Making Peace with the Season You’re In

As I sat down to write this blog, it became clear that I’ve really been going through it this past year. That realization pulled me back to my story — the story of a female athlete and coach navigating change, setbacks, and growth.

Recently, my business coach reminded me how powerful it can be to revisit old writing. So I reread past blogs and noticed something interesting: the last time I wrote about my story was also in February. February of last year.

There’s something about late winter that invites reflection. It’s the in-between season. Not the excitement of January. Not the bloom of spring. Just stillness. A space to look at how things went, how we hoped they would go, and how we understand them now.

This year, that reflection hasn’t been easy.

The past year brought multiple injuries — mostly back-related — along with a frozen shoulder that showed up uninvited. From a fitness standpoint, it felt like I wasn’t moving forward at all. In many ways, it felt like I had taken steps backward.

Before my first back injury, I had numbers in my head:
A 200-pound deadlift.
A 185-pound back squat.
A 125-pound clean & jerk.
Another podium finish at Duathlon Nationals.

I could see it. I could feel it.

And then… none of it happened.

Not one goal.

Was I mad? Absolutely.
Did I feel betrayed by my body? Yes.
Am I still working on letting that go? Every day.

What no one prepares you for is the quiet grief when your body doesn’t respond the way it used to. The grief of slower recovery. Of heavier weights. Of realizing you can’t outwork everything anymore.

And for women, this isn’t just aging — it’s physiology.

Perimenopause can feel like your body rewrote the rulebook without telling you. Hormones shift. Recovery changes. Sleep changes. Stress tolerance changes. And instead of acknowledging that, most of us just push harder. We assume we’re not disciplined enough.

I did.

I trained through pain. I compared myself to a version of me that no longer exists. I felt like I was falling behind — behind my goals, behind my expectations, behind who I thought I should be by now.

But here’s the part that makes this story bigger than injury.

When I couldn’t train the way I wanted to, I poured myself into my business and my relationships. I built. I connected. I grew. In many ways, I reached a level professionally that I’ve been chasing for nearly ten years.

So no — I wasn’t moving backward.

I was just growing in a different direction.

This winter forced me to slow down. And in that stillness, I had to face something uncomfortable: I wasn’t actually doing what I needed to recover. I was operating from pride. From ego. From “I’ve been doing this long enough to figure it out.”

I assumed I knew what was wrong instead of asking, “What’s happening in this season of my body?”

So I finally did. I got evaluated for what’s real right now — not what was true twenty years ago.

Letting go of my old expectations — and the expectations I thought others had of me — felt like peeling off layers of pressure I didn’t even realize I was carrying.

I’m not magically healed. I’m still working through back issues. But now I’m addressing what’s actually in front of me instead of fighting ghosts.

And maybe that’s the lesson.

To the women navigating perimenopause, slower recovery, frustration, or unexpected setbacks: you are not broken. You are not done. You are in transition.

Sometimes the way forward isn’t more discipline.

Sometimes it’s support.
Sometimes it’s reflection.
Sometimes it’s admitting you don’t have it all figured out.

Sometimes strength is allowing yourself to begin again — from exactly where you are.

If you’re in a season where your body feels unfamiliar, where recovery looks different, or where you’re questioning what’s next — you don’t have to navigate it alone. This is the work I care deeply about.

Maybe that’s why February keeps calling me back to my story. It’s the quiet season that asks for honesty. Two years in a row, this month has asked me to pause, to look clearly at where I am, and to release who I thought I was supposed to be.

Maybe February isn’t about evaluating progress at all.

Maybe it’s about making peace with the season you’re in — and trusting that growth is still happening, even when it looks different than you planned.