Working From Home: What Do You Feel in Your Body?

There’s something about working from home that might look so relaxing from the outside. No waking up early in the morning, no commute, no crowded public transportation transport.

This is what I also thought, and experienced, back in 2019. At that time, I was living in Bern while my office was in Lausanne. That meant two hours of commuting each way, each day. Four hours of changing from tram to train to tram. I felt very lucky when my request to work from home on Wednesdays, to break the week, was exceptionally accepted.

And yet, slowly, when my working from home was extended for an unknown period of time during the pandemic, like many others, I felt the pattern of: Bed. Kitchen. Desk. Sofa.

A whole working day could pass without really moving in our two rooms apartment in Mutachstrasse.

When I first noticed it, it wasn’t dramatic. However, slowly, my low back pain was coming back. And that was my body telling me that I need to do something about it.

I remember finding a walking programme from the 90s that got reuploaded on YouTube and became popular again during the pandemic. I started doing it in the afternoon, after finishing my working day. It served as a gentle transition, a way to break the bed–kitchen–desk–sofa pattern. The cheerfulness of the instructor and the participants helped put my mind at ease for a while, and my back pain slowly went away.

When the world started opening up again, I moved to Italy and switched to permanent remote work. I knew I should keep moving my body, but in reality, I stopped participating in the online walking programme. It felt like too much of a reminder of lockdown days that I didn’t want to revisit. I considered starting a new activity, such as going to the gym, pilates, or swimming --- all three were feasible because the facilities are within walking distance of my new place. But in the end, I didn’t do any exercise at all.

Instead, I have a new routine: Every morning, I bring my son to school, either on foot or by bus. On the way back, I walk fast. because I need to start my working day. I’m walking fast because I don’t want to waste time. I’m walking fast, passing people who are slowly starting their morning… passing the café in the neighbourhood where some parents stop after dropping their children off, sitting for a while. They look so relaxed while I’m rushing.

I want to go inside too. To have a warm cappuccino, a croissant, and a glass of fresh orange juice. To say hello, start a small conversation with my basic Italian, and make some new friends. But no, I tell myself, I need to keep walking fast to get home quickly.

And in those moments, my thoughts make everything feel heavier than it really is.

Until recently, I came across an article on BBC News about something called vigorous intermittent lifestyle physical activity (VILPA). According to Mark Hamer, professor of sport and exercise medicine at University College London, VILPA simply means doing everyday activities with slightly more intensity. The aim is to raise your heart rate, just for one or two minutes at a time. This can be achieved by brisk walking, climbing stairs, or carrying groceries. His research shows that even these small moments can have meaningful benefits for long-term health.

Reading it shifted something in me. What I had been seeing as rushing, as pressure, as something driven by urgency, could also be seen differently. Not as something extra I needed to add to my life, but as something already there. I just need to make it in my mind as something that counts: I’m not rushing back to work. I’m taking care of my health. The action is exactly the same. The meaning is different.

And to me, I notice that difference matters.

Because when I see it as rushing, it feels like pressure. When I see it as care, it feels aligned. Aligned with the kind of life I say I want to live. If I value health, if I value longevity, if I value being present and energised, then this fast walk is a small, yet significant, part of the life I’m building.

Working from home makes it very easy to drift into a sedentary life without consciously choosing it. It’s not laziness. It’s the structure. It’s the convenience. It’s the absence of friction.

What would it look like if we chose to build small movements into our days not as productivity hacks, but as expressions of our values?

So, for me right now, it’s a brisk walk home. A transition between roles. Nothing extreme. Just a small daily decision that says: this matters too.

How does your body feel during your working day?

What do you notice?

Have you found ways, big or small, to take care of it?

And when you move, is it driven by “should”, or does it feel aligned with something you value?