I was halfway through a grueling set of deficit deadlifts, straps tight, quaking under a barbell loaded with enough weight to make a powerlifter nod in respect. My form was starting to slip—a subtle curve in my lower back, my breath held hostage in my chest.
Here is where the mindset shift happens.
For a long time, I hated it. I’m 28 years old. I have a mortgage, a 401(k), and a tattoo. I shouldn’t be parented by a woman who brings me protein muffins and texts me "Did you stretch?" with a winking emoji.