Before Fitness Had a Name

By Sheetal Patil

I never learned to be active. It was just always there - woven into my days like school, homework, and climbing mango trees in summer.

Growing up, movement wasn’t something we planned. It wasn’t called “fitness” or “exercise.” It didn’t need scheduling or apps or wearables or external accountability, it was life. We didn’t do it to burn calories or to be fit - we just didn’t want to miss out on the fun.

And I think that’s what stayed with me: the feeling.

It started at home - quietly, consistently

My first memories of movement don’t come from a coach or a sports day. They come from my parents. In the 80’s when I was just starting school, we had moved to the Suburbs of Mumbai (Bombay) where transportation was still limited. If the buses were running late or were too crowded to enter, they would just easily take off walking the 3 kms to the railway station.

During summer vacations, against our will, my father used to wake my brother and me up as he used to get ready for work and ask us to go for a run. On some days I would go out jog, some days walk and on quite a few days I would hide in the neighbouring building, watch for his scooter to pass by and then head back home to sleep (guess even then I intuitively knew rest days are important!!)

Playing daily was compulsory. Even today, as I work from home, which my mother feels is too stationary - an automatic command comes in from her in the evenings to go walk in the building compound, even if I have ran 30+ km in the morning!

There was no fitness philosophy in our house, no grand ideology. But now when I look back, that regular, unglamorous, everyday movement built a foundation far stronger than any workout routine ever could.

School shaped me without trying to

I was lucky. My school gave me space to move. Not just a dusty PT ground, but permission. By no means was I a star athlete or anything. I just loved being out there. I loved running races - yes, but I loved the games more. Lagori, dodgeball, football during the PT breaks were amazing.

Bharatanatyam was a subject we had to pass (boys and girls). I loved the movements but could never remember names of the mudras. I was probably the only one who was excited for the 10th grade…because that meant we no longer had to pass the Yoga exam which was compulsory for us till the 9th grade! For the life of me, I still cannot sit in Padmasana. Not every movement comes with a good memory, but in the long run each experience has shaped me for the better.

I had PE teachers who actually cared, not just sat in the shade. And I had classmates who made movement feel like play, not competition. It was never about performance - it was about presence. That hour of sweating and laughing and jumping made me feel alive. And that feeling stuck.

Even now, when I run, I’m chasing that. Not speed. Not stats. Just that lightness I used to feel tearing across a school field.

Friends who moved me (literally)

Some of my closest friendships were built in motion. My school used to divide students into different houses to promote team activities. I was really good at the 50 and 100 m sprints and bring a medal in for my house, but used to just fizzle out at any distance beyond that. My house had the strongest distance running team, and at one of the sports meets they were falling short of 1 girl. They approached me to join the race, advised me to walk - run, and that I could still have a chance to help bring all 3 medals for our house…and we definitely did! That race was the beginning of multiple shenanigans and wins together.

As we grew older, we competed less, but the habit stayed. I had friends who were into sports, others who danced, some who just walked everywhere. But none of us were still. It taught me that being active wasn’t just something you do - it’s something you share. And when movement becomes social, it sticks.

Movement was never a fix - it was familiar

My childhood in 1980s-90s Mumbai gave me more than great memories - it provided a blueprint for lifelong movement that prioritizes joy, connection, and intrinsic motivation over external metrics.

Putting in my best efforts to beat other coaches at Tug of war

Playing lemon and spoon - students and professors of the Kinesiology department - movement science at it’s best!

In a fitness landscape increasingly dominated by optimization and quantification, these simple lessons from gully cricket games and building compound races may be more valuable than ever. Our bodies were designed to move, but perhaps more importantly, they were designed to find pleasure in that movement - a truth I learned not from studying exercise physiology, but from being a child free to play in the streets of Mumbai.

Not everyone has the same experience

I know how lucky I was. I had the space, the freedom, the safety, and the encouragement - subtle, not loud. I had parents who didn’t overthink it, teachers who didn’t kill the joy, and friends who showed up to play.But I’ve worked with people who didn’t have that. Girls who were told to stay inside. Kids who were told they were “not athletic” early on and carried that label forever. Adults who associate movement as a task, not joy.

And it breaks my heart. Because I know they would’ve loved it - if they’d been allowed to.

As a coach it’s my turn to pass it on

These days, when I talk to clients or even just watch the next generation, I think about how we shape someone’s relationship with movement without even realizing it.

As parents, we do not have to sign our children up for every sport or buy the best equipment’s. We need to normalize movement. Walk as a family, let children get muddy, let them climb, jump, crawl, fall. Don’t rush to correct them during play.

Schools need to prioritize play not just for medals, but for the mindset. Praise the child who wins in sports but also the one who just enjoys the rhythm of a skipping rope. Don’t reward only the fastest, celebrate the most joyful.

And for us, the adults? It’s not too late. Start by moving the way you did when you were a child. Not to track progress or calories, but to rediscover joy. Sometimes, the best fitness habit is just remembering what it felt like to run just because you wanted to.

That’s how it was for me. And that’s why, even on the busiest, most stressful days - when motivation is low and energy is drained, I still find my way back to movement. Not out of discipline, but out of instinct.

The 10-year-old in me still leads the way. And honestly - she’s got it right.

I hope reading this blog brought back memories of play, of running free, of a time when movement just felt good. If you have drifted from that place, I’d love to help you find your way back through sweat, stretch, and a little mischief, just like the old days! Come find your rhythm again with Netrin.