For many, the gym represents a perplexing paradox: a place of both dread and desire. It’s where bright lights and mirrored walls can either amplify self-consciousness or ignite a profound sense of purpose. For decades, my relationship with fitness was defined by the former, driven by an elusive quest for thinness. But a series of life-altering challenges finally forced a pivotal question: why I stopped trying to shrink myself and instead chose to build strength, transforming my entire outlook on health and well-being.
My journey into fitness began as a coping mechanism. At seventeen, reeling from the loss of my grandmother, I found solace in running. Miles upon miles of pavement pounding became my escape, a silent sanctuary where grief could be processed in motion. This wasn't just a phase; it evolved into a decades-long pursuit, culminating in two marathons, numerous half marathons, and countless other races.
The Elusive Pursuit of Thinness
As the miles accumulated, I noticed an unintended side effect: weight loss. Growing up in the nineties and early 2000s, society's message was clear – endless cardio and minimal food were the keys to being “fit.” The prevailing aesthetic was “heroin chic,” prioritizing a waif-like figure over genuine health. As a former chubby teen, the attention I received from being smaller felt like a win. This was the dangerous mental trap I fell into, a pattern that would define why I stopped trying to listen to my body's true needs, instead creating a mindset built on severe restriction rather than resilience.
This era cemented a flawed understanding of nutrition and metabolism. I genuinely believed that a diet of bread and diet Coke could sustain a young woman, severely underestimating the importance of quality macronutrients. I remember countless school dances where the 'cool' girls boasted about surviving on a single apple, reinforcing the dangerous notion that deprivation was the path to belonging. This pervasive narrative, coupled with years of undereating and overtraining, eventually left my metabolism compromised and my body constantly inflamed and fatigued (Mayo Clinic, 2023).
Life's Unforeseen Resistance
Fast-forward thirty years, and life had added its beautiful, chaotic layers: multiple pregnancies, demanding jobs, college, and the endless responsibilities of family life. The weight, which once seemed to effortlessly slide off, now clung stubbornly. Each pregnancy left its mark, and the cumulative stress of work, raising children, and managing a busy household only exacerbated my exhaustion. My body was tired, hungry, and inflamed, yet I unfairly blamed myself for not pushing harder.
Then came the curveballs that truly tested my previous approach to fitness. A grueling nine-month battle with histoplasmosis left me utterly depleted, making even basic existence a monumental effort. Later, an ankle fracture sidelined me for months – likely not from a single horse bucking me off, but rather the cumulative stress of years of undernourishment and chronic strain on my skeletal system. It was a profound realization of why I stopped trying to force my body into old molds and started to understand its current demands.
The ankle injury coincided with the holidays, a perfect storm of immobility and festive indulgences. Just as I began to recover, a thyroidectomy following a cancer diagnosis added another layer of complexity. Through it all, I tried to stay active, but it often felt like merely going through the motions. I'd mimic influencers doing light weights and high reps for “toning,” falling prey to the seductive but ultimately misleading promise of quick fixes. The running that once saved me became a source of dread, impossible to enjoy when my body felt like it was fighting against itself.
Discovering the Power of Strength
Eventually, I reached a breaking point. Observing my husband, who had been consistently lifting weights and prioritizing protein for years without the same struggles (and, admittedly, without experiencing four pregnancies), sparked a crucial question. Maybe what I’d been missing wasn’t motivation, but muscle. And I mean actual muscle, built with substantial weights, not the five-pound pink dumbbells I'd been told were sufficient.
I humbled myself, dove into research, and began the challenging process of unlearning decades of misinformation. The truth was liberating: the 'gym bros' were onto something. Lifting heavy doesn't inherently make you bulky; the 'bulk' most of us fear is often fat covering underdeveloped muscle. Building genuine strength, I discovered, sculpts shape, cultivates confidence, and unlocks incredible power, without necessarily adding unwanted size (Harvard, 2024). This meant consciously acknowledging why I stopped trying to adhere to restrictive diets and embracing nourishing foods as fuel.
Walking back into a gym with this new mindset still felt awkward. That familiar whisper of self-doubt, 'Maybe you don’t know what you’re doing,' tried to creep in. I had to silence it. After a few sessions, my body began to remember its capabilities. The hardest part wasn't the physical exertion, but the mental paradigm shift. For thirty years, I believed I had to be smaller. Now, I was learning to be stronger. One particularly frustrating morning, after yet another failed attempt at a 'light' cardio session, I scrolled past an influencer promoting 'detox teas' for rapid weight loss – a stark reminder of the pervasive, unhelpful advice I was trying to unlearn.
Redefining Resilience and Well-being
Eating to build muscle felt counterintuitive after decades of restriction, but it was essential. To gain muscle, you must properly fuel your body with real, wholesome food – not diet soda and low-fat everything. It required trusting the process and letting go of the fear of the scale. Some days I still nail it, and others I fall short, but the difference now is grace. Growth takes time, and true strength is built one rep and one nourishing meal at a time, a stark contrast to the unrealistic promises of being 'shredded in twenty-one days.'
Now, lifting heavy things makes me feel powerful, not punished. It's no longer about chasing an arbitrary number on the scale or squeezing into my twenty-year-old jeans. It’s about showing up for myself, proving I can do hard things, and understanding that resistance – both in the gym and in life – is what truly builds character. Ultimately, it became clear why I stopped trying to achieve an external ideal and began investing in my internal resilience.
The gym has transformed into a place of peace, motivation, and escape, much like running once was. But critically, I am now building my body instead of tearing it down. This holistic approach has profoundly improved my mental, physical, emotional, and spiritual well-being. It is all interconnected, and I am immensely thankful for daring to try something different.
As Arnold Schwarzenegger wisely said, “The resistance that you fight physically in the gym and the resistance that you fight in life can only build a strong character.” My journey is a testament to this truth. Sometimes, transformation begins the moment you decide to pick up the weight – both literally and metaphorically – and refuse to put it down.
