The Battle Between Rest and Excuses: What My Double Sessions Are Teaching Me About Recovery, Grit, and Growth

There’s a fine line between fatigue and avoidance—and every committed athlete learns to walk it eventually. Some mornings, after a brutal training day, that line feels especially thin. You wake up sore. Not the exciting, “I crushed it” sore—but the kind that makes your legs feel like anchors and your brain second-guess everything. Maybe you didn’t sleep well. Maybe you skipped a meal. Maybe you’re just not in it mentally. So, the question hits hard and fast: Do I train through this… or take a rest day?

The truth is this question rarely has a black-and-white answer. It’s not about if you’re tired—it’s about why you’re tired. Is this your body genuinely asking for recovery? Or is it your mind negotiating with comfort? That’s the real skill I’ve had to develop over time—learning to distinguish between real signals and convenient rationalizations. Rest days aren’t just about avoiding burnout or letting your muscles recover. They’re strategic. They're part of a larger plan to sustain performance, maximize adaptation, and come back sharper.

But here’s where it gets tricky: sometimes the signal to rest isn’t coming from your body—it’s coming from your mindset. That whisper of doubt that shows up when training gets uncomfortable, when routines get demanding, or when consistency feels heavier than usual. It’s fear, disguised as wisdom. And if you’re not careful, that voice starts to sound rational. It uses words like “self-care” and “listening to your body” to mask the truth: you’re stepping back when you should be leaning in.

I know this voice well—because I hear it almost daily.

I train twice a day. Strength and technical work in the morning, conditioning or skill refinement at night. Double sessions have become part of my rhythm, especially as a coach who's still deep in the learning and competing phase. But there are days when that second session feels like a mountain. Not because I’m injured. Not because I’m truly incapable. But because I already showed up once, and the couch starts sounding a lot better than the barbell.

That’s where the internal conversation really starts—not about fatigue, but about truth. About hunger. About self-awareness.

Because after that morning grind, once the adrenaline wears off and the soreness creeps in, I catch myself thinking, “Maybe that was enough for today.” And sure, sometimes it is. But other times, I’m not actually tired—I’m just tired of being uncomfortable. And that’s when I have to ask myself: Is this soreness… or softness? Is this a need… or an excuse?

The more I train, the more I think about athletes in competition—those who go from one event to the next, sometimes with barely an hour in between. I wonder how they’re able to recover so quickly. How they stay mentally locked in, physically primed, and emotionally focused after each event. And the answer I keep coming back to isn’t magic—it’s mindset. They don’t wait to feel ready. They prepare to perform anyway. They train their bodies to bounce back because their minds don’t give them another option.

That’s what I’m working on. Not just building a bigger engine but refining the way I respond. I’ve made the mistake before—ignoring signals, overtraining, pushing too hard until I hit a wall. That’s not smart. But I’ve also made the other mistake—pulling back too soon, calling it “recovery” when it was really just resistance. And that’s not growth, either.

I believe in listening to the body. I’ve learned that real recovery isn’t optional—it’s earned. It’s part of the process. But I also believe in being honest. When we’re truly committed to getting better—when greatness is the goal—we don’t need motivation to show up. The hunger is already there. It’s locked in.

That’s why I keep showing up—even when it’s not convenient. Even when it’s raining. Even when the first session emptied my tank and the second one feels impossible. Because I know no one becomes exceptional by chasing comfort. And no one becomes confident by skipping the tough days.

Some days, I skip the second session. But I do it with intention, not guilt. I do it because I’ve learned to assess—not avoid. That’s the difference. That’s the line we all must draw for ourselves: Is this a necessary pause, or an avoided challenge?

If I want to be great—not just consistent, not just capable, but great—then I need to sharpen how I train and how I rest. I need to build clarity, not just capacity. I need to become the kind of athlete who knows when to push and when to pause—not because it’s easy, but because it’s earned.

Growth doesn’t happen when everything feels good. It happens when we show up—sore, uncertain, and still willing. It happens in the second session. It happens after the first doubt. It happens when we rest with purpose and push with conviction. So, the next time that voice tells you to sit this one out, ask yourself: Is this wisdom… or comfort in disguise? Your answer might just be the difference between plateauing—and breaking through.