Home Gym

I am a former gym rat. I loved the gym. If I had a free 20 minutes, I would stop in and hop on the stairmaster and stretch for 2 minutes and leave. I mean if someone called and asked me to coffee and I had a plan to go to the gym, I would say (with all sincerity), "I am sorry I have an appointment. Can we meet tomorrow?"

It pained me to no end when gym closed during COVID. I understood why and was in agreement with the need to distance, but I would drive to the gym parking lot. I felt the loss of my sense of self then. Although I had a gym at home also at the time, something about not having that space felt like a deep loss. It was clear to me then that I had some work to do on my identity. My real self. My vision of who I was and am. 

Right at the tail end-ish of the lockdown is when my close family member was diagnosed. I had been already caring alone for my disabled daughter and she was finally in a place where I could leave and go to the gym a few minutes away for an hour. Well, this rocked everything. 
Not only was my ability to return to the gym diminished by this family member's need for a sterile environment, my stress hit an all time high. I started to slowly slide into depression without realizing it. I was able to take care of them with precision, but could barely get myself to comb my hair. Checking the mail was out of the question. I say that because when it came to my home gym, though it is situated next to the living room in open air, I just couldn't muster the energy to use it.

Enter in my old self trying to be my new self.

I made similar workout routines of days of old. Bad idea.

I set up a reward system for this heavy training protocol. Bad idea.

I thought if I just got up at 6 am and drove to a new gym and did something, I would feel like my old self. Bad idea.

Long story short, doing very little became the accepted strategy. 

Where I am now is this: the home gym is the only option.

I am 70 pounds heavier. 

None of my old workout clothes fit me. 

I feel extremely self-conscious in the gym. 

The gym smells like dirty socks and nickels. 

What I have in my home gym:

A treadmill.

A jump rope.

A small row of kettlebells.

A stationary bike. 

A short step.

Bands.

Foam roller.

I do have subscriptions to workout platforms, but honestly my brain can't handle it right now. All the cheering and ra-ra-raing is just too much for me at this present stage (October 1, 2025). I am hopeful that in a few weeks I can do a class or two per week, but for now I am designing my own workouts that will be 20-30 minutes, 4 days per week with walking on the treadmill at other times.

This season of life is at home

It's easy to look online at everyone on YouTube (I don't have TikTok and I don't use Instagram) and it seems everyone is living like I used to. Going to the gym. Making gains. Etc.

In this season of my life,  it  calls for grace. Simplicity. Ease. Less. Doable.

I can honor myself now and my old self by taking my time to craft a plan to truly be completable and slightly effortless. My mental strength is best reserved for something other than reminiscing on days of old.

I am grateful to have the pieces in my home gym/kitchen that I have now. It's hard to live and sleep and work in the same room that the gym is in, but this is a test in fortitude. I can compartmentalize the gym space. I can make a plan that is doable and easy. 

If you too are in a season of life where things are not as you wish them to be. If you too lack privacy and essential space to grow and you feel clipped at the wings, you are not alone. 

Go slowly. Go easily. It's okay if it isn't perfect. Just do something because you deserve it.