Getting Back Into Fitness as a Retired Athlete Is More Daunting Than I Expected

I used to train for six hours a day.

As an elite athlete and competitive swimmer, movement used to be a huge part of my identity. My body knew how to perform even when it was tired. My brain knew how to push through discomfort. I knew what it felt like to train toward a goal, compete, and expect excellence from myself.

Then I retired.

Years passed, my life changed, and I became more sedentary. I had work, responsibilities, relationships, and an entirely different version of myself to take care of. Fitness was no longer something automatically built into my schedule. When I finally started finding my way back to movement, I learned that returning to fitness as a retired athlete could be incredibly daunting.

People might assume that former athletes can simply bounce back. They might think that because we used to be strong, fast, or competitive, getting fit again should come naturally. But remembering what your body used to be able to do can sometimes make starting again even harder.

For a while, I was punishing myself during workouts. I would feel sad and frustrated because I could not do the things I used to be able to do. I would compare my current body to the body that trained for six hours a day. I expected myself to move, perform, and recover like I was still an elite athlete.

But why was I putting that much pressure on myself?

I am no longer the person who has to train for six hours a day. That is not my life anymore. I have other responsibilities now. I have work, relationships, creative projects, and an entirely different schedule. Why was I still expecting myself to perform the same way?

Maybe I can reach that level again in the future. I am not closing myself off from that possibility. But I also have to accept that I am a new person now, and this version of me deserves a new approach to fitness. I do not have to punish myself for changing. I have to learn how to work with the body I have today.

On July 11, 2026, I attended the WFA Hybrid Games at Ommo Athletica, organized by Womens Fitness Asia.

We had to complete a beginner friendly version of HYROX, which included different strength and endurance exercises. This was not my first workout since returning to fitness, but I am still at the beginning of this new era. I am still rebuilding my strength, confidence, and relationship with movement.

Walking into the event felt initially intimidating.

They were very accomodating, so it's not their fault. To be honest, I am a very tall woman, and I often feel like people notice me immediately. I worried that everyone was looking at me. I thought people might be judging what I could or could not do. There were so many expectations running through my head, including my own.

But once we started, something changed. I realized that most people were simply minding their own business. They were focused on their own workouts, their own breathing, and their own next repetition. Some of them were even cheering me on. At one point, I heard someone in the crowd say, “Oh, she is so strong.”

That small comment helped me more than they probably realized. (I'm not even sure if it was directed to me.) There was a moment during the workout when all I could tell myself was, “Just try to get through this burpee.” Not the entire workout. Just this burpee.

I started realizing that I could actually do it. I just had to manage what I could do without injuring myself. My brain kept encouraging my body.

"Do this one. If you are tired, stop. Catch your breath. Then try again."

I pushed myself as much as I safely could, but I also allowed myself to rest. I was not forcing my body to prove anything. I was listening to it while still reminding myself that I was capable of more than my fear was telling me. My mind and body were connecting in a way they had not in a long time. Instead of my mind criticizing my body, it was finally encouraging it.

I was incredibly thankful to be surrounded by people who were rooting for me.

Coach Raissa, who was my swimming senior and teammate back at De La Salle University, was one of the coaches at the event. She was such a sweet and encouraging coach, and I was so happy that she was there for this part of my journey. There was something special about having someone from my life as an athlete witness me becoming active again in a completely different way.

I was also joined by my Shine community for the event. Ate Jobelyn, Ate Thet, my sister Casey, Casey’s friend Andrea, and our new friend April were all there.

They created an environment where I did not feel judged. Their energy was simple and supportive. Do what you can. -- Rest when you need to. That support helped me get over the initial fear. By the end, I felt so happy and proud of myself. I was proud because I showed up and tried.

One of the biggest lessons I am learning is that movement does not have to be perfect to count.

If you cannot do an hour of exercise, try 30 minutes.

If you cannot do 30 minutes, try 15.

If you cannot do 15 minutes, take a 10 minute walk.

If you cannot walk for 10 minutes, try five.

If five minutes feels impossible, just stand up.

That can be enough.

Your brain might congratulate you because you stood up and did something more than you did before. Or you might think, “I am already standing, so I might as well move for one minute.”

After one minute, you might realize you can do two. After two minutes, you might decide to keep going until five. The point is not to do everything immediately. The point is to begin.

I am trying to unlearn the perfectionism I developed as an elite athlete. Back then, everything felt like it had to be perfect. I had to perform well. I had to win. I had to be number one.

Now, I am learning that I do not always have to be the best. Sometimes, I just have to be. I just have to try. I just have to start.

The WFA Hybrid Games and the previous events they hosted has reminded me that getting back into fitness does not have to mean becoming the person I was before. It can mean meeting the person I am now and discovering what she is capable of, one burpee, one breath, and one small beginning at a time.