Dragging Myself to the Gym Changed Everything

At the end of 2023, I hit rock bottom. And no, it wasn’t some dramatic, cinematic collapse with violins swelling in the background. It was the kind of breaking point where you quietly realize that every part of your life feels like it’s being held together with duct tape and sheer denial. My mental health was in absolute shambles. Just getting out of bed felt like trying to move a mountain. Facing the day? Don’t even get me started.

I wasn’t functioning. I wasn’t living. I was barely existing. And the thought of clawing my way out of that pit? Laughable. I had no energy, no hope, and definitely no plan.

But here’s the funny thing about life—it sometimes throws you a lifeline when you least expect it. Early in 2024, I met Prakash, my coach. And while I was not looking for a coach (or a gym, or anything requiring effort), he ended up changing my life in ways I could never have imagined.

Prakash wasn’t your typical trainer. He didn’t bark orders, throw around motivational quotes, or guilt me into doing more squats. No, he met me exactly where I was: scared, fragile, and deeply distrustful of my own body.

I’ve been fat all my life. That’s not an admission or an apology—it’s just a fact. And for as long as I can remember, being fat has made movement feel like an insurmountable challenge. Exercise wasn’t just physically hard; it was emotionally excruciating. Every step on a treadmill felt like an invitation for judgment. Every ache reminded me of all the times I’d tried and failed before. Worst of all, I was terrified of pain. Not just the physical discomfort, but the emotional pain of trying and falling short yet again.

When I met Prakash, I told him flat out, “I don’t think I can do this.” He didn’t argue or try to motivate me with clichés. He simply said, “Let’s just start where you are. The rest will follow.”

The Fear of Movement

For years, my relationship with movement had been broken. Fitness was a revolving door of yo-yo diets, bursts of short-lived enthusiasm, and inevitable failure. Each attempt felt more humiliating than the last. I’d start a program, lose a little weight, and then gain it all back—and then some.

Being fat made movement uniquely terrifying. It wasn’t just about my body’s limitations; it was about the crushing awareness of how others perceived me. In a gym full of toned bodies and confident faces, I felt like an imposter. I couldn’t escape the feeling that every glance was laced with judgment, every whisper was about me.

Prakash didn’t just help me move—he helped me confront that fear. He taught me to focus inward, to treat movement as an act of self-care rather than a punishment. “You’re not here to prove anything to anyone,” he said. “You’re here to take care of yourself.”

Befriending Pain

The first five months were brutal. Every session left me sore, exhausted, and questioning why I was doing this to myself. But slowly, something shifted. The pain stopped feeling like the enemy. Instead, it became a marker of effort—a sign that I was trying.

Prakash taught me the difference between destructive pain and constructive pain. One breaks you down; the other builds you up. It wasn’t an overnight revelation, but over time, I learned to trust my body. I stopped dreading the burn and started seeing it as progress. Befriending pain was one of the hardest, yet most transformative, parts of this journey.

Rebuilding Trust in My Body

For most of my life, my body felt like a problem to solve—a puzzle with missing pieces. But as I kept showing up to the gym, something incredible happened: I started to trust it again.

It wasn’t about drastic weight loss or aesthetic transformation. It was about the quiet victories that reminded me of my own strength. Holding a plank for 30 seconds. Squatting without collapsing. Running a little longer than I thought I could. These moments were monumental because they shattered the narrative I’d carried for years: that my body wasn’t capable.

Taking Gym Lessons to Work: The Art of Showing Up

One of the biggest lessons the gym taught me is that progress isn’t about grand gestures—it’s about showing up. At work, this has translated into a profound understanding that consistency often matters more than brilliance. Just like pushing through a tough workout on a bad day builds resilience, tackling small tasks at work—even when I’m not feeling 100%—creates momentum.

There were days at the gym when I felt weak, clumsy, or tired. But every time I walked out, I realized that the act of being there was a victory in itself. That same mindset has reshaped how I approach difficult projects. It’s not about being perfect every day—it’s about committing to the process, and trusting that the small steps will add up.

Embracing Discomfort to Grow

Every session at the gym reminded me that discomfort is where growth happens. The moments when I pushed through one more rep or held a plank for just five seconds longer were the moments that changed me the most. At work, I’ve started to see challenges and discomfort as opportunities rather than threats.

I used to avoid difficult conversations or stretch assignments, afraid of failing or looking incompetent. But just as the gym taught me to embrace the burn, I’ve learned to lean into professional challenges. Whether it’s giving tough feedback, presenting an idea I’m unsure of, or navigating workplace conflict, I now see these moments as the professional equivalent of ‘leg day’—tough but transformative.

Discipline Over Motivation

Motivation is fickle, and nowhere is that more evident than in both fitness and work. The gym taught me that waiting to ‘feel motivated’ is a trap; discipline is what carries you through when the excitement fades. At work, this realization has been a game-changer.

I’ve stopped chasing the fleeting high of inspiration and instead built systems that help me stay consistent. Whether it’s blocking time for deep work, setting deadlines for myself, or creating accountability structures, I’ve learned that discipline isn’t restrictive—it’s freeing. It allows me to deliver even when things feel hard.

