When I was 35, I kind of reinvented myself. It wasn’t my idea to rupture that ovarian cyst, and it wasn’t really my doctor’s fault when she made that judgment call and decided not to open me up at first. She was trying to be non-invasive, and the odds were my system would take care of the necessary repair itself. My toddler son was certainly not trying to exacerbate the issue when he bounded onto me with loving glee scant days after the laparoscopy. But what with one thing and another the pain and immobility increased, I got severely unwell, and I ended up losing my reproductive organs but keeping my life.

It was a profound experience, all in all, and it left me with at least two conditions: a lifelong aversion to the smell of a hospital and a deep appreciation for automotion. Before then I thought the worst disability (after losing my mind) would be blindness. Not so! I could learn Braille and hear books on tape. That’s when I understood how vital it is for me to be able to move my body where I wish.

As I recovered I began to exercise. I bought a stationary bike and started riding 20 minutes every other night, after dinner. And that’s when part two began. I was married to a very stressed out individual at the time. We were responsible for two offices and four young children, contending with half-crazy exes and a variety of clients, and there was seldom a moment of peace in our household. But every other night I got to retreat to the small study over the driveway, close the door, and spend 20 minutes by myself, reading whatever I wished. It was heavenly. And it wasn’t long before I increased the minutes to 30 and the activity to daily.

I took up regular exercise in gratitude and for perpetuation of my own mobility. I soon learned that it was in no way a punishment; it was in fact a self-indulgence, a method of necessary self-care, almost a luxury. I switched it to the morning, every morning, and added more walking and dancing and other forms of movement to it. I realized that it was a better stress-reliever than vacation, a truer consciousness-alterer than any recreational substance.

That was over a quarter century ago. I now walk for transportation and am in better shape than when I was young. I don’t wish catastrophe on anyone, but I do wish I could find the argument that would convince everyone I love to use their bodies often and well.