You wouldn’t know this unless you have known me for three years, but I used to love the gym. Like love. I would go seven days a week and would be in the worst mood if I did not go. Some days I would go twice and I would workout for at least two hours each time. I love it.
My eating was never great except when I was losing weight. But my workouts were always on point. And nothing could stop me from them.
And
Then
The
Pandemic
Hit
I remember the first day not going to the gym, thinking it would pass. And then it didn’t. And then I promised myself I would work out at home. But, see, I loved the gym. So I stopped working out. I mean, I would think about getting a Peleton but then people would be in my house and Coronavirus and…
And two years passed.
So after the dust settled, I joined a gym again. And I went. And I hated it. So I didn’t go for a week.
Then I went again. I hated it even more.
And then about two weeks ago I made a promise to myself to go every day, even if it was for a minute. I refused to not go.
And I went each day. Some days were miserable. Some were worse than that. But I went.
I am writing this because I went to the gym today, and felt good when I left.
It is a huge moment. Loving it will come soon.
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