, plus a $50 winning Lotto ticket in your pocket.”
While many runners favor comparisons to intoxicants, others liken the high to a spiritual experience. In The Runner’s High, Dan Sturn describes tears streaming down his face during mile seven of his morning jog. “I flew closer and closer to the place mystics and shamans and acidheads all try to describe. Each moment became precious. I felt simultaneously all alone and completely connected.” Still others draw parallels not to alcohol or religion, but to love. On a Reddit forum dedicated to explaining what the runner’s high feels like, one user posted, “I love what I’m doing and love everyone I see.” Another offered, “It’s like when you fancy someone and they tell you that they like you too.” Ultrarunner Stephanie Case describes her midrun glow this way: “I feel connected to the people around me, the loved ones in my life, and I’m infinitely positive about the future.”
While runners have a reputation for praising the exercise high, the side effect is not exclusive to running. A similar bliss can be found in any sustained physical activity, whether that’s hiking, swimming, cycling, dancing, or yoga. However, the high emerges only after a significant effort. It seems to be the brain’s way of rewarding you for working hard. Why does such a reward exist? And more important, why would it make you feel loving?
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