There are times when everything feels just a little off. Clothes might fit a bit tighter, energy levels dip, and the body that once felt so reliable seems to be operating on a different rhythm altogether. For me, dealing with a running injury has brought all these feelings to the forefront, shifting not just my routine but also how I feel about food, my body, and what “progress” even looks like right now. It’s a reminder of how closely everything is connected and how quickly a single change can ripple through the rest of your life.

As I navigate this experience, I find myself coming face-to-face with old fears. Fears around weight gain, calories, and even the familiar whispers of disordered eating habits that I thought were long behind me. There’s a certain discomfort in noticing that, despite all the work I’ve done, there’s still a part of me that equates movement with control and food with something that must be “earned.” When I’m not able to exercise the way I’m used to, it’s as if these thoughts creep back in, reminding me of how deeply ingrained they are and how easy it is to let them take over.

It’s uncomfortable, facing these pieces of myself that I thought I’d moved beyond. It’s humbling, too, to recognize how easily body dysmorphia can resurface in times of vulnerability. I’ve been finding myself looking in the mirror, scrutinizing changes, as though my worth could somehow be measured by what I see or don’t see. But I’m learning that maybe this setback is less about what I can’t do and more about what I still need to face, acknowledge, and heal.

So much of my life has been about moving forward, building momentum, and using activity as a way to shape my days and even define my identity. Slowing down has stirred up emotions that, on the surface, seem tied to my physical body, but run so much deeper. Beneath the surface, I realize this is also about self-worth, acceptance, and allowing myself to be enough—whether I’m running, healing, or just being.

This journey isn’t what I planned, and it’s not without its difficult moments. But I’m coming to understand that growth doesn’t always look like I expected. Sometimes it’s messy, uncomfortable, and far from perfect. Yet there’s value in honoring the body and mind exactly as they are—even when they don’t align with what I’d like them to be. Each day of this journey, even the challenging ones, holds an invitation to embrace the present moment, imperfections, and all.

So, here’s to the grace in the discomfort and the quiet strength in simply allowing things to unfold. Here’s to the journey of learning, of showing up as we are, and discovering that this, too, is progress.

Are you navigating your own journey of growth and healing? Know that you’re not alone in this journey. If you’re looking for compassionate support as you reconnect with your body and find peace with food, I’m here to walk with you. Let’s take it one step at a time—together.