I used to smoke.

I used to drink.

And I really liked to smoke when I drank.

Those two things went together beautifully.

Until they didn’t need each other anymore.

Then I just smoked.

I smoked when I drank. I smoked when I didn’t drink. I smoked with coffee. I smoked because I was bored. I smoked because that’s what I did.

And here’s the really fucked up part.

I have always worked out.

Always.

I smoked before I worked out.

I smoked after I worked out.

I’d do something good for my heart and lungs and then walk outside and light a cigarette.

Make that make sense.

Except at the time, it did.

Because that’s the thing about health that I don’t think we talk about enough.

It isn’t nearly as black and white as we like to make it.

The Menthol Did It for Me

I was introduced to smoking really young.

Both of my parents smoked.

Cigarettes were just there. They were part of the scenery of my childhood.

When my sister and I were maybe nine or ten, we’d leave the babysitter’s and go to our house to sneak cigarettes.

And even then, I had preferences.

I made sure my sister got the no-filter fuckers that dad smoked. Pall Mall. That red package – no filters.

I wanted the menthols that mom smoked. Benson & Hedges Menthol Light 100s.

LOL.

Apparently I was a tiny cigarette connoisseur.

But here’s the weird thing.

Even that young, I remember thinking there was something about smoking that I could get addicted to.

I liked it.

Especially the menthol.

There was a pull there.

Of course, kid me wasn’t thinking about nicotine addiction or cardiovascular disease or any of the shit adult me knows now.

Smoking was normal.

The adults around me did it.

So eventually, I did too. Even though I swore I never would.

And I smoked for years.

But I Was “Healthy”

Or at least I did healthy things.

I exercised.

I’ve always loved moving my body.

That part of me existed right alongside the smoker.

That’s what I find so interesting when I look back now.

There wasn’t an Unhealthy Peggie who one day disappeared and was replaced by Healthy Peggie.

It would make a much cleaner story if there were. So crazy.

BEFORE.

AFTER.

Throw an arrow between the two, add an inspirational quote and call it transformation.

Except that’s not what happened.

I was working out while I smoked.

I cared about my body while I smoked.

I wanted to be strong while I smoked.

I was doing things that supported my health while simultaneously doing something that absolutely did not. At all.

Both things were true.

Because humans are fucking complicated.

We want to categorize people.

Healthy.

Unhealthy.

Disciplined.

Undisciplined.

Takes care of herself.

Doesn’t take care of herself.

But most of us are walking contradictions.

You can work out five days a week and smoke.

You can eat vegetables and drink too much.

You can lift weights and sleep like shit.

You can care deeply about your health and still have habits that don’t match the person you think you want to be.

That doesn’t mean you’re a fraud.

It means you’re a human being who hasn’t changed that particular thing yet.

Then Things Started Changing

I quit smoking about 25 years ago.

That’s a long fucking time when I stop and think about it.

And quitting smoking was huge.

But I didn’t quit smoking and suddenly transform into some glowing beacon of perfect health.

I still drank.

For years.

I exercised.

I ate pretty well.

I did a lot of things we would put in the HEALTHY column.

And I drank.

Sometimes more than I should have.

Sometimes a lot more.

There were plenty of years when alcohol was simply part of my life.

Until eventually I started questioning that too.

Not immediately.

Not because someone told me I should.

Not because I suddenly became enlightened.

It took time.

Then in 2018, I quit drinking.

Another version of me changed.

Apparently I Took the Scenic Fucking Route

I didn’t wake up one morning and decide,

Today I shall become healthy.

Apparently, I took the scenic fucking route.

And I’m really glad I did.

Because now when I work with people who want to change everything RIGHT FUCKING NOW, I understand the impulse.

They want to lose the weight.

Fix their food.

Start exercising.

Drink the water.

Get eight hours of sleep.

Stop drinking.

Stop eating sugar.

Hit their steps.

Meditate.

Meal prep.

Take the supplements.

Become an entirely different human by next Tuesday.

And when they can’t do all of it at once, they decide they’re failing.

But when I look at my own life, that’s not how any of my biggest changes happened.

My health evolved.

I evolved.

One thing changed.

Then another.

Sometimes there were years between them.

