Getting "high" on exercise?

"Enjoy those endorphins!"

That was how Dan S., the physical therapy assistant who guided my warm-water exercises, signed off on his response to a follow-up query in March 2017. After asking him about using flippers for lap-swimming (he said yes), I reported how much pleasure I got from my time in the water -- pleasure that often rose to the level of joy.

Fifteen months later, the same is still true.

I've never had a bad swim. Not once. Not even on that April day a year ago, when my knee pain flared up, with a vengeance, as I exited the therapy pool; I went back in the water for a little while, and it helped. 

I guess I'm one of the lucky people who feels the release of endorphins when I work out. My husband says he doesn't notice any endorphin effects when he exerts himself. Not everybody does.

But does my joyous sensation arising from exercise come entirely from the opioid-like hormones that my body generates when I put it to work?

I don't think so.

For one thing, it doesn't feel to me like a "high." It's more like focused peace.

I can go into the water feeling anxious about the deadlines, conflicts and challenges that await me after I pack up my swim bag and exit the locker room. After a few laps with my flippers, or a session of "riding the seahorse" (in the warm water, with pool noodles), I've moved from nail-biting or hand-wringing to strategizing how I will resolve whatever crisis awaits me.

Once, when I was a reporter on faith-and-values topics for a secular newspaper, I covered a story about contemplative prayer through walking in a labyrinth. One of the Dominican sisters at the labyrinth site suggested I try it -- and I did, with no particular expectations. I found that the process of walking the path mindfully, and focusing my mind on the winding journey toward the center, did connect me with the Divine and offer me peace. Over the years since then, Jay and I have sought out opportunities to pray in a labyrinth. Jay, who doesn't experience endorphins, and I, who do, are a couple of left-brain Lutherans who have discovered the joy of right-brain prayer.

When I started warm-water therapy, it took me about 10 minutes to notice the similarities between the labyrinth and mindful, intentional movement through the water. 

Even when I'm not consciously addressing God -- when I'm counting my laps or my reps, or when I'm reminding myself to take a breath and blow it out in the water -- I sense God's presence with me, and God's work on my soul as well as my body.

Maybe this experience is entirely chemical. Maybe it comes solely from the morphine-like hormone that my body produces naturally when I exert myself.

Maybe. But I don't think so.