My Exercise Identity Crisis: From Gym Perfectionist to Movement Explorer

I used to be someone who did CrossFit. Not someone who enjoyed movement, not someone who loved being active, someone who did CrossFit. My entire fitness identity was wrapped up in one methodology, one community, one very specific way of pushing my body to its limits.

And I was miserable.

The CrossFit Years: Love and Dysfunction

Don't get me wrong, there was so much I loved about CrossFit. The community was incredible, the kind of people who genuinely celebrated your PRs and showed up when you needed them. The workouts were challenging in ways that made me feel genuinely strong. There's something addictive about that particular brand of hard work, that moment when you finish a workout and know you've given everything.

But somewhere in all that intensity, something went sideways.

I developed the kind of disordered relationship with food that comes from viewing your body as a performance machine first and a home for your actual life second. I was tracking macros obsessively, measuring my worth by my clean and jerk numbers, and turning every meal into a calculation. The community I loved was also the place where I learned to be hypercritical of my body in entirely new ways.

I had never been more physically capable. I had also never been more disconnected from actually enjoying movement.

When Fun Became Work (Again)

Fast forward a few years, and I discovered pickleball. Finally! Something that felt like play instead of punishment. Something social and silly and genuinely enjoyable.

Until it wasn't.

Because here's what I've learned about myself: I have a tendency to take the fun out of things by making them serious. What started as casual games with friends slowly morphed into analyzing my backhand, obsessing over strategy, getting frustrated when I didn't improve fast enough. The thing that was supposed to be my escape from fitness pressure became another source of it.

That's when I realized I was doing it again: defining myself through one type of movement and expecting it to meet all my physical and emotional needs.

The Identity Crisis Moment

Standing on a pickleball court feeling stressed about a game that was supposed to be fun, I had a moment of clarity: maybe the problem wasn't finding the right type of exercise. Maybe the problem was thinking there had to be one right type at all.

What if instead of being "a CrossFitter" or "a pickleball player," I could just be someone who moves? What if I could spread my physical and emotional needs across different activities instead of expecting one thing to be everything?

Becoming a Movement Explorer

That's when I started running. Not because I wanted to become "a runner," but because I needed something that was just for me. No community expectations, no performance metrics that mattered to anyone else, no techniques to perfect or strategies to master.

Just me, my music, and the simple rhythm of one foot in front of the other.

Running became my reset button. The place where I could process thoughts, enjoy solitude, and move my body without any agenda beyond feeling good. Some days I run fast, some days I run slow, some days I walk more than I run. None of it matters beyond how it makes me feel in that moment.

Finding Balance in Variety

Here's what I've discovered: different types of movement serve different parts of me.

CrossFit still has a place in my life, I coach Wednesday morning classes and love seeing people discover their own strength. There's something beautiful about that community and methodology when it's not your entire identity. When it's one piece of a bigger movement puzzle instead of the whole thing.

Running gives me the mental space and solo time I need to stay grounded. Pickleball is where I go when I want to be social and playful (and I've gotten better at keeping it light). I've started hiking, swimming, even dancing in my kitchen while making dinner.

Each activity serves a different need, which means no single one has to be perfect or meet all my expectations.

The Anti-Perfectionist Approach

The most liberating part of this shift? I stopped trying to optimize everything. I don't need to be the fastest runner or have the perfect snatch technique or win every pickleball game. I can be mediocre at lots of things and still get tremendous value from all of them.

When one activity starts feeling too serious or stressful, I have other options. When my body needs something different, I can pivot. When life gets busy, I can choose whatever type of movement fits that day instead of forcing myself into a routine that no longer serves me.

The Bigger Lesson

This journey taught me something that extends far beyond fitness: we don't have to be defined by any single thing we do. We can be complex, multifaceted people who draw joy and fulfillment from multiple sources.

My exercise identity crisis turned out to be exactly what I needed—a breaking apart of rigid definitions that made room for something much more sustainable and genuinely enjoyable.

Now when people ask what kind of workouts I do, I say I'm a movement explorer. Some days that looks like coaching CrossFit, some days it's a long run with my favorite playlist, some days it's a silly pickleball game with friends.

All of it matters. None of it has to be everything.

And for the first time in years, I'm actually having fun.

What does your relationship with movement look like? Have you ever found yourself taking the fun out of activities you love? Share your own movement exploration stories with the GRL community.