And while all of that was happening, there were probably things I was doing really well and other things that made absolutely no fucking sense.

Cigarette before the workout, anyone?

We Give Ourselves So Little Room to Evolve

I think that’s what bothers me about the way we talk about health now.

There’s so much pressure to get it all right.

Eat this way.

Don’t eat that.

Train this many days.

Get this many steps.

Sleep this much.

Don’t drink.

Don’t smoke.

Don’t sit too long.

Manage your stress.

And for fuck’s sake, don’t forget your protein.

I believe in taking care of your health.

Obviously.

But I also believe people need some room to become.

Because maybe you’re doing five things right now that are making your life better and one thing that you know probably needs to change.

Maybe you know.

Maybe you’ve known for a long fucking time.

Knowing and being ready aren’t always the same thing.

That doesn’t mean we bullshit ourselves forever.

At some point, if something isn’t working for you, you have to decide what you’re going to do about it.

But change doesn’t always arrive on the day you first recognize you need it.

Sometimes recognizing it is the beginning.

I Don’t Regret the Old Versions of Me

This might be the biggest thing.

I’m not embarrassed by the woman who smoked.

I’m not ashamed of the woman who drank.

I’m not interested in standing here now and judging her with information, experience and perspective she didn’t have yet.

She was me. Flaws and all.

And she was already doing some pretty good shit.

She exercised.

She loved being strong.

She moved her body.

She cared about herself.

And yes, sometimes she finished a workout and lit a fucking cigarette.

Two things can be true.

Eventually she quit smoking.

Years later, she quit drinking.

She learned more.

She wanted different things.

She changed.

I changed.

And I’m Still Changing

That’s probably the biggest realization of all.

I’m 62 years old, and I don’t think I’ve arrived at some final version of health. It’s for life.

Thank God.

Because how boring would that be?

What health means to me now isn’t what it meant when I was 30.

It isn’t even what it meant when I was 50.

How I train has changed.

How I eat has changed.

How I think about my body has changed.

How I think about aging has changed.

What I’m willing to do to my body has changed.

And what I’m willing to do for my body has changed.

There wasn’t one big transformation.

There have been hundreds of little ones.

Quitting smoking was one.

Quitting drinking was another.

There were countless decisions before those and countless decisions after.

And there will be more. There will always be more.

Maybe that’s the part of health we need to give ourselves more credit for.

We’re allowed to evolve.

We’re allowed to look at something we’ve done for five years, ten years or twenty years and say,

Fuck this noise. I don’t want this anymore.

We’re allowed to outgrow habits.

We’re allowed to change our minds.

We’re allowed to become someone who does things differently without hating the person who did them before.

And we don’t have to change every fucking thing today.

We just have to be willing to keep paying attention.

Because health isn’t someplace I finally arrived.

It’s something I’ve kept changing my mind about.

And I have a feeling I’m not done yet.

Menopause Is Not Your Entire Personality…But It’s Easy to Think It Is

Before anyone comes for me over the terminology, I know some of the words I use here may not be the most clinically precise. I have a menopause certification. I know the proper terminology. I am using the language I hear from women every day because that is how they talk about what they are experiencing.

Now that we have that out of the way…

Menopause is weird.

One day you are living your life like a reasonably stable human being, and the next day the sound of a spoon scraping the side of a bowl makes you consider whether prison might actually be peaceful.

My husband is lucky to be alive.

The way he sets down his cup.

The way he chews.

The way he clanks the spoon around the bowl like he is mining for gold.

And my personal favorite, the way he stirs his water flavoring in a glass jar full of ice cubes.

GAWD.

Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink.

Sir.

You are in danger. I say this with humor. But, if you know, you know.

Then there are the chin hairs.

Not a cute little peach fuzz situation. I am talking about one aggressive hair that appears overnight and somehow grows to the length of a fishing line before you notice it.

And you usually notice it in the car, in direct sunlight.

Yeah.

You can’t find your reading glasses, but you can feel that chin hair from across the room.

Your body temperature has also apparently lost all ability to regulate itself.

You are freezing.

Then sweating.

Then freezing because you were sweating.

You kick the blankets off, pull them back on, take your pajamas off, put different pajamas on and spend the night wondering how your husband can sleep so peacefully while breathing that loudly.

