So… it’s been a month since I’ve stepped foot in a gym. (Cue dramatic music.) And before anyone gasps and clutches their protein shake, let me just say—it’s not for lack of excuses. Oh, I have plenty. Are they good ones? Meh, they exist. Let’s not get too judgey.

First, there was a pinched nerve in my back—because apparently, I sleep like a 97-year-old pirate. Then came vacation (blissful but interruptive), followed by the annual back-to-school chaos, complete with missing lunch boxes, new staff at work, and the usual August emotional rollercoaster. And by the time the workday ends? Let’s just say the only thing I want to lift is my dinner plate and maybe my feet onto the couch.

But despite my gym ghosting, I haven’t completely fallen off the movement wagon. Yoga and I are still going steady, and I’ll admit, I’m actually kind of proud of that. It’s not the high-intensity, sweat-drenched hustle I used to do, but it is movement—and more importantly, it feels good. And that, I’m learning, is a win in itself.

For most of my life, I’ve had one speed: all in, full blast, no brakes. Whether it’s fitness, hosting gatherings, or organizing anything, I go hard… until I crash. Then I disappear into a recovery cocoon for, oh, about a week (or three). It’s the classic yo-yo effect—enthusiasm followed by exhaustion. Sound familiar? Yeah, I thought so.

To anyone reading this who’s ever quit something because they couldn’t keep up the exact same pace they started with: I see you. I am you. And I’m calling both of us out (lovingly). Because the truth is, you don’t need to go hard every single time. Sometimes, “just showing up” counts. Heck, sometimes just thinking about showing up should earn us a medal.

This week, I’m easing back into the gym. I’m not trying to break records or do anything extreme. I’ll be there, probably with mismatched socks and a strong desire to go home mid-warm-up, but I’ll be there. And that’s what matters. Life is too unpredictable to expect perfect consistency. Schedules shift. Bodies need rest. Energy dips. And Google may say it takes 66 days to form a habit, but in my world, it takes about five days to break one—six if I’m really disciplined.

But here’s the deal: I’m done chasing perfection. I don’t even think it exists (and if it does, it’s probably too exhausted to show up on time anyway). What I do believe in is progress. In giving what I can, when I can. In waking up and choosing, every day, to be just a little bit better than I was yesterday—whether that’s doing five squats or just drinking enough water to not feel like a dehydrated raisin.

Life is messy. It’s chaotic. It rarely feels “balanced”—more like a seesaw that someone’s toddler is jumping on at random. But balance isn’t about everything being equal all the time. Sometimes, it’s about letting things slide without guilt. Other times, it’s about showing up even when you’d rather not.

So here’s to the wobble. To falling off and climbing back on. To yoga today and gym tomorrow. To doing what we can, when we can, and learning to be okay with the in-between.

Cheers to starting over (again). And again. And again.

And for those of you wondering, I am going to be sore tomorrow😉😂