This is an open letter to all my clients, athletes, bike-fit folks, coaching athletes, and even those of you quietly watching from the background — the ones who take everything in but don’t always say much. This is for you, and honestly, for me too.
We are all human. Obvious, right? But the human experience of struggle, however, often involves a unique level of self-awareness, hope, and a drive for personal achievement. Not many of us are willing or able to admit we are struggling — at least not out loud.
There’s been something in my life that once felt amazing. I used to look forward to it every day. Lately, though, it’s become something I’d rather run away from. That shift has been heavy — it’s drained my energy, mentally and physically. I’ve felt frustrated, stuck, unsupported. I was originally planning to write about my journey in this field — how I got here and what I’ve learned. But honestly, this is where I am right now, and it feels more important to talk about connection, and how we can show up for each other when life feels hard.
Maybe you’ve felt that too — when something you once loved starts to feel like a burden. If so, this one’s for you.
The Pressure To Push
We live in a culture that glorifies hustle — 60- to 80-hour work weeks, seven-figure dreams, and the endless pursuit of being “the best.” Somewhere along the way, we decided that rest, reflection, and humanness didn’t fit that equation.
But where in all that striving do we leave room for us? For checking in, for feeling the full range of emotions that come with being alive? The truth is, we don’t. We measure worth by output, not presence.
I’ve fallen into that trap too — believing my value depended on how productive or visible I was. In the fitness and coaching world, it’s easy to blur the line between pushing for excellence and pushing past your breaking point.
But maybe success isn’t about how much we do. Maybe it’s about how present we are while doing it.
Redefine “Progress”
Over the past few months, I’ve had to slow down and look inward. To many, it might seem like I’m doing less, like I’m falling behind. But truthfully, I’ve been learning what progress really means.
One afternoon last week, around 2 p.m., I hit my limit. Normally I’d use that time to prepare for the next day or check off the final tasks from my list. Instead, I grabbed a book, a glass of water, a blanket, and my kitten — and I checked out. I skipped my workout. I didn’t do the “responsible” thing.
At first, I felt guilty — like I was breaking some invisible rule. But maybe rest is part of the work too. In training, we know rest days are where the real growth happens. Maybe the same is true for life.
And you know what? It helped. That one small pause gave me the space to breathe. I felt calmer, and when I returned to work the next day, I was sharper and more focused than I’d been in weeks. I connected better with my colleagues, I was present, not just in my physical form, but emotionally I was checked back in.
Just like trees in autumn, we have to shed what no longer serves us. Letting go isn’t failure; it’s how we make space for renewal.
Permission to Pause
We don’t talk enough about taking mental health days — about saying, “I need today for me.” It’s not lazy, it’s necessary.
I used to think stepping away meant falling behind, but the world doesn’t collapse when you pause. If anything, it gets quieter — and clarity has a chance to speak.
Giving yourself permission to pause doesn’t mean you’ve lost your drive. It means you’re aware of your limits and brave enough to protect your energy.
Finding Your Release Valve
For me, movement has always been my pressure valve. When I can’t ride, I lift. When I can’t lift, I chase my cats around the house. (They love it — mostly.) The activity doesn’t erase the stress, but it releases it — takes it from a 25 out of 10 down to a one.
That isn’t weakness. It’s resilience.
Your release might look different — a walk in the woods, a long shower, a journal entry, a scream into the wind. Whatever it is, find it and protect it. What helps you exhale? What brings you back to yourself when the world feels too loud?
Sometimes we share those releases with others. Sometimes we keep them private. Either way, it’s an act of strength to keep choosing yourself.
And when we give ourselves that space — that breath — something unexpected can happen. The noise quiets, and what’s underneath starts to surface again. That’s where reconnection begins.
Reconnecting with Purpose
Lately, I’ve been reflecting on what first drew me to my work — helping people move better, feel stronger, reconnect with their bodies. That spark is still there; it’s just been buried under the noise and exhaustion.
Maybe you’re in that place too — where the thing you used to love feels distant. That doesn’t mean it’s gone forever. Sometimes purpose isn’t lost; it’s just resting, waiting for you to slow down enough to find it again.
I don’t have it all figured out. But I’m learning that evolution isn’t something to resist. Passions can shift. Purpose can change shape. And that’s okay.
Reconnection doesn’t always look like starting over — sometimes it’s simply remembering why you began.
A Gentle Reminder
To my clients, athletes, and friends — if you’re in this space too, please know you’re not alone. We’re all figuring it out, even when it looks like we’ve got it together.
Healing and clarity take time. Sometimes they show up quietly, in the smallest moments — a breath, a walk, a laugh, a cat curled in your lap.
Even on the hardest days, the light still finds its way through the trees. Keep showing up — not perfectly, not endlessly, but as you are. That’s more than enough.
Maybe the bravest thing any of us can do is to stop, breathe, and remember we’re human.
If this resonated with you, I’d love to hear how you’re giving yourself permission to rest — or what your own “release valve” looks like. Hit reply or leave a comment. Let’s normalize talking about the hard stuff — together.
