I’ve been using exercise like most people use drugs. Not a metaphor—literally. Back when I was nineteen, I swapped prescriptions for training. It worked. It carried me for years. But now at forty, with more stress, more responsibilities, and a recovery curve that isn’t what it used to be, the side effects started catching up: trash sleep, joints barking, and that 3 a.m. wide awake and pissed off about it routine.
I cut back. At first, it felt like failure. Then I got better. Sleep improved, joints calmed down, and I finally admitted to myself that my work capacity outpaced my ability to recover at this life stage.
If you’re the type who never skips workouts, who brags about training sick or injured, this one’s for you. You don’t need another “no excuses” pep talk. You need to learn the idea of a recoverable dose. Because if every session feels “hard enough,” you’re probably already doing too much.