Learning to Fail Gracefully

The gym has been a humbling teacher. There have been times when I couldn’t finish a set, dropped a weight, or fell short of a goal. But those moments of failure taught me to pause, reassess, and try again without shame.

At work, this has helped me approach setbacks with more grace. Instead of spiraling into self-doubt when something doesn’t go as planned, I’ve learned to treat failure as feedback. Just like I analyze what went wrong in a workout to adjust my form, I now analyze professional missteps to grow.

Building a Support Network

In the gym, I’ve found strength not just in myself but in the community around me. From Prakash’s guidance to the quiet encouragement of strangers, the people I’ve met have made all the difference.

This has taught me the importance of building a support network at work. Whether it’s seeking mentorship, collaborating with colleagues, or simply being open to feedback, I’ve realized that growth is rarely a solo journey. Just as I rely on others to spot me during a heavy lift, I’ve learned to lean on my team when the workload feels overwhelming.

Patience as a Superpower

One of the hardest lessons I’ve learned in the gym is that progress is slow. Results don’t show up overnight, and sometimes, it feels like you’re stuck in place. But patience—showing up day after day, trusting the process—has been my greatest ally.

At work, this has been a revelation. In a culture that glorifies quick wins, I’ve learned to value slow, steady progress. Whether it’s building a new skill, nurturing a client relationship, or working toward a long-term goal, patience has taught me to focus on the bigger picture.

Resilience in the Face of Rejection

There’s a unique kind of rejection that comes with the gym—the failure to lift a weight, the inability to complete a set. It’s frustrating and humbling, but it also builds resilience. At work, rejection has always felt personal. Whether it’s an idea that gets shot down or a project that doesn’t land, I used to internalize these moments as failures.

But the gym has taught me that rejection isn’t the end; it’s just data. It’s feedback that can make you better if you let it. This mindset shift has been liberating, allowing me to face professional setbacks with less fear and more curiosity.

Trusting the Process

Perhaps the most profound lesson I’ve taken from the gym to work is the importance of trusting the process. In fitness, there are no shortcuts. You can’t rush results or skip the foundational work. The same is true in a career.

I’ve stopped looking for quick fixes or immediate gratification and started embracing the grind. Whether it’s mastering a new skill, building a team, or navigating a challenging project, I’ve learned to trust that the effort I put in will pay off—even if I don’t see results right away.

These lessons have made me not just a better professional but a better person. The gym, in its own unassuming way, has become a classroom where I’ve learned resilience, discipline, and self-belief—skills that no amount of formal education could teach me.

Friendship, Love, and Commitment: The Unexpected Lessons

When I started going to the gym, I thought it would be a solitary pursuit—a private battle between me and my body. I didn’t expect to find a connection there. After all, fitness spaces often feel isolating, especially when you don’t fit the stereotypical mold of what a ‘gym-goer’ looks like. I walked in with my head down, determined to stay invisible, to exist in my own little bubble of sweat and effort. But over time, the gym became a place where I didn’t just reconnect with my body—I reconnected with people.

Friendship in Sweat and Struggle

It started with the smallest gestures: a nod from someone who saw me struggling through my last set, a shared smile after a grueling session, or a casual “You’ve got this!” from a stranger. These tiny acts of encouragement created a sense of camaraderie that I hadn’t expected.

Prakash, of course, was my anchor. He wasn’t just a coach; he became a friend. He had this way of making me feel seen—not as a ‘client’ or a ‘project’ but as a whole person. On days when I doubted myself, his steady belief in me was enough to keep me going. But beyond Prakash, there were others: the regulars who cheered me on, the occasional gym buddy who’d help me with form, the people who’d share their own struggles and victories.

Friendship at the gym isn’t about deep conversations or shared interests; it’s about shared effort. There’s a unique bond that forms when you’re both drenched in sweat, pushing through pain, and celebrating small wins together. It’s unspoken, but it’s powerful.

Love, as an Act of Showing Up

Love, I’ve learned, isn’t just a feeling—it’s a practice. And the gym taught me that love, whether for yourself or others, is built on small, consistent acts of care. Every time I showed up to the gym, even when I didn’t want to, it was an act of love for myself. It wasn’t always glamorous or Instagram-worthy. Sometimes, it was messy, awkward, and downright painful. But it was real.

This understanding of love has spilled into my relationships. I’ve started to think of love not as grand gestures or dramatic declarations but as the quiet, everyday work of showing up. It’s in the text you send to check on a friend, the patience you show when your partner is having a bad day, and the willingness to be vulnerable even when it’s uncomfortable.

At its core, love is about commitment—not the flashy, romanticized kind, but the kind that says, I’ll keep showing up for you, even when it’s hard.

Commitment: The Foundation of Everything

If there’s one word that encapsulates my gym journey, it’s commitment. It’s the thread that ties everything together—friendship, love, growth, resilience. Commitment isn’t flashy or easy, but it’s what makes progress possible.

