The Sacred Discipline of Showing Up

The Sacred Discipline of the Gym: Why I Keep Showing Up

I’ve been working out since my teens. My mom used to drive me to the gym and pick me up later because I wasn’t old enough to get there myself. While most kids were sleeping in or hanging out at the mall, I was learning how to load plates, adjust a bench, and move weight. It made sense to me in a way nothing else did. And it stuck.

Lifting became my anchor. I’ve carried it through every chapter of my life. Through motherhood, divorce, career changes, and reinvention. I even trained for a bikini competition at 37. That process was brutal. It stripped away every excuse and taught me what discipline really means. I didn’t do it to win. I did it to prove to myself that I could finish something hard. And I did.

I’ve also had to rebuild after injury. Slowly. Intentionally. Rep by rep. It is humbling to feel weak in a body you once trusted. But that process teaches you respect. It teaches patience. It reminds you that rebuilding is not a one-time act. It is a daily choice.

Now I get to watch my kids fall in love with the gym and movement in their own ways. My oldest son lifts heavy weights, tracks his macros, and has transformed his body through focus and consistency. His dedication blows me away. My daughter became a certified barre instructor. She lives to teach and take class, and I love being in the room when she teaches. There is something magical about the way women respond to her energy. She leads with strength and presence, and I am always proud to be one of her students.

What started as something just for me has become something we share. It has become a language we all speak. Watching my children grow into their own strength has been one of the most unexpected and joyful parts of parenting.

I don’t hike.
I don’t run.
I hate the outdoors unless there’s a horse involved.
But the gym is where I go to find peace.

It is the one place where my mind goes quiet. Where I stop spinning. Where everything makes sense. Headphones in. Weights loaded. Everyone in the room chasing their own version of better.

It is not just about the mirror. It is not just about the reps. It is about the ritual. The consistency. The quiet power of showing up for yourself. Day after day. It is about who you become in the process, not what you look like at the end.

The gym is my church. Not in a religious way, but in a sacred one. Walking into that space reminds me that I can do hard things. That discomfort does not mean stop. It means keep going. That progress is made in silence, in sweat, and in the decision to keep showing up.

That is what The Edit is really about.

Coming back to yourself.
Building the strength you need to live differently.
Writing a new story with intention and integrity.
Living with earned confidence.

Some people find peace in prayer.
I find it under a loaded barbell.