Menopause is real.

Perimenopause is real.

The sleep disruption, mood changes, fatigue, body composition changes, brain fog and general desire to tell everyone to shut the fuck up are real.

But menopause cannot become your entire identity.

In this fucking monetization plot called menopause, menopause became the new favorite excuse for why women can’t lose weight, build muscle, feel better or change their habits. You are being targeted ladies.

It explains some things.

It does not excuse everything.

It cannot become the answer to every question.

Why aren’t you exercising?

Menopause.

Why aren’t you eating in a way that supports your goals?

Menopause.

Why have you stopped trying?

Menopause.

Why are you standing in the kitchen eating cereal directly from the box while glaring at your husband?

Okay, that one might actually be menopause. LOL

But don’t forget, you still have choices.

That is the part people do not always want to hear.

Your body may respond differently than it did ten or twenty years ago. Your recovery may require more attention (definitely me). Your sleep may need more protection (also me). You should be lifting weights instead of relying on endless cardio. You may need to eat more protein, manage your stress and stop pretending four hours of sleep and two glasses of wine are a recovery plan.

I honestly cannot imagine what this stage of life would feel like if I were still drinking.

Alcohol already messed with my sleep, recovery, energy and patience. Add menopause to that mix?

Jesus.

It would have poured gasoline on symptoms I was already trying to manage. Not fun at all.

And that is another thing we do not always want to talk about. We blame menopause for how terrible we feel while continuing to do the things that make those symptoms worse. Make it make sense.

Menopause may be part of the problem.

It may not be the whole problem.

You may have to change your approach.

In fact, you probably do need to change your approach.

That does not mean you are incapable of changing.

There is a huge difference between saying, “This is harder now,” and saying, “This is impossible for me.”

Harder is information.

But impossible is an identity.

Once you decide menopause is the reason you can’t lose weight, get stronger, improve your energy or feel better in your body, you stop looking for what you can control and you start searching for the quick fix. Newsflash, the quick fix is still bullshit, even with menopause.

But, you can control more than you think.

You stop experimenting.

You stop adjusting.

You stop taking action because you have already decided the outcome.

And listen, menopause already takes enough from us.

Our sleep.

Our patience.

Our ability to tolerate loud chewing.

We do not need to let it take our sense of control too.

You are still capable of building muscle and improving your health.

You are still capable of changing your habits, becoming stronger, more confident and more comfortable in your body.

It may require more patience than you would prefer.

It may require you to stop chasing the exact body you had at 35.

That dream needs to die.

Our bodies change. They are supposed to change. That does not mean they are ruined, and it does not mean there is nothing we can do with them now.

You are not supposed to have the exact same body forever anyway. Get over that idea that you should.

You are allowed to want change, but you also have to work with the body you have now instead of constantly punishing it for changing.

But you can change.

Menopause is part of your life.

It is not your whole personality.

You are a woman going through menopause.

You are not Menopause wearing stretchy pants and carrying tweezers.

So pluck the chin hair, turn down the thermostat and busy some earplugs.

Ask your husband to stop stirring his drink like he is performing a science experiment.

Take an honest look at the habits that might be making everything feel worse.

And then get back to the work of taking care of yourself.

Because you fucking can.

Am I Willing to Do the Work?

That’s the crux.

That’s the thing.

That’s it.

That’s the question.

The question is not, Do I want the result? Would it be nice? Do I know what I should do? Am I motivated today?

This is the real question:

Am I willing to do the work?

And the answer is yes or the answer is no.

There really isn’t an in-between.

You can negotiate the pace. You can adjust the plan. You can decide what is realistic for this season of your life. You can change the goal entirely.

And that’s all okay.

But eventually, you have to answer the question.

Are you willing to do the work this goal actually requires?

Not the work you wish it required.

Not only the parts you enjoy doing.

Not the work you do when life is calm, your schedule is perfect, and motivation has decided to bless you with its presence.

The actual work.

I have had to answer this question more times than I can count.

When I was a personal trainer, I carried a whole list of things I thought I should be.

I should look a certain way. I should be leaner. I should have more discipline. I should be the fucking example.

I knew what to do. I had the knowledge. I understood the training and the nutrition—eventually.

