December 30, 2025

I hadn’t been to the gym in a long time.
Longer than I wanted to admit.
Longer than my body remembered.

This morning, my alarm went off at 4:30 AM.
I pumped. I got dressed. I showed up early — fifteen quiet minutes before a 5:30 class — and scanned in knowing exactly where I stood.

Not where I used to be.
Not where I’m going.
Just where I am.

The workout on the board was called Fresh Start.

Three rounds.
Runs. Push-ups. A barbell.

Simple on paper. Honest in practice.

I scaled — without hesitation and without apology.
And it was rough.

But somewhere mid-workout, a thought surprised me.
Not frustration. Not doubt.

This won’t be long before this feels like a cakewalk.

Not because it was easy —
but because I know what consistency does.
I know what showing up quietly builds.

The Way I Met the Workout

The runs didn’t stay runs.

For my scale, they became rows — steady pulls instead of pounding pavement.
Still effort. Still breath. Still forward motion.

My push-ups were from my knees, on the floor.
Not hidden. Not rushed. Not something to apologize for.
Just what my body could give — honestly and fully.

And the barbell?

There was weight on it.

Not a lot.
Not what it once was.
But enough to matter.

Enough to remind me that strength doesn’t disappear — it adapts.

My time was 12:22. Scaled.

And I felt proud of myself.

What a Cakewalk Really Is

A cakewalk isn’t just a phrase.

It’s an old game.
You walk in a circle while the music plays.
When it stops, wherever you’re standing — that’s what you win.
A cake. You take it home.

No racing.
No forcing.
Just staying in motion until the moment comes.

And that’s when it clicked.

This season isn’t about crushing workouts.
It’s about walking the circle again.
Letting rhythm return.
Trusting that strength remembers — even when it’s been resting.

Grace Isn’t Letting Myself Off the Hook. It’s Telling the Truth.

I keep catching myself saying I “fell off the wagon.”

And maybe I did.

But when I fell, I was very pregnant.
And then I was postpartum.

That’s not an excuse.
That’s reality.

There’s a difference between abandoning something
and being changed by life.

My body didn’t stop showing up — it showed up differently.
It shifted its priorities.
It did something far more demanding than training consistency.

Grace isn’t indulgence.
It’s accuracy.

Ready Isn’t the Same as Able

I stopped going to the gym in mid-September.

Myles was born at the beginning of October — and everything shifted.

Around three weeks postpartum, I started saying I felt ready to go back.
Not physically — but mentally.
I missed the rhythm. I missed the space. I missed the version of myself that shows up there.

When I was medically cleared in mid-November, I thought that might be the moment.

It wasn’t.

Even once I was allowed to return, my body still needed help remembering how to move.

Getting up and down was slow.
An entire day of cleaning left me deeply sore — the kind of soreness that reminds you how much your body has been through.

So instead of forcing myself back into workouts, I spent the following weeks rebuilding movement where I already was:

organizing and carrying
climbing ladders to reach cupboards
getting down on the floor and back up again
moving intentionally through everyday life

Not glamorous.
Not tracked.
But necessary.

That work — the quiet, functional kind — is what made this morning possible.

Returning wasn’t just about wanting it.
Or being cleared for it.

It was about giving my body enough support to say yes.

And there is wisdom in that kind of waiting.

What the Waiting Gave Me

I don’t regret the time it took to be ready.

Not the extra weeks.
Not the slower return.
Not the rebuilding that happened outside the gym.

Because that space gave me something I wouldn’t trade.

It gave me time to bond with my sweet baby, Myles —
to hold him without rushing,
to learn his rhythms,
to let my body heal while my heart expanded.

There were long hours spent sitting, rocking, resting.
Days where strength looked like presence instead of effort.

The patience I practiced wasn’t lost time.
It was investment.

When I finally walked back into the gym, I didn’t come empty-handed.
I came grounded.
Rooted.
More whole than if I had forced my way back sooner.

Moving Forward With Wisdom

I’m choosing wisdom in this season — and in all that it will hold.

Wisdom to know the difference between desire and readiness.
Wisdom to scale without shame.
Wisdom to let healing take the time it needs.
Wisdom to trust that consistency doesn’t require punishment.

One day, not far from now, this workout — or one like it — will feel easier.
Lighter.
Like walking instead of grinding.

And when that day comes, it won’t erase this one.

It will exist because of it.

When the music stopped,
this was the cake I took home.

Fresh Start Isn’t a Slogan. It’s a Moment You Choose.