Why less can be more in training.

Training every day, not sleeping properly, lacking appetite or constantly thinking about food, getting sick all the time, feeling sore, rundown, and guilty for skipping a workout (or your second workout of the day) — these are all signs of overtraining. And they’re a fast road to burnout — physically and mentally.

When exercise becomes a coping mechanism

Exercise can absolutely be a powerful coping mechanism for stress and anxiety. And because it’s "healthy", society often lets it slide — it’s not illegal to spend hours at the gym. The space itself has a reputation for being good for you, a safe place.

But when does training cross the line from self-care into self-destruction?

It’s easier to identify when someone is using alcohol or drugs to cope. If you were drinking a bottle of wine every night, someone would (hopefully) step in. But overtraining? That’s harder to spot. We often don’t recognise it until, like substance abuse, it’s too late.

My story: When it all caught up with me

For me, training was a distraction. During my separation — the hardest time in my life — the only place I felt good was in the gym. So I punished myself there. Two sessions a day. As many steps as I could.

I was eating well, but not enough. I blamed my aching joints and terrible sleep on perimenopause. My body was sore. My mind was exhausted. But I kept going.

The crunch moment came when I found myself at the back of a workout, trying to be invisible, pushing through movement patterns that were literally hurting me. And in that moment, something clicked:

"What the fuck am I doing? This is not safe. You are not safe. You have to stop."
And I did.

What recovery looks like — Two years on

Two years later, I’m still feeling the effects. I don’t know if it’s my body or my mindset, but I can’t push like I used to. I’m not as explosive. I’m not as fast. I’m not as strong. I still carry niggles.

But honestly?
I’m happy not being that strong, fast, or explosive anymore.

I’ve learned to pull back. To listen to my body. To train for the right reasons. My ego is gone — and in its place is a commitment to living a good life, feeling good in my skin, and moving freely well into old age.

How I train now

Some days I XFIT.
Some days I do the LIFT program.
Some days, I scale that back even further.

Burnout isn’t a green light to be a sook — but it has taught me to scan my body every morning and ask:

• Have I slept well?

• Did I eat enough yesterday?

• Have I drunk enough water?

• How do my niggles feel?

• Will today’s programming aggravate them?

• What’s the best way to move forward — not backwards — today?

From that check-in, I make a knowledgeable decision about my training for the day and the week.

What it cost me physically

At my peak, I dropped almost 4kg and landed at 58.5kg. I was down to about 8% body fat. All muscle. No fat. Too lean. And honestly? I looked way older.

My food was incredibly clean and restrictive. Coffee was basically a food group (I’m sure that was another addiction). One of my best friends told me, after I quit the gym, that I had looked like I was on drugs that day she saw me. My eyeballs were huge — dilated with stress hormones. Cortisol and adrenaline were running the show.

Now, I sit at a much healthier 62kg. I eat foods I once thought didn’t agree with me — but they were just foreign to my body because I hadn’t let myself have them.

And guess what?
With this new balance of eating and training, I’m still happy and confident in how I look and perform.

I’ve proven to myself that I don’t need restriction or punishment to be proud of my body.
I don’t need that body — and I don’t want what it took to be there.

The lesson: Overtraining is REAL

That period in my life had to happen — it’s part of my road, my journey.

Yes, I’ve got the written knowledge and the qualifications to coach others. But I also have this. Life experience.

Overtraining is real. It is an addiction. It is a form of substance abuse. You think you’re killing it in the moment — but the reality, and the consequences, can be long-lasting and deeply damaging.

“Let this be your reminder: Less can be more.”