Maybe It's Not the Workout
Every so often, a stranger will spot me in Whole Foods and assume that any woman with visible deltoids comparing the fiber content of barley and millet must possess some ancient wellness wisdom. They approach wide-eyed and optimistic, hoping I'm about to reveal the one thing that's been standing between them and the results they've been chasing.
The question is almost always some version of:
“What’s the best workout?”
You would not believe the look of disappointment that cascades across their face when I reply with some version of:
“Lift heavy weights and eat a balanced diet.”
And even though it’s true, I get why the person standing in front of me looks like they want to smack me across the face. I kind wanna smack me too.
Science gives us information, but in the context of real life, information alone doesn’t guarantee outcomes. There are too many variables that no study (nor random coach in the aisles of Whole Foods) can fully account for.
A study cannot account for your personality, your history, your relationships, your schedule, your fears, your values, and the kinds of spaces that pull you in versus the ones that make you feel out of place.
So if you have a sneaking suspicion that the transformation you’re looking for probably goes deeper than progressive overload and daily step count, read on.
Because maybe the real game changer isn’t finding the perfect workout or recipe. Maybe it’s finding something, someone, or somewhere that makes you want to keep coming back.
It took me a long time to realize that.
I didn't fully understand the power of belonging until I transferred the contents of my beloved SoCal apartment into an SUV and tearfully hugged my friends goodbye. I was off to get married and start a life in Miami with my new husband. We had each other. But we left our entire community behind.
I had loved that life in L.A., especially the friendships I formed in my twenties. The kind that develop after being released into the world from the confines of a college campus, when everyone feels uniquely hopeful, creative, wild, and free. In a city of 3.8 million, I had found my tribe. I belonged. And it felt as perfect and effortless as a breezy beach dress and a California tan.
Had it not been for Miami’s eternal sunshine and water so electric-blue it hurts your eyes, the move could have been the beginning of a very dark time.
But alone in a beautiful city is still alone. There’s probably a fine line between depression and productive introspection. Luckily I leaned into the latter, determined to find my cozy corner of another sprawling city.
I started by doing something I had always liked: running. As I ran down Lincoln Rd. to the South Beach Boardwalk day after day, my mind would wander. I thought about my friends and what they were doing in L.A. (which made me sad). So eventually I started thinking about what I might want to do in Miami.
Years earlier, I had toyed with the idea of doing a triathlon, but I never acted on it. I was too intimidated, too inexperienced, too comfortable where I was. There was a want, but really no need.
But now, thousands of miles from my old life as a newlywed with no friends and no social life, I felt the need. It was time to do the one thing I had been avoiding and finally let this tiny seed of a goal take root.
I didn’t own a bike and I didn’t have any swimming experience (unless you count my brief stint in my 20’s as a wannabe SoCal surf babe), but my need for a mission grew and these started to look like minor inconveniences instead of deal breakers. I knew I had to find a training group.
I am NOT a joiner of things. I do not like clubs. I was never in a sorority. I like a small tight-knit group of friends (and I might like being alone even more, if I’m being honest).
Introvert with a capital “I”.
But I was kind of without a choice. For one, I was feeling a whole new version of alone (like actually deeply, cosmically alone, not “I’ll just stay in and read my book” alone). I knew I needed some people, preferably with a shared interest. And two, if I wanted to do this thing I had never done, I would need some guidance.
I found a group called Team In Training. TNT is a national organization that raises money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society while training people for endurance events. I reluctantly signed up, and a couple weeks later showed up at some random park in an area of Miami that I had never heard of (were we still in Miami?), with a group of people I’d never met, on a borrowed road bike that I tipped over on the first time I tried to clip in.
And just like that, in the most awkward and ungraceful way possible, I became part of this very eclectic group with a double mission: train for and complete an Olympic distance triathlon and raise several thousand dollars for a good cause.
We quickly became a team in many senses of the word; we held each other accountable, suffered together on long runs and rides in the hot Florida sun (hello trauma bonding), organized fundraisers, and worked directly with people whose lives had been affected by blood cancer.
What’s my point? I guess this was the first time in my life that I sought out physical activity as a means of building community, not just getting in shape. I did end up falling in love with the sport, but so much of that love was tied up in the way I felt about the people that I did it with and what we overcame and accomplished together.
The people I met, the fun we were having, the mission we shared - that’s why I never missed a workout. I found a place where I felt connected enough to stay, and over time that evolved into something much bigger than I ever expected.
Much like my experience with high school sports, being part of this group reminded me that the pursuit of physical health can and should be about so much more than calories burned or muscle gained. Using physical activity as a way to connect with other people (not just as a tool to change my body) reinforced my value system around fitness.
What am I capable of, and what makes the effort feel worthwhile?
Those were the questions I was asking on my loneliest days in Miami. And those questions have done far more for my health and my life than simply asking: “What’s the best exercise?”
But life altering mindset shifts don’t happen overnight. Belonging isn’t always immediate.
When I showed up to that first TNT workout, I didn’t feel like I belonged. I was wobbling around a borrowed bike, I didn’t know anyone, and I tried to learn to swim by watching YouTube tutorials. It was awkward and uncomfortable and a lot of it was very far outside of anything that felt natural to me.
My sister made me a poster for Christmas one year that says:
“The object isn’t to make art, it’s to be in that wonderful state which makes art inevitable.”
And I think about that quote all the time because I don’t think it’s just about art. You could substitute almost anything in there: strength, connection, creativity, health, courage, fulfillment. The goal isn’t really just the thing itself. It’s creating the conditions that make the thing more likely to happen.
Looking back, I think I was acting out of a combination of loneliness and curiosity. I needed a new tribe, wanted a new challenge, and instinctively tied those two things together in a way that made it harder for me to walk away. I guess you could say I tricked myself into being much braver and more social than I actually am.
The triathlon goal simply directed me toward a specific kind of environment. An environment full of people who valued challenge, consistency, growth, teamwork, and shared struggle. And once I immersed myself in that world, the habits and identity shifts that followed started to feel almost inevitable.
What do I value most about that time in my life? Athletic achievements? No. I value the person I became and the people I met while pursuing the goal.
That’s the part I think we overlook when we talk about motivation. We focus so much on the outcome itself, when the real power may lie in building an environment that naturally pulls us toward becoming the kind of person we want to be.
Maybe the better question isn’t just:
“What’s the perfect workout?”
Maybe it’s:
“What kind of environment will shape the way I want to live?”
Twenty years later, I still think that's one of the most important questions I've ever tricked myself into asking.
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