My Fitness Journey: Learning to Grow, Let Go, and Find What Fits

For most of my life, fitness was just part of who I was.

In grade school and high school, it came naturally through sports. My body was something I used—to run faster, to compete harder, to be part of something bigger than myself. I didn’t overthink it. I didn’t analyze it. I just moved.

But when I went to college at Michigan State University, everything changed.

For the first time, no one was telling me when to show up for practice. Movement became a choice. And like so many college students, I chose cardio. Lots of it. The treadmill became my safe space. The elliptical. The stationary bike. I even spent a year on the crew team, learning what it meant to push through discomfort in a completely different way.

I fell in love with cycling then, too.

Long rides where my thoughts could wander and my legs could just go. It was freedom.

But if I’m honest, I was chasing something without realizing it. I thought smaller was better. I thought more cardio was the answer.

I still remember the first time I ran four miles straight. I was exhausted, proud, and honestly shocked that I could do it. On my walk home, I decided to reward myself by buying new K-cups for my coffee maker. It sounds insignificant now, but at the time it felt like proof: I was becoming someone stronger.

What I didn’t realize yet was how much stronger I was about to become.

Grad school was the turning point.

Between 2012 and 2015, something shifted—not just physically, but mentally.

I stopped being afraid of eating more. I stopped believing that cardio was the only path. I started lifting weights.

At first, it was uncomfortable. I didn’t know what I was doing. I felt out of place. But slowly, my body began to change.

For the first time in my life, I built real muscle.

My shoulders became defined. My legs became powerful. And yes—my glutes grew.

A lot.

I remember looking in the mirror and seeing curves and strength where there had once been straight lines and softness. I felt strong in a way that cardio had never given me. Not just smaller. Not just tired.

Strong.

I was eating more than I ever had before, and instead of feeling guilty, I felt fueled.

That version of me ran an ultramarathon. She did CrossFit. She signed up for triathlons just to see if she could. She chased challenges because she wasn’t afraid of what her body could do anymore.

Fitness wasn’t about shrinking. It was about growing.

And that mindset stayed with me, even as my life kept evolving.

Over the years, I found new communities and new challenges. Classes at Orangetheory Fitness, barre3, and eventually Solidcore. Each one came in a different season of my life. Each one served a different purpose.

Then 2020 happened.

Like millions of other people, I brought fitness home and bought a Peloton bike. It became more than just a workout. It became consistency in a time when nothing else felt consistent. We eventually added the Tread and the Rower, and they’ve become part of the rhythm of our home.

But the biggest change wasn’t the equipment.

It was me.

Because I’m not that grad school girl anymore. The one chasing muscle and miles and finish lines.

I’m a mom now. My time isn’t mine in the same way it used to be. My energy is shared. My priorities are different.

And for a while, I struggled with that.

I missed the version of myself who had hours to spend in the gym. Who could train for anything she wanted. Who built her schedule around workouts instead of fitting workouts into the margins.

But slowly, I realized something important.

Fitness didn’t have to look like it used to in order to still matter.

Now, it looks like 5:15am Solidcore classes. It looks like showing up before the rest of my house wakes up. It looks like choosing workouts that challenge me but don’t break me. It looks like Peloton rides squeezed in when I can.

It looks like doing what fits.

Not what impresses people.

Not what I used to do.

Not what someone else says I should do.

What fits my life.

What fits my body.

What fits this season.

There was a time when I was proud of myself for running four miles and buying K-cups to celebrate.

There was a time when I was proud of myself for building muscle and growing into a stronger version of myself.

And now, I’m proud of myself for simply continuing to show up.

For letting my fitness journey evolve.

For understanding that strength isn’t defined by miles or muscles—but by consistency.

By grace.

By continuing.

Because fitness has given me so much over the years.

But the greatest thing it’s given me…

…is the ability to grow into every version of myself I was meant to become.