Once upon a time, I was that person. You know, the one who woke up at 5:00 a.m., threw on matching workout gear, and was front and center at 6 a.m. spin class. My water bottle had inspirational quotes. My playlists were carefully curated to get me through two-a-day workouts. I even ran a 10k at seven months pregnant, feeling like some kind of superhero as my belly led the way.
But now? Now, I’m the person who considers carrying a toddler on one hip and a car seat in the other my workout. And don’t even get me started on my current cardio—chasing a preschooler who thinks “tag” is a 24/7 sport.
Getting back to the gym after all that feels like a comedy of errors. It’s like my body remembers the glory days but conveniently forgot how much actual effort went into achieving them.
Where It All Went Wrong (Or Right?)
If I had to pinpoint when I fell off the fitness wagon, it was somewhere between sleepless nights with a newborn and convincing myself that a handful of Goldfish crackers counted as lunch. Life happened. Kids happened. And honestly? Sitting on the couch with a pint of dairy-free ice cream felt a lot more appealing than a plank hold.
It wasn’t just laziness, though. It was exhaustion. Being a mom, a wife, full time in the military, and a photographer in the making took every ounce of energy I had. The idea of adding one more thing—even something I used to love—just felt impossible.
The Great Gym Return
But recently, I decided enough was enough. It wasn’t just about fitting into my pre-baby jeans (though, let’s be real, that’s part of it). It was about feeling like myself again—the version of me who could crush a workout and still have energy to tackle the day.
So, I dusted off my sneakers, dug my old gym bag out of the closet, and made a commitment: I was going back.
The first day was… humbling. I walked into the gym like a long-lost tourist. Machines that I used to know inside and out suddenly looked like alien spacecraft. I climbed onto the treadmill, hit “quick start,” and immediately regretted all my life choices as I tried to jog for more than two minutes.
And don’t even get me started on the weights. I used to deadlift more than my body weight. Now? Lifting the barbell without weights felt like an Olympic feat.
The Emotional Struggle
The hardest part of getting back into the gym wasn’t the physical pain (though, yes, my legs did feel like Jell-O for a solid three days after). It was the mental battle.
There’s this voice in your head that says, “You should be better than this.” It reminds you of all the PRs you used to hit, all the miles you used to run, all the classes you used to dominate. And it’s hard not to compare yourself to the person you used to be.
But here’s the thing: that person didn’t have two kids. That person wasn’t navigating sleepless nights and diaper blowouts and toddler tantrums. That person wasn’t juggling work and life and everything in between. That person had time—so much time.
Now, my time is limited, my energy is spread thin, and my priorities have shifted. But that doesn’t mean I can’t still show up for myself.
Finding My New Groove
These days, my workouts look a little different. There are no two-a-days. No 10ks at dawn. No meticulously tracked macros. Instead, there’s a 30-minute workout squeezed in during nap time or a quick gym session after work if the stars align. And that’s okay.
Getting back into the gym isn’t about being the person I was before. It’s about showing up as the person I am now—a mom, a wife, a leader, and a very tired but determined woman who refuses to give up on herself.
Celebrating the Wins
The other day, I did a full workout without stopping to catch my breath. Last week, I upped my dumbbell weights for the first time since restarting. These might seem like small wins, but to me, they’re huge.
I’m learning to celebrate progress, not perfection. I’m learning to embrace the messiness of this season of life. And I’m learning that it’s okay to be a beginner again.
So, if you’re also trying to get back into the gym, here’s my advice: start small, give yourself grace, and don’t compare yourself to who you were before. You’re stronger than you think—even if “strong” right now looks like doing push-ups on your knees or walking instead of running.
And hey, if I can do it, anyone can. Just don’t ask me to wake up for a 6 a.m. spin class. Some things are better left in the past.
Pumps & Panic 