But knowing and doing are definitely not the same thing.

For a long time, the work came from pressure.

It came from thinking I was supposed to look a certain way because of my job. It came from believing my body was somehow evidence of whether or not I was good enough at what I did.

You see that all over social media.

It worms its way in. No doubt about that.

That kind of work never felt like a real choice.

It felt like punishment.

And punishment might get you moving for a while, but it is a shitty long-term plan.

Things started to change when I stopped asking what I should do and started asking what I actually wanted.

I really had to think about it.

I had to get out of my own fucking way and decide.

I wanted to feel strong.

I wanted to trust myself.

I wanted to train because I loved what my body could do, not because I was trying to beat it into submission.

That desire for strength had been there long before I ever became a trainer.

When I was younger, I wanted my brother’s quads.

We would run up the stairs in our house on Prospect, and I loved the definition in his legs. Mine did not look like that, and I wanted them to.

But what I really loved was the strength.

I climbed trees. I was outside constantly. I did push-ups and sit-ups during commercials while I watched TV with my dad.

I wanted to be strong before I ever thought I needed to be smaller.

And that matters.

It matters because the work feels different when it comes from something you genuinely want instead of something you think is wrong with you.

I have had to ask the same question with my businesses, Thrive Fitness and The Cycle Studio.

Owning a studio sounds exciting.

And it is.

But loving the idea of something is not the same as being willing to do the work it requires.

The work is teaching early classes.

It is programming clients, making playlists, planning rides, promoting classes, watching attendance, paying bills, cleaning up, making decisions, solving problems, and wondering whether people will show up.

It is dealing with uncertainty.

It is continuing to bring energy when I am tired.

It is showing up when the fun part is over and the responsibility part is sitting there waiting for me.

Taking over the studio meant deciding that I was willing to carry all of it. Not just the parts that look exciting from the outside.

There are days when the answer is easy.

Yes. I am willing.

There are other days when I have to remind myself that wanting the studio and wanting only the exciting parts of the studio are not the same thing.

The same is true with my own training.

I have goals. I want to keep building muscle. The Be About It crew has another photoshoot planned. I know there will eventually be a cutting phase.

But there is no magical future version of me who is going to suddenly become more committed in January.

The work for then is happening right fucking now.

It is happening in the ordinary workouts.

It is happening when there is no dramatic transformation to post.

It is happening when I eat enough, recover, train hard, repeat the basics, and allow muscle-building to be slow.

Because it is.

That’s how it works.

Nobody is clapping for most of that.

There is no instant reward.

There is just the work.

That is where people get so stuck.

They want the end result, but they have not decided whether they are willing to live the process.

They say they want to feel better, but they are not willing to go to bed earlier.

They say they want to get stronger, but they keep skipping the workouts.

They say they want change, but only if the change does not inconvenience them too much.

That does not make someone lazy, broken, or bad.

It doesn’t, and I would never say it does.

Sometimes the honest answer is simply no.

No, I am not willing to do that right now.

No, that goal is not worth the cost to me.

No, this is not the season.

No, I do not want it badly enough to rearrange my life around it.

That is allowed.

There is power in telling the truth.

What keeps people stuck is saying yes with their mouth while their choices keep saying no.

It is standing in the doorway pretending to be undecided.

It is continuing to talk about the goal, think about the goal, complain about not reaching the goal, and avoid the work attached to it.

At some point, you have to stop asking whether you could do it.

You probably could.

No doubt.

The question is whether you are willing.

Are you willing to be uncomfortable?

Are you willing to be consistent when it is boring?

Are you willing to do the part you keep avoiding?

Are you willing to stop fucking waiting for the perfect plan, the perfect week, the perfect mood, or the perfect time?

Are you willing to keep going when the result is not showing up quickly enough for you?

Are you willing?

That is the crux.

That is the thing.

That is it.

You do not need to shame yourself into a yes.

You do not need to force a goal that no longer matters to you.

You do not need to keep proving how badly you want something while refusing to participate in the process.

You just need to answer honestly.

Am I willing to do the work this goal requires?

The answer is yes.

Or the answer is no.

That honesty takes courage.

But once you tell the truth, you can finally put down all the expectations and move. That’s what I had to do in order to move forward.