Most people walk into a gym with a goal.
They say things like:
- “I want to lose weight.”
- “I want to get strong again.”
- “I want to run a 5K without stopping.”
- “I want to be healthy.”
These are great goals. They’re clear, achievable, and motivating… for a while.
But here’s the problem: goals don’t last.
They get buried by life — by your work schedule, your kids’ practices, your overflowing to-do list, and the sheer mental fatigue of being an adult. And when that happens, your goal becomes something you once cared about, not something you’re actively working toward.
So what do you need instead?
You need a WHY.
Listen to the most recent episode of “Ranting With Rich” about this exact topic!
Goals Start the Fire. Your WHY Keeps It Burning.
Your goal is your starting line.
Your why is your fuel.
A goal is external.
A why is internal.
Your goal might be to lose 20 pounds — but your why is to feel confident again in front of your kids, to be able to play soccer in the yard without getting winded, to avoid the health issues that run in your family.
The difference matters.
When someone tells me they want to lose weight, I don’t stop there. I ask:
How much?
By when?
And most importantly — why?
If your answer is just, “I want to be healthy,” we need to go deeper.
Why do you want to be healthy?
Who are you doing this for?
What’s at stake if you don’t?
I’ve Lost My Why Before — And It Cost Me
I’ve been training hard for almost two decades. My original why was clear: Compete. Win. Qualify for Regionals.
But when I stopped chasing the podium, I lost direction.
I’ve fallen off the wagon more than once.
A few years ago, jiujitsu brought the fire back. I was chasing improvement again.
Then, life shifted again.
Avalyn was born. We had two boys in school, sports schedules, and a gym to run.
Workouts got cut. My desire to compete faded.
My goal wasn’t enough anymore — and I didn’t have a strong why to keep me moving.
And then something happened that slapped my new WHY right in front of me.
Sometimes Life Slaps Down Your Why
Recently, my youngest cousin — someone I consider a little brother — was diagnosed with a serious illness. He’s young, strong, and fighting hard. But it shook me. It forced me to reflect on my own life, my own health, and how fragile all of this really is.
I’ve said before: We’d do anything for the people we love.
But would you live better for them?
We say we’d die for our kids.
But would you meal prep for them?
Would you train three times a week to stay strong enough to carry them to bed?
Would you stretch or walk or get your bloodwork done — not for you, but for them?
Your loved ones don’t just want your sacrifices.
They want your presence.
Think Long-Term: What Kind of Parent Do You Want to Be?
When Avalyn graduates high school, I’ll be 54.
When she graduates college, I’ll be pushing 60.
If we have more kids, I’ll be even older at their big milestones.
That’s my why now.
I want to walk my daughter down the aisle.
I want to be at my son’s jiujitsu belt promotion.
I want to be the strong, healthy parent who doesn’t just survive, but shows up.
Skipping workouts and eating junk might feel fine today — but what kind of shape will I be in when it matters most?
Find Your WHY, and the Gym Will Make Sense Again
You don’t have to train like a savage.
You don’t need to eat grilled chicken every meal.
But you do need a reason to care — a reason that runs deeper than looking good or fitting into old jeans.
And that reason — your WHY — has to be strong enough to survive everything life throws at you.
So today, take a second and ask yourself:
- Why do I want to be healthy?
- Who needs me at my best?
- What do I want to be able to do at 60 that I’ll regret skipping at 40?
Final Thoughts
If you’re reading this, say a prayer for my cousin. He’s in the fight, and he’s not alone. But your thoughts, your energy, your faith — it all helps.
And if you’re struggling to stay consistent, maybe now’s the time to dig deeper.
Set your goals — yes.
But build your why like your life depends on it.
Because it just might.
Keep training.
Keep improving.
And I’ll see you at the gym.
— Rich