The other day, a memory popped up on my social media feed from ten years ago.
There I was, standing on a fitness competition stage wearing a sparkly bikini and impossibly high heels. You know the kind of competition I’m talking about. I was lean, strong, and in the best physical shape of my life.
As I looked through the photos, I felt two emotions at the same time.
Pride.
And…
Longing.
I was proud because I knew what those pictures didn’t show.
They didn’t show the early mornings, the disciplined workouts, the meal prep, or the determination it took to get on that stage. More importantly, they didn’t show what was happening behind the scenes.
At that time, I was navigating one of the biggest heartbreaks of my life—a separation after a 20-year marriage.
Those photos captured a woman who looked incredibly strong on the outside, but inside she was trying to figure out how to rebuild a life she never imagined would change so dramatically.
And yes, there was longing too.
Not because I necessarily want to be that lean again (although those shoulders weren’t too bad!), but because I remembered what it felt like to commit to something difficult and see it through. There was something deeply satisfying about watching months of hard work culminate in a single moment on that stage.
But the greatest transformation wasn’t physical.
It was emotional.
Looking back, I realized that somewhere in the middle of all that pain, I made a decision.
I decided I was going to get better, not bitter.
That decision didn’t magically erase the hurt.
There were days I cried when I came across old family photos. Days I questioned everything. Days I felt like I had failed. Breakups have a way of making you question your identity, your future, and even your worth. I wasn’t just grieving the end of a marriage. I was grieving the future I thought I was going to have.
Suddenly, the life I had imagined for twenty years disappeared, and I had no idea what the next chapter would look like.That uncertainty was frightening. But I also discovered something important. Even when life feels completely out of your control, there are still things you get to choose.
You get to choose how you respond. You get to choose whether you stay stuck or take one small step forward. You get to choose whether your circumstances define you or refine you.
For me, fitness became that choice. Every workout reminded me that I was stronger than I felt. Every healthy meal was an act of self-respect. Every drop of sweat was a reminder that I was still moving forward, even when life felt like it had stopped.
Movement became more than exercise. It became therapy. It became hope.
It became proof that healing isn’t something that happens all at once—it’s something you build one day, one workout, one choice at a time. Today, ten years later, my goals have changed. I’m no longer chasing a competition stage. I’m chasing longevity.
Now in my 50s I want to feel strong enough to hike mountains, play golf, lift weights, teach Pilates, travel, and enjoy whatever adventures life has waiting for me.
I still train hard.
I still believe in taking care of my body.
But now I know that true strength isn’t measured by how lean you are or how much weight you can lift.
It’s measured by your ability to keep moving forward when life asks you to begin again.
If you’re walking through a difficult season right now, I hope you’ll remember this:
You can’t always control what happens to you.
But you can control what happens next.
You can choose to become stronger because of your story instead of being defined by it.
Ten years ago, I entered a fitness competition thinking I was building muscles.
Looking back now, I realize I was building something much more important.
I was rebuilding myself. And for that, I’ll always be grateful. So if you too are going through something heartbreaking or life changing, remind yourself, you can choose to Get Better, Not Bitter.
