In 1997, at age 23, I took my first bodybuilding photos for B&K Sports Magazine. My only goal was to look as muscular as possible. I had trained seriously for three years. Bodybuilding was not just something I did; it was a big part of who I was.

Two years later, I entered the Southern Norway Bodybuilding Championship. I competed again in 2000, and that was my last competition. The physical results were visible on the outside, but I paid less attention to what was happening inside. I rarely thought about my health or how I would feel years later.

During those years, I made choices that put more stress on my body than I realized. When I eventually had my health checked, some blood test results were not where they should have been. My liver enzyme levels were elevated. I was also experiencing mood changes, skin problems, and other physical symptoms.

I began to understand something important: looking healthy and actually being healthy were not always the same thing.

One moment from a lifeguard course in 1998 still stays with me. Part of the course involved diving down to retrieve a rescue dummy. I had just completed a long period of dieting and lost about 40 pounds. Afterward, my weight increased by roughly 15 pounds in less than a week. Much of that was due to changes in fluid levels after preparing for competition and photo shoots.

I believed I was in excellent shape. Yet when I entered the water, my heart started racing and I struggled to stay in control. I had to be helped back onto shore. I remember thinking, What on earth is happening? I was supposed to be in great shape. In that moment, none of what I cared about in the mirror mattered; my body simply had to function.

That was a lesson I did not forget.

From Size to Function

Today, at 52, my focus has changed completely. I am no longer chasing outer beauty. What interests me far more is inner strength. My goal is to live a long life with as few health problems as possible.

When I was younger, I trained with heavy, explosive sets because I wanted to become bigger and more muscular. That was what the whole group at the gym was working toward. We pushed ourselves, tried to outdo each other, and sometimes ignored the cost.

Now I see fitness differently. Bodybuilding still has its own ideals, but walk into an ordinary gym and you often find a different mindset. People want visible muscle, and many also want a lean, athletic appearance. Increasingly, they want to feel healthy and capable. That may be one of the most interesting changes in fitness. Being fit does not have to mean looking a certain way.

Health Is More Than Appearance

The older I get, the clearer it becomes that health goes beyond how we look. Yet we live in a culture that places enormous value on youth. I recently asked a class I teach at school whether our value as human beings diminishes with age. Their response was remarkably clear: they felt that “we young people are worth more than you grown-ups.” Their answer made me smile, bravely perhaps, but somewhere inside it stung a little.

I understand why people want to preserve their youth. I spent many hours standing in front of the mirror, fascinated by the changes I could create through training. But what concerns me is what happens when appearance becomes the foundation of our value. Of course we can care about how we look, and I still enjoy looking and feeling fit. The real question is whether appearance should determine how we value ourselves.

Health is often found in simpler things. It is climbing stairs without thinking about it, carrying something heavy, or taking a long walk. It is getting up from a chair without struggling. Sometimes it is just having enough energy left to enjoy the people around you.

For one person, fitness may mean running a marathon; for another, walking around the neighborhood. It may also mean playing with grandchildren, handling a physically demanding job, or remaining independent in old age. There should be room for all of those goals. That is something I wish I had understood when I was 23.

The Next Generation of Training

So where does fitness go from here? I do not think the future will be about one perfect training method. I think it will be about finding what works for the individual.

A 20-year-old does not need to train like a 70-year-old, and a 70-year-old does not need to train like a 20-year-old. Their physiological starting points are simply not the same. Age does not mean that strength has to disappear. Over the past year, I have regained a surprising amount of the strength I had earlier in life.

My training has become more structured around recovery. My sessions are short, never more than 35 minutes, with relatively few sets and focused exercises. I usually do no more than two sets for a particular body part. I then allow longer rest before training that same body part again. My legs, for example, are now trained only once a week instead of twice.

For me, this has made a significant difference. I can still challenge my body without trying to overwhelm it. I have learned that an aging body needs more time between training stresses. Recovery is part of the training. In my younger years, I judged a good workout by how hard I had pushed myself. Now I ask different questions: Can I recover from it? Can I come back ready to train again?

I believe we will become better at adapting training to the individual, and technology will play a role. Smartwatches and fitness apps can give us useful information about activity, sleep, recovery, and training. But I hope we never become so obsessed with numbers that we forget to listen to ourselves. A watch can tell me how many steps I have taken, but it cannot always tell me how I feel.

In the future of fitness, technology should not replace human judgment. It should remain a tool, with the human being at the center.

A young athlete may need speed, power, and performance, while a busy parent may need efficiency and energy. Someone in their fifties or sixties may value strength, mobility, and independence. Someone much older may want only to stay active enough to enjoy everyday life. None of these goals is more legitimate than the others. They are simply different.

A Different Kind of Strength

When I look back at the young man I was in 1997, I recognize him. But I no longer think the way he did. He wanted to become bigger, to look stronger, and to see what his body could become. There was nothing wrong with that ambition; it gave me discipline and taught me about commitment.

I am 52 now, and I know I cannot hold on to the body I had at 25. None of us can. But I can take care of the body I have today, and that is a more meaningful goal. I no longer want to spend my life trying to win a battle against time. I would rather work with time.

I want to remain strong enough to carry things. I want to walk for a long time and move freely. I want to stay healthy enough to enjoy the years ahead.

I want people to understand that they do not have to look like a bodybuilder to be fit. They do not have to run a marathon or lift heavy weights. They need only find a way of moving that helps their body serve them well throughout life.

That is the future I hope for. Not a world where everyone tries to build the same body. A world where more people understand the body they have, and learn how to take care of it.

When I was 23, I measured my progress by what I saw in the mirror. Today, I measure it differently. Can I still move well? Can I still challenge myself? Can I still enjoy an active life? Can I wake up tomorrow and feel that my body is ready to take me where I want to go? For me, those questions have become far more important than the size of my muscles.

Perhaps that is what the future of fitness should really be about. Not building the perfect body, but building a body that can carry us well through the life ahead of us.