Yesterday, I did something I never thought I’d pull off. I finished Open Workout 25.2 ‘in 11:36 RX and under the time cap—a workout from the CrossFit Open, no less—in what I’d call a pretty competitive time for a normal human. For someone who’s been doing CrossFit for over a decade, I’d built up this mental picture of what I could and couldn’t do. I’d convinced myself I was too old to stay competitive, too tall and heavy to be fast enough, and too banged up to keep pushing. I had a whole list of excuses that kept me boxed in.

Last year’s Open changed that. I surprised myself—I did okay, especially for my age category (Masters, 40-45)—and it lit a fire in me. I actually enjoyed it, and more than that, I realized I wasn’t done yet. So, I made a decision: I’d give it another real shot. I zeroed in on a couple of weaknesses that have always tripped me up (and still do, if I’m honest) and committed to improving them. Consistency became my focus—training five times a week, which works for me and my competitive goals. For someone else, that might be three or four days, but the point is showing up and doing the work.

The first six months were a grind. I was battling little injuries—a tendinopathy in my right tricep/lat insertion that killed pull-ups for three months, and another in my right glute stopping me from squatting. I’ve had a knack for tendon issues over my 12 years of CrossFit, usually from overuse and skimping on recovery but I’ve learned they’re fixable with time and targeted rehab. Leading into last year’s Affiliate Team competition, those niggles were still nagging me, but three months out, I decided they wouldn’t define me. I doubled down on rehab, healed both, and went into that comp strong. I even hit a 150kg clean close to my all-time max, a weight I thought I’d never touch again. Of course, I tweaked my left hip in the process, but that’s a familiar dance by now. Rehab’s been slow, but steady.

Through all of this—rehabbing, modifying movements, scaling back when I had to—I kept showing up. I was okay with doing things at less than max effort because I knew it gave my body space to heal while still building momentum. Now, I’m at a point where I can handle 90-minute to two-hour sessions, five days a week. My old injuries? Mostly gone. That left hip tendinopathy from the Affiliate Cup is about 85% healed. I’m squatting heavy again with almost no issues, lifting big, and feeling stronger every week. Consistency’s been the key—especially as a FIFO worker in the Masters age bracket, where I’d convinced myself my body would just give up and I’d never look or perform the same.

And yet, here I am, proving every one of those thoughts wrong. I thought I’d never finish a thruster workout in the Open—did it yesterday. I built my strict handstand push-ups from under eight in 4:00 to 8 unbroken, a huge win for a 6’4”, 108 kg guy. I equaled my max strict press at 90 kg the other day, and I’m betting my strength lifts will climb higher over the next six months. All this while getting fitter and, yeah, aging up.

It’s funny how the mental patterns I’d built were the real roadblocks. That inner voice saying, You’re too old to compete. You’re too injured. You’ll never be good at strict handstand push-ups because your levers are too long and you’re too heavy. You’re just a power athlete—you can’t get fitter. Over these past few months, I’ve dismantled every one of those lies. Finishing 25.2 wasn’t just a workout win—it was proof I’d been holding myself back.

I started writing this just to celebrate that moment, but it’s turned into something bigger. We’re all human. We all get in our own way. So, I’ll leave you with this: What are you telling yourself you can’t do? Because we’re capable of so much more than we think, and most of what stops us is us. Yesterday’s win reminded me of that. Maybe it’s time to check what’s holding you back, too.