The Messy Middle (and Why I Almost Didn’t Show You)

I used to think this was about my body.

The messy middle is uncomfortable. It’s embarrassing. It sucks, and it makes showing up so much harder.

I almost didn’t show you.

Being in the middle is the part nobody wants seen — the in-between, where you don’t look how you used to and you’re not yet where you’re going. But that’s exactly why I’m bringing you with me. So you know you’re not in it alone.

Because here’s what I’ve learned about the messy middle: you don’t get out of it by pushing harder. You get through it by taking on only what you can, getting confident in that, and building from there.

That’s the whole point. Meet yourself where you are — even when where you are is the messy middle.

And I’m living it right now, in real time.

Little by little, because everything stayed approachable, I’ve been adding. More water. Eating according to how I actually feel instead of how I think I’m supposed to. That alone showed me something — the amount of sugar and alcohol I’d been having wasn’t helping me show up. I didn’t have to white-knuckle that realization. I just paid attention, and my body told me.

Now I’m at the point in my training where the muscles are waking up. That good burning kind of activation. I won’t lie to you and say it feels amazing in the moment — it doesn’t. But when I’m done, it does. Every time I get there, it feels empowering. I’m reaching for heavier weights. Pushing a little harder. The other day it was dumbbell squats, and I felt them deep in my core — which I know came from all the core work in class. It’s all connected. It’s all building.

And every bit of it came from tiny, approachable steps. The kind that seem so small they don’t count. I get it. They look like they don’t count. But once you learn to let the small things count, that’s when you build the foundation for the bigger things. And the best part — you never have to lose them.

The hard part, honestly

It’s so hard to see myself in the videos. It’s a body I don’t want to recognize as mine. And I’m not even comparing myself to other people — I’m comparing myself to younger versions of me. “Better” versions, the voice says. And I feel disappointed. Ashamed, even, for not holding onto that.

But that shame walks me right back to the truth: none of those old systems were sustainable.

The workouts worked. There’s nothing wrong with the workouts. But they were built on a foundation that only held if I was perfect — or if I kept a perfect streak. And anything built on perfection is made to be broken. It’s not meant to last.

So when I look at myself and the voice says I should feel bad because I don’t look how I used to, I answer it: the version I’m building now knows how to keep it. I’m going to be proud of who I am right now. Not because I’m perfect — because I finally know how to hold on.

The thing people miss

There’s a moment I keep coming back to.

That tougher workout — the heavier, harder thing I’d been building toward — I was only able to do it because I knew I had the simple version to fall back on. I didn’t push through it on discipline. Not motivation. Not willpower. Not to protect a streak. I chose the harder thing because I knew, deep down, that five minutes today would have counted too.

I had the off-ramp. And having the off-ramp is the exact thing that freed me to do more.

That’s the part people miss. Doing less doesn’t mean it doesn’t count. Less counts more than going all-in and not being able to keep going.

And the real difference now is this: I listen, and I try not to judge. When something needs work, when something feels off, when I can’t do a thing — none of that is a verdict on me anymore. It’s information. It tells me what small change makes this approachable. Doable. That’s it. That’s all it ever was. Information, not a sentence.

Two thresholds at once

Here’s something that’s been sitting with me. I’m 43. At the edge of what people call middle age. So in a way, I’m not just in the messy middle of my training — I’m standing at the doorway of the messy middle of life, too. Two thresholds at once.

I’m not mourning it. I’m claiming it. Because this is exactly the stage where the sustainable version of me finally takes root.

I’ve been to the other version. The one built on force and streaks and starting over. I know how that ends.

This time, I get to keep it. I get to come back to it. And I just keep going.

The messy middle isn’t where it falls apart. It’s where it finally holds.

Strong. Steady. Sustainable.

— Gwen