In 2021, at the age of 36, I became a dad.

Up until that point, I’d always been strong. I’d trained since I was a teenager, lifted weights, built businesses around fitness. But genuinely fit? Cardiovascular fitness? That was something I used only as a tool for weight management. I wasn’t a runner. I hadn’t really ever been a runner, save for a Tough Mudder I did with some mates back in 2012 that nearly finished me off.

But the moment my son arrived, something shifted. I wasn’t going to be the youngest dad on the school playground, I knew that. But I decided right there and then that I was going to be the fittest one. I wanted to be able to run with him, crawl under things, jump over things, keep up with him as he grew. I didn’t want to be the dad watching from a bench.

So I started running.

I will never forget those first two miles. My lungs felt like they were going to explode through my chest. I hated every single second of it. It was awful. But I kept going.

Three months later I on a whim, entered the Brighton Marathon. My first ever race. I’d never run a race in my life. I tried to train for it properly but injured myself and never got past 14 miles in training. I started reading books by endurance athletes, watching YouTube videos obsessively, and before I’d even crossed the Brighton finish line I’d already entered the Barcelona Ironman.

I didn’t own a bike. I wasn’t a good swimmer. I hadn’t yet even done the marathon.

Was this a midlife crisis? Looking back at it, Probably, yes. Was it driven by the fear of having had my son later in life and feeling time ticking? Almost certainly. But here’s the thing, it turns out I’m not alone in this.

The New Midlife Crisis

The leather jacket and the sports car aren’t gone, but they’ve got serious competition. Today, the midlife crisis looks very different for a growing number of men.

Research shows that the biggest demographic of male marathon runners is men aged 40–44. Not men in their twenties. Men in their twenties are actually less likely to run a marathon than men in their thirties and forties. The average age of a male marathon finisher is 40 years old. Half of men in their mid-forties and fifties are starting to enrol in endurance sports and work on their fitness in ways they never have before. Run clubs are booming. HYROX events are sold out months in advance. Triathlon entries are at record highs.

A 2017 meta-analysis in the Journal of Health Psychology found that middle-aged adults who took up endurance training reported significantly higher life satisfaction and lower levels of depressive symptoms compared to those who didn’t. Experts point to identity reconstruction, using physical milestones like a first marathon as a way to mark personal growth, reclaim agency, and find meaning outside of work and family roles.

In other words, the data backs up what I felt instinctively standing there with a newborn son and lungs that couldn’t handle two miles.

But Is It Really a Crisis?

Here’s where I’d push back on the framing.

The word “crisis” implies something negative. Something to be embarrassed about or fixed. But I’d argue what’s happening with men in their thirties and forties isn’t a crisis at all, it’s an awakening. It’s a recalibration. And for many of us, it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to us.

I am fitter now than I have ever been in my life. I have found parts of myself I didn’t know existed. I am mentally stronger and more resilient than I was ten years ago. I’ve found a hobby I genuinely love that complements a lifelong passion for strength training. Endurance events have become something I look forward to, train for, and get enormous satisfaction from.

That doesn’t sound like a crisis to me.

The Real Problem with Getting Older

Here’s the truth that most people don’t want to hear. After the age of 30, we begin to lose muscle mass at a rate of roughly 3–8% per decade without active resistance. After 40, that rate can accelerate further. VO2 max, your body’s ability to use oxygen efficiently, one of the strongest predictors of longevity, declines by around 1% per year after 25 in sedentary individuals. Bone density drops. Testosterone falls. Reaction times slow.

But here’s what the research also shows: a well-trained 60-year-old can have better aerobic fitness than an untrained 30-year-old. Cardiovascular decline is roughly 0.5% per decade in highly trained individuals versus 1.5% per decade in untrained people. The gap between training and not training widens dramatically the older you get.

Your fitness at 40 is more important than at any other point in your life. Because the choices you make now compound into your 50s, 60s, and beyond. You will carry this decade with you. And most people use age as an excuse to start decaying rather than a reason to start fighting.

Too Old? For What, Exactly?

I hear it constantly. “I’m too old now.” “I wish I’d started younger.”

You know what? I wish I’d started younger too. But I didn’t. And neither did most of us. All we have is now.

The “too old” logic doesn’t hold up when you look at it properly. If you’ve never really trained, you’re going to hit personal bests at almost any age you start. Your body hasn’t been pushed. It’s not worn out, it’s untapped. There is no too old. The older you are and the less you’ve trained, the more important it is that you start.

And if you did train when you were younger but you’ve let it slip? Change the goal. If you used to lift but the joints won’t allow it the way they used to, run. If you used to run, lift. The goal isn’t to be who you were at 25. The goal is to be the best version of who you are right now.

The research is clear on one thing here: the optimal approach isn’t purely endurance and it isn’t purely strength. It’s both. A balance of cardiovascular fitness and muscular strength is consistently linked to better health outcomes, greater longevity, and higher quality of life as we age. You need both. Not one or the other.

Go Have Your Crisis

I’m not saying everyone needs to sign up for an Ironman. Although if I’m being honest, I think more people should.

But I am saying this: the midlife urge to be fitter, stronger, more resilient — lean into it. Don’t be embarrassed by it. Don’t dismiss it as vanity or a phase. Use it.

I’m the dad at soft play who’s running around with his son, jumping over things, crawling under things. I want to be the fit grandad too one day. I’d back myself to run circles around 99% of men my age and many ten to fifteen years younger than me — not from ego, but because there is real power in knowing that. My mind feels young. My body mostly agrees.

So be the 40-year-old taking progress photos because you’re proud of the body you’ve built, not trying to hide it. Be the one who starts running at 42 and enters a marathon at 43. Be the one your kids remember as the parent who kept showing up, kept moving, kept going.

The midlife crisis got an upgrade. And this one actually makes you better.