When I first started working out, I didn’t trust myself to commit to anything. My track record of abandoning fitness programs was proof enough. But something shifted when I decided to commit to the gym—not because of external pressure or a specific goal, but because I wanted to rebuild my relationship with myself.

That commitment didn’t just transform my body; it transformed my mindset. It taught me that showing up, day after day, is the foundation of growth. Whether it’s in friendships, work, or love, commitment is what keeps you going when motivation fades.

How the Gym Deepened My Friendships

Before the gym, I often approached friendships with a sense of insecurity. I worried about being a burden, about not having enough to offer. But the gym taught me that relationships thrive on vulnerability. The friendships I’ve built in that space aren’t about appearances or accomplishments—they’re about mutual support, shared effort, and the quiet understanding that we’re all in this together.

I’ve started carrying that mindset into my other relationships. I’ve learned to show up for my friends, even when it’s inconvenient. I’ve learned to let them show up for me, even when it feels uncomfortable. And I’ve learned that true friendship isn’t transactional—it’s built on trust, patience, and the willingness to struggle together.

How the Gym Changed My Approach to Love

Love, I’ve realized, is a lot like fitness: it requires effort, consistency, and an openness to growth. Just as I’ve learned to trust my body, I’ve learned to trust the people I love.

The gym has taught me that love isn’t about perfection. It’s about embracing the messy, imperfect process of becoming. Whether it’s learning to forgive myself for a bad workout or learning to forgive my partner for a bad day, the gym has given me the tools to approach love with more patience and compassion.

It’s also taught me that love—real love—isn’t about avoiding discomfort. It’s about leaning into it, knowing that growth and connection often come from the hard, awkward moments.

How Commitment Became My Superpower

Commitment is the invisible force that has carried me through this journey. It’s what gets me to the gym on days when I’d rather stay in bed. It’s what keeps me pushing through a tough workout when my muscles are screaming at me to stop. And it’s what reminds me that progress, no matter how slow, is always worth it.

This sense of commitment has become the foundation of everything I do. At work, it’s what drives me to keep showing up, even when the tasks feel overwhelming. In friendships, it’s what helps me stay present, even when life gets busy. In love, it’s what keeps me choosing my partner, day after day, even when things aren’t easy.

The Ripple Effect of Gym Lessons

The lessons I’ve learned in the gym—about friendship, love, and commitment—have reshaped every aspect of my life. They’ve taught me that relationships, like fitness, are built on small, consistent acts of effort. They’ve shown me that growth is a process, not a destination. And they’ve reminded me that showing up—for yourself and others—is the most powerful thing you can do.

The gym didn’t just make me stronger physically; it made me stronger emotionally. It taught me to value connection, to embrace vulnerability, and to commit to the things that matter most. And for that, I will always be grateful.

Still Not a Gym Rat (and Probably Never Will Be)

Let me be clear: I’m not some fitness fanatic who bounds out of bed, ready to seize the day with a 6 a.m. workout and a kale smoothie. Most days, I absolutely hate going to the gym. I hate lacing up my sneakers. I hate the effort it takes to haul myself out of bed when the world outside is still half-asleep. I’m cranky, I’m yelling (mostly at myself), and if I didn’t have Prakash waiting for me, I’d probably convince myself that an extra hour in bed is just as restorative as a workout. Spoiler alert: it’s not.

The truth is, I’m not one of those people who’s fallen in love with the gym. I don’t feel a rush of endorphins mid-workout, and I certainly don’t feel euphoric afterward. What I feel is mostly exhaustion, mixed with a grudging sense of accomplishment. And yet, despite all the grumbling, I keep going back. Why? Because even on the days when I hate every second of it, I can see the changes it’s making in me—not just in my body, but in my soul, my heart, and yes, my Apple Watch rings.

On the surface, it seems trivial: completing my activity rings for the day, adding a few more steps to my count, and burning a few more calories. But those little milestones have started to mean something to me. They’re not just metrics; they’re proof that I showed up. They’re tiny, tangible reminders that I did something hard, even when I didn’t want to. And over time, those small victories have added up to something much bigger.

Here’s the thing: I don’t think I’ll ever be the kind of person who loves working out. But that’s okay. I don’t need to love it to appreciate what it’s done for me. The gym hasn’t just made me stronger physically; it’s fundamentally changed the way I see myself. It’s taught me that I can do hard things, even when I don’t feel like it. It’s given me a sense of control over my body and my life that I didn’t think was possible. And for all the yelling and grumbling, I’ve found something in the gym that I wasn’t even looking for: hope.

Closing Reflections

Dragging myself to the gym every day, even when I wanted to rot in bed, has been the hardest and most rewarding thing I’ve ever done. It taught me that strength isn’t just about muscles—it’s about resilience, discipline, and self-belief. It taught me that failure isn’t the end; it’s just a step on the path forward.

Most importantly, it taught me that I am capable of so much more than I thought. And if I can carry that lesson into every other part of my life, then every drop of sweat and every moment of discomfort will have been worth it.