I did not want to get out of bed this morning when my alarm went off. It was warm and I felt weak. But I got up anyway.

I forced myself to sit at my laptop and start scrolling through my notes to figure out what I was going to write this week.

I drafted three different essays. All garbage.

I thought of excuses for why I can’t publish something this week. Even started to draft the “I’ve published for 118 weeks in a row and this is my first break” message in my head.

I have to start my workout in an hour. I don’t want to do that either. I’m sore and tired. Feeling a little sick. I’ve lifted or run every single day for twenty-seven days straight.¹

I deserve a break this week, don’t I?

~~~

I don’t want to start most of the things I do every day. But I force myself to go through the motions.

Sit down, open the computer, start typing.

Get up, put on your shorts, lace up your shoes. 

I do it slowly and lethargically most days. 

Some days, my energy picks up and I feel fantastic once I start.

Others, I slog through with no drive or ambition or desire to be there. 

I don’t expect my best every day. I don’t expect my best any day. I just expect myself to show up. Whether I have a smile on my face is irrelevant.

~~~

The voice in my head that craves comfort, warmth, and relaxation isn’t going to send me out the door for a cold winter run or force me to sit down and scour my soul for a good essay every week. Those things are not natural to my DNA.

Out of 118 weeks of publishing, I didn’t feel like writing for half of them. Same with the last four weeks of exercising every day.

I always meet resistance when it’s time to start.

But for me to enjoy my days and be content with the person I am, I need to face hard things every day. Once I’ve begun, I embrace the feeling of overcoming and anticipate the sense of accomplishment once I’m done.

As I sit down at my laptop or warm into my workout, the resistance almost always melts away and is replaced by excitement, energy, and passion.

On the days it doesn’t, that’s okay too. I’m still going to finish what I know I need to do even when I don’t feel my best.

Then after days and weeks and months and years, I can look back and say “I’m proud I published on week 119, even though at the time I wanted nothing more than to take a break.”

But I only got to week 119 because I allowed myself to go through the motions when that’s all I could give.

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Jack

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