Finding the Spark: Why Nutrition Needs Science and Soul

How creativity and connection can transform your health journey.

This year, my resolution is to carve out more space for creativity—not just in my personal life, but in how I approach nutrition coaching. You might be wondering, “What does creativity have to do with nutrition? Isn’t it all about counting macros and creating meal plans?” Not in the slightest! It took me a couple decades to get my competitive head around that, but in reality, true health isn’t just about nutrition facts and meal plans—it’s about connection, flexibility, and finding joy in the way we nourish ourselves.

Without room for new ideas and a little freedom to explore, even the most well-crafted plan can start to feel like a chore.

I’ve lived through the extremes of strict dieting and high-performance training. But being at my athletic peak meant that I weighed and measured practically everything I ate, became a walking encyclopedia of nutrition facts, and could eyeball the macro content of someone else’s meal at the other end of the table. Yea, I was super fun to hang out with in those days.

Getting wild on vacation with... a big salad.

I was not a nutrition coach at that point in my life, but I was constantly being asked for advice about what to eat. I remember feeling embarrassed to answer because it forced me to admit how completely obsessive I had become about food.

Despite my own commitment to “the perfect diet”, I was very aware of how unrealistic (and undesirable) my routine was: no bread, rice, grains, or other processed carbohydrates, and no cheat days. Keep a daily food journal and always make sure you calculate the carb:protein:fat ratio at every meal. These were just a few of the many rules I lived by.

The only reason I was able to live like this was because back then I was young, highly motivated, and kidless. It was all science and no art. I wasn’t interested in living a balanced life, or a life much beyond the gym walls at all. I was driven by the thrill of competition and the satisfaction of being laser-focused… but it couldn’t last forever.

So what do you do when you realize the identity you’ve worked so hard to create, is not sustainable? When it’s time to shed one layer to make space for something new—but you’re not sure who you are without it?

I used to think having kids was what changed everything. But now I see it’s simply moving from one decade to the next—kids or not—that brings seismic shifts in our priorities, perspectives, and physical abilities. I might still want to train and eat like I did in my 20s, but life has more than competition for me now.

The rigid rules and restrictions that once made me feel strong and in control started to feel draining. Instead of building me up, I realized they were chipping away at the parts of my life that matter most.

Embracing a less competitive side of health & fitness.

This is why when most of us try to follow traditional diets without any creativity, flexibility, or nuance—we fail. But it’s easier for companies to sell a meal plan at scale than it is to take the time to understand the complex life of an individual and offer something meaningful and truly transformative.

Despite how many times I’m asked for meal plans, I know that most people aren’t looking for another set of rigid rules. They want guidance that feels human, flexible, and real. When I think about what I know about nutrition, and how I feel about nutrition, it never ceases to amaze me how much tension exists between the two.

What I know is how to track what I eat and how to consume the calories and nutrients that will support optimal performance and longevity. What I feel is that food should be enjoyed and support my active life without taking up so much time and mental space that I’m unable to focus on the things I care about and the people who need me.

Sometimes I get stuck on my younger self’s definition of healthy - crushing workouts, flawless eating, never quitting. It’s exhausting trying to live up to a version of myself that no longer fits. I’ve gone through some depressing phases of life when I’ve had to confront the fact that my body can’t do what it used to.

I finally let go of the idea of “bouncing back”—because back to what, exactly? Now I’m thinking about how I see myself living out the next decade of life. How does that young, competitive version of myself show up in the future? She has to evolve or she’s going to kill me!

And this, in my opinion, is where things get interesting. This is where things get real—the place where we find the push and pull. I love the old me, but I can’t take all of her with me. It’s like rubbing two sticks together that eventually create the spark, and that is the catalyst for change.

Writing is my way of rubbing sticks together. Where’s the conflict? What do we want and not want at the same time? What is everyone feeling, but unable to put into words?

Can I find the words? Can I encourage you to create your own spark?

That’s the kind of coach I want to be. I don’t want to be standing on the sidelines with a can of gasoline. I want to be crouched down next to you in a pile of dirt, digging through the brush until we find the right sticks.

Where’s the friction? That’s the question. That’s where we start.

When I write about my own experiences, it helps me process and understand how complex our relationships with health truly are. So, part of my work this year is to tell more stories—not just mine, but stories that reflect the ups and downs of health, balance be damned. Because nutrition isn’t just about the science behind what we eat; it’s about the art of how we live. And maybe this year, we can make space for both.

Thank you for reading! I truly appreciate your time and I hope something I said woke something in you. If it did, I’d love to hear from you. You can reply to this post or find me on instagram @fitsisterofficial

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