For most of my life, I thought fitness was about control—controlling my body, my schedule, my output. As a high school and college athlete, working out was a constant, not for aesthetic reasons, but to push my body to the breaking point. That was part of my winning strategy. I was the queen of “never miss a Monday,” measuring success by how perfectly I could stick to a plan. From the outside, I looked disciplined. But inside, I was exhausted.
