Well, folks, I survived my first day back at the gym after almost four months. My Apple Watch thought I’d been abducted because it hasn’t seen this kind of activity since May. My body feels crazy good, my soul feels reawakened, but my hammies are already filing for divorce.

Short version—I feel AH-mazing!  I’m in it to win it. Endorphins are free, and I’ll be taking a double order, please.

But the long version? Whew. Sit down. (Actually, don’t—my legs don’t want company.)

Here’s the truth:

• I have a long, messy relationship with the gym. I ghost it, then come crawling back like a toxic ex. I whisper, “This time it’s different,” while clutching a protein shake like it’s a love letter.
• My goals? Ever-changing. Sometimes it’s, “I just want to be healthy for my family.” Other times, it’s, “Put me in sparkly heels and let me flex on stage at an over-50 competition.” Spoiler—I own neither sparkly heels nor stage confidence.
• Comfort is my drug of choice. My porch, my coffee, my stretchy pants—chef’s kiss. The gym? That’s my chaotic side hustle. And yet, I can’t help but love it. There’s nothing like the drama of dramatically dropping a dumbbell that wasn’t even that heavy.

Walking back in today felt like the first day of school. Do I look like I belong here? Will I remember how to work the machines, or will I end up on a YouTube fail compilation? Spoiler—I didn’t make any viral mistakes, but I did have to change out the barbell for one much, much lighter—and let me tell you, nothing humbles you faster than realizing you are not, in fact, Superwoman on Day One. Classic me.

My brain was throwing out excuses the entire drive: “We could just go tomorrow instead. You have more important things to do. Isn’t scrolling Pinterest technically cardio for your thumbs?” But my body? My body was like, “Ma’am, we’ve been waiting. Let’s sweat.” And once I got moving, it was like riding a bike… except the bike was on fire, my thighs were screaming, and I was questioning all my life choices.

But here’s the kicker—today didn’t feel like just another fling. It felt like a reunion. Like I walked in and the squat rack whispered, “Welcome back, drama queen.”

So yeah, I’m calling it now. This time, I’m sticking with it. Will I ever compete in that bedazzled bikini competition? Probably not. But will I at least make it past week three without “forgetting” my gym shoes? Stay tuned.

For now, I’ll be over here treating these sore muscles like they’re my medal of honor. Somebody please clap.

👟 One rep at a time (and one iced coffee in hand),

Natalie