The Movement Before the Workout

Lately, I’ve stopped chasing better numbers. I’m chasing something earlier. Something I felt in my body long before I had a plan or performance goals.

I don’t want to train.
Not like that.

Not another perfect set. Not another “glute activation” warm-up.
Not another week where progress is measured by a graph.

I just want to move.
Like I used to.

When I was a kid, I didn’t think about mechanics or macros.
I climbed because I could.
I ran because it felt fast.
I jumped because something was in the way.
And I crawled — not because it was functional, but because I was alive in my body.

There was no mirror.
No stats.
No music.
Just instinct.

Now? Most of what we call fitness feels like trying to outsmart the body instead of being in it.

The older I get, the more I crave the opposite of optimization.
I don’t want smarter workouts. I want wider ones. Looser. Lived-in.

No fixed planes. No numbered plates.
Just floor space and friction.

I want to hang from bars until my grip gives out.
Sprint barefoot. Crawl through grass.
Feel my shoulders burn, not in perfect tempo, but in real time.

And when I finish, I don’t want a dopamine spike from an app.
I want the quiet fatigue that tells me: I used everything.

Lately, my workouts don’t look like much.
Push, pull, carry, climb, rest.
Sometimes barefoot. Sometimes shirtless.
Always outside if I can manage it.

There’s no warm-up because the movement warms me.
There’s no playlist because my breath is loud enough.
There’s no data because I’m not training a robot.

I’m just trying to remember.
Not how to perform —
How to be in my body again.

You can keep the perfect reps.
I’ll take the messy ones that feel like truth.

Because before I wanted to be strong,
I just wanted to move.