My Midlife CrossFit Crisis: When Holding On Held Me Back

When Less Felt Like Not Enough

While my kids were young, I took a step away from my career in the fitness space and focused on building a small, family-oriented business that gave me a lot more flexibility and served as a way for me to connect with my kids and the community we were a part of.

I framed this transition as a strategic move—a way to still be an entrepreneur, a hustler, a #bossbabe—a way to stay engaged in a career while allowing time to focus on my family. Even though I wanted to take on more responsibilities at home, I fully expected to crush it in my new career too.

In reality, this phase wasn’t about building my next empire, it was about honoring my role as a mom. It required slowing down, making less money, and creating something that might never expand beyond my own little community. It was small in the business sense of the word, but still a deeply fulfilling time of my life—filled with creativity, connection, and some of my happiest memories as a mom.

And still, it often didn’t feel like enough.

I tried really hard to adopt the identity of “mompreneur”, like one of those stock art photos of a woman bouncing a baby on her lap, while gleefully typing away on her laptop completely unbothered. I internalized the belief that “women can do anything” as “women should do everything” and spent a lot of time stressed out and feeling guilty that I couldn’t do more.

If I had been more honest with myself, and not so stuck on my old metrics of success, I might have better appreciated this time for its purpose and its impact instead of feeling disheartened by its size and stature.

As my kids got older, we started to age out of this phase—the phase where my work and their lives were unmistakably intertwined. The inspiration for my work had been their childhood, their experiences, and their needs. Now all of that was changing and I was left with a choice to carry on without my muses, or start something new. This should have felt like a natural progression, but because I had spent so much time convincing myself my work should amount to more, it felt like a failure.

Starting Over

The hardest part of staring over (again) is fighting that nagging feeling that I could be so much further ahead if I hadn’t taken a career detour—even though, deep down, I know it wasn’t a detour at all. It was the scenic route,—slow and winding but rich with moments I wouldn’t trade for anything.

I’d like to say this gratitude epiphany struck me like a bolt of lightning, that I seamlessly and enthusiastically closed one chapter and started the next. Alas…that’s not how it went down. Instead, I felt stuck at the crossroads, looking back at what could have been, what I should have done, and how I could reclaim the success I once had.

The Existential CrossFit Crisis

Of course there was something ahead, there always is. One door closes and another opens, right? But no one ever mentions how hard it is to find the next door. That’s the thing about opportunity—it often arrives disguised as loss. And what did I do during my career grief stage?

I hit the gym, and I hit it hard.

I needed to feel successful at something—to channel my drive into a measurable goal. With no clear path forward in my career, I doubled down on training, chasing numbers in the gym like they were my new purpose.

It was a good distraction at first, and I felt satisfied as my lifts started to creep back to my pre-kid numbers. I rarely took a day off and ignored the fact that I was always exhausted and sore. I never felt rested or recovered, but just chalked it up to stress instead of asking myself if what I was doing was actually good for me.

You know where this story is going. My back—already sore for months—finally gave out after one-too-many max-effort deadlifts. I had no choice but to pause, reassess, and completely rethink my approach to training.

There I was—my body in pain, my business no longer thriving—not because life was unfair, but because I refused to see what was right in front of me. I had been pushing my body past its limits, unwilling to acknowledge that it needed something different. With the same stubborn hold, I clung to my business long after it stopped serving me, because I was afraid of what letting go would mean.

The Crisis Wasn’t the Change—It Was My Resistance to It

I jokingly call this period my Existential CrossFit Crisis, but in truth, it was a Midlife Crisis in its purest form—a struggle to reconcile who I had been with who I was becoming. The real problem wasn’t my body or my business; it was my unwillingness to loosen my grip on an old identity that no longer fit.

Change can feel like loss. But loss and growth often go hand in hand.

Physically, that change would require me to do a lot of things in the gym that had less to do with pushing my body, and more to do with understanding it. The same formula applied to my personal and work life too. Less charging and proving, more listening and learning.

Letting Go and Moving Forward

For so long, I thought success meant proving I could still do it all—train the way I used to, build a business at full throttle, be everything to everyone. But I’m learning that midlife isn’t about clawing my way back to who I used to be. It’s about honoring who I am now and making choices that support the life I’m actually living.

When I finally (and begrudgingly) began to let go of outdated definitions of strength and success, I saw something I hadn’t allowed myself to see before: a wide-open space where I could build something new—not from a place of proving, but from a place of purpose.

The Strength to Evolve

I know I can’t show up in my life the way I did in my 20’s and 30’s, but that doesn’t mean I have to completely abandon the value system and ambition that brought out my best. I love my competitive nature, I love my obsession with building business around things I’m passionate about. How do I take all of this energy with me into the next phase of my life without completely running myself into the ground?

How can I accept it as enough knowing it will never be the same?

Here’s what I’m trying: I’m taking a long hard look at the most meaningful aspects of my past and figuring out how to use that as a foundation for my future. I’m looking forward. I’m staying driven by joy and by purpose. I’m allow myself to appreciate the moments on the scenic route instead of freaking out and throwing everything into reverse.

Being “enough" isn’t about constant achievement—it’s about aligning our effort with what truly matters.

In my career, I’ve realized that while financial sustainability matters, the most valuable thing isn’t just revenue or recognition—it’s the community that grows around the work. So as I re-engage in the “business of fitness,” I’m starting with community. The success of my work moving forward will be measured not by old markers of achievement, but by the impact it has on the women I serve. That feels like a foundation worth building on.

And as for strength? That’s a definition I’ve been rewriting since I was in middle school. As a teenager, I rejected the pressure to be thin and embraced building muscle, power, and ability. In my 20s, I pushed my body to its limits, and I thrived in that pursuit. In my 30’s, I traded two-a-day workouts and competitions for breastfeeding and carpools. I began to question if I was still strong, or if I could still call myself an athlete.

And now, in my 40s, I finally understand: strength has never been just about how much I can lift or whether I win. It’s about how I live my life—powerful, self-sufficient, full of energy, and ready for adventure.

When I picture my grown-woman definition of strength, I don’t see a body type or a leaderboard. I see motion. I see function. I see the ability to hike to the top of a mountain, to scoop up my kid and take in every ounce of him, to live fully in all the moments that bring me joy.

I see a life built not just on discipline and effort, but on presence, connection, and the freedom to evolve. And if I can hold onto that—not the version of me I once was, but the woman I’m becoming—then maybe the next few decades won’t just measure up to the past. Maybe they’ll outshine them.

This is something I’m still figuring out, and I’d love to hear from you. What’s been your biggest lesson in evolving strength or success?

For more of this midlife conversation, check out this episode of The FitSister podcast:

Episode 21: Unpacking the midlife crisis and why getting old might be awesome

Interested in coaching? I’m always available for a free consultation call or check out group coaching. No pressure, no catch—just an opportunity to connect. Check out www.thefitsister.com for more information or click below.