Hi Reader,

I want to share something personal that drives my work.

I was a Division I swimmer. From the age of 8, I spent nearly every day in a pool.

And then I didn't swim a single lap for fifteen years.
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This wasn't laziness or a busy schedule. It was a complicated reckoning with what movement had meant to me — performance, discipline, even a way to keep my body a certain size — and the slow work of figuring out what it could mean instead.

Last week I made the case for resistance training, and I meant every word of it. Movement matters in midlife, and the research is clear on that.

But today I want to talk to the woman who got to the end of that email and felt her stomach sink, because the "lift heavy" conversation is just one more item on a list of things she already feels guilty about not doing. IYKYK.

For many of us who grew up in the 80s and 90s, our relationship with exercise was shaped by some genuinely damaging messages: the stairmaster lines, the 30-minute minimum rules, the idea that the gym was primarily a place to shrink your body and burn off what you'd eaten. Weights were "for the guys." Cardio was for us, and the goal, underneath it all, was to burn calories to make our bodies smaller.

So many women I work with are still living in the wreckage of that era. They feel guilty for not exercising, but when they try to push through that guilt, they last a week or two before stopping again, and the cycle repeats. Year after year.

I'd like to share a different perspective: there is a meaningful difference between being stuck in guilt and paralysis, and making an intentional decision to pause.

Guilt and paralysis look like this: the word "should" is running in a loop in your head all day; you feel bad about yourself; nothing changes; and you carry that burden into the following week and the week after that.

In contrast, an intentional pause looks like this: you acknowledge that your relationship with movement is complicated; you give yourself permission to step back; and you use that space to get curious about what exercise has meant to you, why it has felt like punishment, and what you might actually want it to feel like instead.

Pushing through without the internal work keeps you stuck in a never-ending cycle. (Perhaps your experience has shown you that?) It can feel counterintuitive to intentionally "stop trying harder." Even though it seems radical, hitting the pause button to delve into that curiosity is actually more effective.

Because on the other side of that work, you get to redefine what movement means in a way that supports your body instead of fighting against it. That might look like a Saturday morning walk you actually look forward to, or a dance class, or a first surfing lesson in a wetsuit in the Pacific Ocean at 55. (Ask me how I know.)

This is some of the most meaningful work I do with clients — helping women untangle decades of complicated history with their bodies and with movement, and find their way to something that actually feels sustainable and supportive of their goals.

If any of this resonates, reach out for a complimentary Midlife Nutrition Conversation to learn what having professional support and guidance could look like for you.

Or simply reply to this email. I read every response.

Warmly,

Kelly

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Kelly Abramson MS, RD | MSCP | Gut Health Specialist​
Menopause Society Certified Practitioner
Nutrition support for women in perimenopause and menopause
​KellyAbramsonRD.com​

P.S. If you're navigating a complicated relationship with exercise, here's an article you might enjoy: 7 Simple Ways Exercise Can Make You Happy

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