January rolls around every year and brings a flood of wellness marketing, fitness deals, and diet trends designed to grab our attention. No matter where I look, I spot ads begging me to join a Whole30 challenge, click a link for Keto meal-prep tutorials, grab a complimentary gym pass, scoop up half-priced supplements, sign up for parent-and-baby workout sessions, and the pitches just keep coming. None of this is necessarily harmful, though. In fact, a New Year's resolution I made four years ago nudged me through the doors of a CrossFit box (the term CrossFitters use for their gyms) for the very first time.
Looking back, I cannot pinpoint exactly what drove me to take that leap; I simply sensed that some part of my existence had drifted off course. My marriage was solid, my children were thriving, my career was rewarding, and on paper my life ticked every box of success. Yet one glaring piece refused to fall into place — my relationship with my own reflection was wrecked, and the fallout seeped into everything. I trained my gaze on the floor whenever I stepped into a bathroom, desperate to dodge the mirror hanging above the sink. I caught myself mentally measuring my frame against every woman nearby, genuinely calculating how many inches separated her body from mine. I started dodging outings with my children whenever a swimsuit might be required. And whenever my husband offered a kind word about how I looked, I instantly shot it down by zeroing in on a flaw or brushing it off with, "Well, you're obligated to say that — you're my husband!" To be fair, he owes me zero compliments about my appearance; marrying a man who offers them anyway is a genuine gift. Even the most patient partner, however, eventually tires of having every attempt at kindness rejected.
The damage did not stop with me, either. I watched the poison spread to my daughter, and she is a junior higher, so the last thing she needs is extra ammunition for the battle every tween faces about body confidence! When your mother constantly cancels plans and peels through eight to ten outfits in a row while muttering that "nothing flatters her," it becomes almost inevitable that you start auditing your own reflection the same way — and that is precisely the path my daughter began walking.
So let me take back what I wrote earlier — I knew precisely what propelled me through that gym door that first morning. I needed transformation, and not simply because I disliked the figure staring back at me in the glass. I had fallen out of love with the person I was on the inside. The endless monologue in my head dictating who I was permitted to be, what I was allowed to attempt, and what I was allowed to wear had grown unbearable, and I refused to let my daughter inherit that same exhausting fight.
Was I shaking the first time I walked into that box? Absolutely. I did it anyway, and I refused to stop. I kept showing up, session after session. Today I can share that I have shed three pants sizes, outlift my own bodyweight on most Olympic lifts, sustain a run past the seven-minute mark (a feat that felt impossible when I began), competed in more than ten events, and can power through nearly every movement programmed in a standard workout. The victory that matters most, however, lives in what my daughter has witnessed. She has watched her mother move with strength, project confidence, and feel at home in her own skin. She has spent time inside a sport where physiques span every shape and size, and where each athlete shines in some areas while struggling in others. She has observed how the women with the thickest thighs rack up the most impressive strength jumps. She has cheered on fierce, gorgeous women as they coaxed their bodies past limits they once thought unreachable — and then rallied behind other women to chase the same breakthrough. She has learned that a body is far more than what jeans reveal on the outside; it is a capable, stunning machine regardless of size, crafted exactly the way its Maker designed it.
I first walked into CrossFit chasing a better reflection in the mirror. I keep showing up to CrossFit because I am a mother. I happen to believe CrossFit works for almost anyone, but if CrossFit is not your speed, then let this January be the spark that helps you uncover whatever activity is. Pursue it not only for your own sake, but for the little pair of eyes observing your every move!
Meet Jenny J
Jenny is firmly convinced that Houston stands as the finest city anywhere on the globe, which explains why she has never strayed far from it! She crossed paths with her high school sweetheart Chad, tied the knot, and then expanded their crew by three kids (carried the old-fashioned way) plus one more child (welcomed through adoption), all without ever leaving this incredible metropolis. Jenny clocks in full-time as the Executive Pastor at Real Hope Community Church, and she is completely smitten with the work! During whatever scraps of downtime she can scrounge up, she throws herself into CrossFit sessions and marathons Netflix shows — typically not simultaneously, though she admits that combination would be glorious! She also harbors a quirky fascination with presidential libraries and with people mastering the proper use of your versus you're. You can keep up with Jenny at www.jennydayjones.com and follow her on Twitter and Instagram @jennyjones76.
