Why I Keep Moving, Even When I Want to Quit

Movement isn’t just something I do. It’s part of who I am. But that doesn’t mean it’s always easy. I’ve hit rock bottom more times than I can count, and each time, it’s been movement that pulled me back up.

I was an athlete before I was a mom, but having three kids in 3.5 years knocked me so far off the wagon, I barely recognized myself. I went to struggling through 15-minute jogs. I had plantar fasciitis in both feet—probably from pushing a double stroller like I was competing in some kind of extreme momathlon—and my body felt like it had forgotten how to move. I was out of shape, frustrated, and exhausted.

But here’s the thing: movement has always been my therapy. My way of pressing the reset button, shaking off the stress, and reconnecting with myself. It’s my way of reminding myself that I’m still here, still strong, still capable.

Sometimes movement meant walking around the house with baby bundled up pulling him on a sled.

Your Perspective Can Either Be Your Power - Or Your Prison

I’ll never forget the day I showed up at the gym with my hair barely brushed, bags under my eyes, and my toddler’s snot on my sleeve. I must have looked like I was limping through a war zone, but I still showed up. My PT, Nick, was waiting for me, and the thought of wasting money by flaking on a session got me moving. Sometimes, it’s the smallest motivations that get you out the door. And you know what? I never regretted a single workout, no matter how hard it was to get there.

Your perspective can be vastly different from the person with you. Isn't this a powerful note to remind us all that even at your hardest days, you are still someone else's light?

I wasn’t always a cheerful one-legged woman, but damn, I got there.

And here’s the thing about movement—it’s not just a physical act. It’s a reclamation. It’s proof that you’re still in there, beneath the spit-up and the exhaustion, a fierce, capable woman who refuses to be defined by fatigue.

Jumping All-In – Now or Never

In 2017, I signed up for my first-ever 70.3 (half) Ironman. I had no idea what I was doing. I just knew I needed a goal, something bigger than my day-to-day grind of wiping noses and breaking up sibling fights. I needed to feel like an athlete again, like a woman who could push her limits and still stand tall at the end of the day.

my reason, my why. my kids.

Stoked and carefully proud of myself

My first long distance kit

70.3 Ironman Victoria 2017: my first longer distance event, finished 6:12, 36th stoked that I had made it to the start line. Crossing finish line was a bonus!

The race itself was a mix of grit and grace, a long, lonely slog that had me questioning my sanity. My cheer squad had car trouble, and as I pushed through the bike leg and the run, I strained to hear their voices, but they never came. I crossed that finish line alone, soaked in sweat and mixed emotions, and stumbled into the transition area feeling both victorious and empty.

And then I saw them—my kids, my husband, my reason for fighting my way back to fitness—playing at a nearby playground. They had come. They just missed the moment by minutes. I sobbed, overwhelmed by a mix of exhaustion, pride, and pure, unfiltered love.

That day, I proved to myself that I still had guts. That even though I was a tired mom, I could still show up, still fight, still push myself to the edge and come back stronger. It reminded me that movement is more than just sweat and muscle—it’s a declaration of resilience.

It’s my way of refusing to disappear into the fog of exhaustion and self-doubt.

Movement for Moms

So if you’re feeling stuck, if you’ve lost that fire, if you can barely remember the last time you felt strong, maybe it’s time to move again. Maybe it’s time to find your fire. MOMentum is a good place to start—a supportive, science-backed program that helps you reclaim your strength, one rep at a time.

Ready to move? Join MOMentum. True movement for moms. Let’s get strong, together.

With fire and grit,

MJ

PS. Follow me on Substack where I write both short notes and longer, more science-filled musings abou training in motherhood and beyond.