I read an article this week in the The New York Times (Visible Abs and the Millennial Midlife Crisis) about midlife and fitness. The headline leans into abs, which is the hook, but the article itself isn’t really about abs. It’s about something deeper.

The idea is that what used to be called a “midlife crisis” has changed. Instead of buying a sports car or making some dramatic life move, people now turn to fitness. They start training seriously, clean up their diet, and focus on longevity. The argument is that this isn’t just about health, but a response to aging—a way to regain control as time starts to feel more real.

I understand the point, but I think it gets it backwards.

Most people don’t take care of their body in their 20s or 30s the way they wish they had. Life is busy. Careers, kids, responsibilities. You run when you can. You eat what’s convenient. You don’t spend much time thinking about the long term.

Then something shifts. I remember looking down and realizing I couldn’t see my toes. Yikes. Nothing dramatic. Just a moment where something felt off. It wasn’t about appearance. It was a signal. A realization that I couldn’t keep treating my body the same way and expect the same result.

No one calls neglect in your 20s a crisis. No one calls inconsistency in your 30s a problem. But when someone starts taking care of themselves at 45, we label it.

From the outside, that shift can look extreme. A new training routine. Better habits. More structure. But it’s not extreme. It’s just intentional.

Getting in shape at 40 or 50 doesn’t mean something has gone wrong. In most cases, it means something finally clicked. It’s not about chasing abs or trying to look like you’re 25 again. It’s about feeling better, moving better, and being able to keep doing the things you care about for a long time.

You can call it a midlife crisis if you want. Most of the time, it’s just someone deciding they’re not done yet.

Happy running!