Rest & be thankful

I was guilty of overtraining when I was younger. I’d turn up for a boxing fight-camp session with John having already done a circuit training session, then a 2-hour Muay Thai session. My cycle to work was an hour each way, and after I got home, I’d head straight back out to do an hour-long circuit class followed by a spin class. Being single, I had the time and energy to get away with it.

What could I have achieved if I’d taken recovery as seriously as I took training? Making weight would have been easier. I would have been stronger. Perhaps the fights in which I under-performed would have had different results.

Now at 41, I love the fact that I have to rest. If I overtrain, I’ve got no energy for the kids or work. There’s no chance of surviving a sparring session with some of the upcoming boxers at the gym without recovering properly first. And actually, that’s great. Rest isn’t something I feel guilty about anymore—it’s part of being able to perform when I need to.

Bertrand Russell wrote in The Conquest of Happiness (1930) that:

“One of the symptoms of approaching nervous breakdown is the belief that one’s work is terribly important, and that to take a holiday would bring all kinds of disaster.”

Back then, there were no Apple Watches or fitness gadgets. If you swap a few words—replace work with exercise and holiday with rest—the message still holds up.

A common mistake in health and fitness is to believe that more is always better. There is a balance—too little is unhealthy, but so is too much. Most people recognise the risks of doing too little. But doing too much is less obvious.

It often starts as an all-or-nothing mindset: more training, more classes, more discipline, more optimisation. More trackers—steps, heart rate, sleep, calories, HRV, blood oxygen, glucose, stress, training load, recovery scores, mood, hydration, screen time, air quality, noise, and menstrual cycle tracking.

Then come the reminders: stand up every hour, take screen breaks, drink water, meditate, breathe, get daylight, wind down before sleep.

When everything is measured, the focus shifts from why we do these things to the numbers themselves. We start chasing improved scores rather than the original purpose—better health, improved performance, or long-term adaptation.

Left unchecked, that pursuit can lead to burnout: illness, injury, plateauing or regression, weight change away from the goal, anxiety, stress, shame, loss of motivation, and guilt.

After a week of extra work shifts plus daily gym sessions, a recent client asked me, “How do I get fitter? “I answered with one word ‘rest’. Recovery is vital. That is where improvement happens. Training provides the stimulus. Recovery allows the body to adapt.

Muscles do not develop while lifting weights, and VO₂ max does not improve during the session itself. They improve afterwards. Hard training challenges the muscles, but it also taxes the nervous system, co-ordination, and concentration.

In boxing, this is obvious. Hitting pads, doing footwork drills, or sparring while exhausted is counter-productive. Timing disappears, reactions slow, and decision-making becomes harder. When fatigue accumulates, sharpness goes—something that’s obvious to see.

Part of the problem is that action feels productive, even when it isn’t. Tracking 10k steps a day is useful for general health. But it quickly becomes 12k, then 16k, layered on top of an already full training week.

An extra workout gives immediate satisfaction, even if the quality is poor. Recovery, on the other hand, has delayed benefits. That makes it harder to value—and easier to neglect.

Professional boxers operate differently. Their job is performance. They must train across all areas: strength, fitness, agility, flexibility, power, footwork, speed, and technical skill. Each session has a purpose, and nothing is done without intent.

For example, a session designed to improve ring fitness only works if the athlete is capable to perform it. Ten rounds of technical sparring require the mind to be sharp enough to learn, react, and adapt. A sparring session will never be placed on the same day as a sprint session, because the recovery will never be long enough.

But crucially, their training is structured around recovery. The schedule will include lighter and heavier weeks, with a taper before fights. Boxers are rarely in camp year-round, and once fighting beyond eight-round bouts, they may only compete two or three times per year.

That is a different reality.

Look at Ana—Coach Ana! Have you seen her fight? At 42, she’s relentless and always a tough spar. But Ana will tell you the same thing: rest and recovery are non-negotiable.

Don’t get me wrong—Ana and I can still perform when we need to. We just know that recovery is part of what allows us to do it.

Of course we all have life stresses: work deadlines, commuting, financial pressures, family responsibilities, and poor sleep. The body does not separate these stressors into categories. Stress is stress. The body does not distinguish between deadlifts and deadlines. Finding balance is what allows long-term adaptation. Recovery is essential.

Consistency always beats volume. The most effective approach is one that can be sustained for years, not weeks:

• Strength training 2–4 times per week
• Regular walking and general movement
• Cardio or boxing 2–4 times per week
• Adequate sleep and recovery

Recovery does not always mean doing nothing. It simply means there is no performance target attached. It is not a reward—it is a scheduled part of training, like eating, working, or exercising.

I don’t underestimate the importance of exercise gadgets. Many people do not move enough, and tracking can be helpful for awareness and accountability. This piece is aimed more at those who drift into the opposite problem—where optimisation replaces recovery.

Fitness ultimately comes down to a simple formula:

Train Recover Adapt Repeat