I’ve always considered myself relatively fit. I played all sorts of sports for many years: squash, hockey, cycling, running, even BMX racing when I was much younger. So when I recently found myself out of shape, it felt like a bit of a jolt. The decline wasn’t sudden. It crept in slowly through minor injuries, missed workouts, and that classic excuse of “life getting in the way.” But deep down I know keeping fit is part of life not separate from it.
A few weeks ago I decided to get back into shape ahead of the new rugby season in September. I didn’t launch straight into a race or full-on training, I knew better than that. Instead, I gave myself a couple of weeks to build back up gradually. Some gentle runs, some consistency, just getting used to moving again. Then, once I felt ready, I lined up for my first Parkrun in years.
It was tough, surprisingly so. Despite starting near the back and going at a really easy pace (compared to my past efforts), I was out of breath early, legs heavy, rhythm gone. My time was well off my personal best from ten years ago. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Fitness fades, and I’m not exactly getting younger, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept. As Jeff Olson says in The Slight Edge, success is easy to do but also easy not to do, and for too long, I’d been in the “not to do” camp.
Still, I didn’t let that dismay turn into defeat. Two weeks later, I returned to Parkrun and ran a significantly faster time. Not back to peak levels, but a big chunk off nonetheless and enough to show progress was possible. That single improvement gave me a lift. It reminded me that although coming back can be humbling, it can also be very rewarding.
One thing struck me. At peak performance, progress is measured in fine margins. You’re trying to shave off seconds here and there, but when you’re rebuilding, improvements can come quickly, almost in chunks. There’s actually a name for this: diminishing returns. The better you get, the harder it is to improve, but early on, small efforts can create big changes.
That’s a comforting truth when you’re starting again. You’re not back at square one. You’re simply at a point where progress is visible and motivating if you choose to see it that way.
The key is to start with a clear target, set a plan, and then commit to the process. Not a heroic all-in-for-two-weeks burst. That usually ends in injury or burnout. What works is consistency. A sensible, progressive routine. One that your body can adapt to and your mind can stick with.
Every run, every rep, every decision to move rather than make excuses counts. They compound over time. When I look at the numbers – my improved Parkrun time, how much better I felt the second time round – I can’t help but feel encouraged. It’s a reminder that the work pays off, even if the gap between where you are and where you were feels daunting at first.
So if you’re in the same boat, coming back from time out, injury, or just feeling stuck, don’t let the gap scare you. See it for what it is: a space filled with opportunity. Set your goal, trust the plan, and keep showing up. The comeback might just become your best chapter yet.
Patrick Hickman 