Fitness After the Fire: Training for Life, Not Ego.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been physically active. Whether it was street basketball and karate as a kid or football and wrestling in high school, I grew up moving, sweating, and testing the limits of my body. As an adult, I gravitated toward jiujitsu, boxing, and weightlifting. Did I love doing these things for their own sake? Absolutely. But I was also chasing something more — I wanted the best physique I could achieve. I wanted to be big, strong, fast, and shredded. I wanted to look like Terrell Owens, Brock Lesnar, Dwayne Johnson — even Hercules himself.
Now in my mid-30s, I’m still active. I train because I enjoy it, and I value staying in shape. But I no longer feel the need to chase “gains” for the sake of appearance or ego. There will always be someone stronger or leaner. And while it’s healthy to compete with your past self, there’s no prize for every inch of muscle gained. At a certain point, excess fitness becomes a burden.
So what does it mean to stay in shape when you’re no longer chasing the peak?
The truth is, chasing peak performance isn’t sustainable forever. Over time, wear and tear begins to add up. I’m not saying every fitness influencer is on steroids — but let’s be real, trying to turn yourself into the Incredible Hulk just isn’t a realistic goal for most people.
Joints start to wear down. The aches and creaks increase. I speak from experience. I’ve rolled with high-level jiujitsu belts who were so stiff they could barely move. I’ve also trained with guys who were muscular but had such weak joint support that they folded like pretzels.
There’s wisdom in restraint. Knowing when to let go can be its own kind of success. I got out before it was too late — out of jiujitsu, and out of the mindset that I had to be in peak physical condition all the time. It started with the little signs: my three-point shot stopped reaching the rim because of back pain, my perfect football spiral came with shoulder aches, and the bench press started lighting up my elbow instead of my chest.
But I didn’t stop being active. I can’t imagine ever living like a couch potato. I still encourage everyone to stay physically engaged. That said, my approach has shifted. I now play sports at a lower intensity, ramping up gradually but keeping things within reason. That applies to both basketball and boxing. And I’ve built a reliable routine around simple bodyweight movements: planks and push-ups. The key here is consistency. Like clockwork.
If you’re worried about staying in shape, bodyweight exercises offer a built-in, self-regulating system. You work up to a sustainable number — let’s say, 2 minutes of planks and 40 push-ups, three times a week. That number becomes your standard. If your weight creeps up or your fitness drops, those same exercises get harder. Your body tells you what’s going on. It becomes your gauge. If I can still hit my numbers, I know I’m in shape.
Ultimately, fitness isn’t just about aesthetics or personal records. It’s about presence, maintenance, and longevity. As we age, discipline doesn’t vanish — it evolves. It shifts from pushing through that extra set, to knowing when not to.
I’m not training for a fight anymore. I’m training to not fall apart.
And I encourage all of us to take a hard look in the mirror and ask: What does being in shape mean to me? Is it about competition? Survival? Aesthetics? Functionality?
The answer will shape your journey. Just make sure it’s your answer — not your ego’s. EcudesAI