The Real Luxury Is Being Able to Move Your Body

Neva Roenne
2 days ago
3 min read

The real luxury is being able to move your body and exercise.

Not the boutique gym membership.

Not the matching set.

Not the watch that tracks your splits.

The luxury is the movement itself.

There are people who would give anything to lace up shoes and go for a run. People who would trade everything to lift their arms without pain. People sitting in hospital rooms wishing they could feel their lungs burn during a sprint or their legs shake under a heavy set.

And here we are, calling it a chore.

Somewhere along the way, we started treating exercise like punishment.

“I have to work out.”

“I need to burn this off.”

“I was bad this weekend.”

No.

Moving your body is not a consequence for existing. It is not payment for eating. It is not a sentence handed down because you want to look good in photos.

It is an opportunity.

It is a privilege.

It is proof that you are alive.

You get one body. Just one.

Not a replacement. Not a backup. Not a newer model in ten years. This is the only physical vessel you will ever inhabit on this side of heaven.

The same hands you have now will hold your children one day. The same knees you have now will carry you into old age. The same heart beating in your chest right now is the one that will carry you through every season of your life.

You don’t get another one.

So why wouldn’t we care for it with intention?

Scripture says, “Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit?” (1 Corinthians 6:19). For a long time, I heard that verse in a shame-filled way. Like it was about restriction. About what not to do.

Now I hear it differently.

Temple doesn’t mean fragile. It means sacred.

It means something entrusted to you.

If my body is a temple, then caring for it isn’t vanity. It’s stewardship. It’s gratitude. It’s reverence for the life God breathed into me.

I don’t train because I hate my body. I train because I want to keep it strong for as long as I possibly can.

I want to be eighty and able to get off the floor without help.

I want to carry my own groceries.

I want to hike mountains with my kids and their kids and their kids one day.

I want to avoid the slow creep of preventable pain.

I want to run toward life, not away from it.

There was a time when my workouts were fueled by insecurity. By comparison. By trying to shrink myself into something more acceptable.

Now?

They are fueled by gratitude and responsibility.

My body has carried me through heartbreak.

Through moving away from everything familiar.

Through four years of insanely intense college athletic training in one of the most demanding sports humans can do.

Through long runs that felt impossible at mile five.

Through 5:00 a.m. alarms.

Through seasons where I felt lost and seasons where I felt on fire.

The least I can do is take care of it.

When I lift heavier than I used to, it’s not about proving something.It’s about preservation.

When I run further than I thought I could, it’s not about punishment.It’s about potential.

When I meal prep, stretch, sleep, hydrate, and commit to consistency, it’s not obsession.It’s respect.

Discipline is not punishment. Discipline is self-respect.

And the funny thing is, the stronger I get physically, the softer I get emotionally. Movement humbles you. It teaches patience. It reminds you that progress takes time. That consistency beats intensity. That you can do hard things without being hard on yourself.

Exercise has become one of the most honest mirrors in my life. It shows me when I’m distracted. When I’m present. When I’m committed. When I’m coasting.

And every single time I finish a workout, I leave grateful.

Grateful that my legs work.

Grateful that my lungs expand.

Grateful that my heart beats strong.

Grateful that I get another day in this body.

The real luxury isn’t looking a certain way.

It’s being able to move at all.

So I don’t drag myself to the gym anymore. I go willingly. I go gratefully. I go knowing that this body is a gift, not a guarantee.

This is the way.

Move because you can.

Train because you’re able.

Care for your body because it is the only one you will ever have.