Two roads diverged in the gym one day,
And fearful I could no longer squat,
As I had before, I stood dismayed
As I stared at weights in their vast array
My mind awash in thought.
Then tried a lunge, as fair a route,
And maybe more my body’s pace,
Because my back had cried out loud—
Though truth be told, with time and weight,
Both paths had left a worthy trace,
And post workout I calmly lay
With legs a-jello’ed, and quite the burn
Oh, I’d come back to squats someday!
But knowing how plans shift and sway,
I worried less about the return.
Two roads diverged—and though,
The tempting road, heavy and intense:
I took the one I did not know,
and it allowed me room to grow,
And that has made all the difference.
(Apologies to Robert Frost, who is no doubt doing burpees in his grave.)
We all know that poem. Or at least, we know the vibe: two paths, a choice, a little reflection. Misty forest visuals and quiet nostalgia.
Lately I’ve been thinking about it in the context of fitness—how people find their “path,” and more importantly, how hard it can be to change it once it’s no longer working.
Because most of us start with something that does work. Maybe it’s CrossFit, maybe it’s running, maybe it’s jiu-jitsu, or pickup soccer, or walking with a weighted vest while listening to Navy SEALs yell motivational quotes into our ears. (Hopefully it’s not that.)
You find a thing. You show up. You get stronger, faster, more confident. It becomes part of your identity.
But then life shows up too. You get injured. Your job schedule shifts. You age, your joints ache, your priorities change. Suddenly the path that used to get you where you wanted to go isn’t taking you there anymore—or worse, it’s actively making things harder.
And here’s where people get stuck.
Because it worked once, right? So we keep bulling forward, trying to recreate that earlier success by sheer force. We think, If I just push harder. If I just get more disciplined. If I just make time…
But sometimes, the issue isn’t your effort. It’s the path. And that’s where a shift in perspective can be everything.
Let’s take a squat, for example.
It’s a great movement. Builds leg strength, core stability, total-body control. It’s a cornerstone of strength training for a reason. But it’s not the only way to get strong legs. And if squatting’s not feeling good—if it’s jacking up your knees, or your back, or you just dread doing it—it’s okay to look for another road.
Because unless you’re competing in a sport that requires specific movements, most of the exercises we do in the gym are just tools. They’re vehicles. Roads. The goal isn’t to become a Squat Person or a Rowing Machine Person. The goal is to feel better, get stronger, move well, and live life without pain.
So if one road is temporarily (or hell, permanently) closed—or bumpy, or washed out—it’s not failure to change course. It’s just smart navigation.
I’ve actually found a lot of joy in thinking about fitness this way.
Instead of asking “what program should I follow?” I ask: Where am I trying to go? What’s the destination? Is it better endurance? Stronger legs? Feeling confident with my shirt off at the river? Moving pain-free in the morning?
Once I know that, I can work backward. I map out all the roads that might take me there. I cross off the ones I know I don’t recover well from. I avoid the routes that seem to cause issues elsewhere. And yeah, sometimes I skip the ones I just plain don’t like. It’s not laziness. It’s longevity.
Instead of being an exercise in self-abnegation it has been kind of fun. I treat myself like a puzzle that I need to solve, I search for the pieces that fit, I try them out, see if they work, and if one doesn’t fit right, I go back to the box for a new one. (Ok, I think I’m stretching the metaphors-per-essay limit.)
The point is, the path that works for you might not look like anyone else’s, or even like the path you’ve taken to get to this point. That’s okay. That’s the game.
So, here’s the question: are you still charging down the same old road, even though it doesn’t feel right anymore?
Are you stuck doing the things that used to work, even if they don’t anymore?
You can do this alone (especially if you like intense, poetic self-reflection,) but often having a coach can help—not just to give you workouts, but to act as a guide. Someone who helps you step back, reorient, and look at the map with fresh eyes. That’s exactly what we do in our Individual Program Design at Lumos.
We start with the destination. Your destination. Then we help you find the smoothest, most enjoyable, most sustainable road to get there. One that actually fits your body, your schedule, your life.
It might not look like what you’ve done before. It might even feel weird at first to leave the old road behind. But sometimes, the road not taken really does make all the difference.
And we’d love to walk it with you.
