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It’s Monday again and I’m 10 weeks out from having gastric sleeve and starting this amazing and at times rough journey. I’m sitting at 75 pounds down from my weight in April (325 from 400), and hitting the gym 5 days a week.
I’m hearing a lot of “man, I wish I was as dedicated as you are” and “I don’t have time” lately.
I get it. Life, right?
Anyone can see someone getting their shit together and think “damn, I wish I was doing that!”. It takes work though. You have to get up, you have to go when you don’t want to. You have to ignore your back being sore because you didn’t sleep right, you have to cull the excuses.
If you want it.. You will work for it.
When the scale shows no progress, you will keep going.
When your clothes don’t fit right and you maybe feel like you look worse, you will keep going.
When no one makes it to the gym when they said they would (not you, Klumpus. You’re a bad ass.), you do the workout anyway. You do the squats and hope the dude you’re silently spotting is doing the same for you. (Yes, I was ready to try to pull that bar with 350 off your chest while I was struggling to deadlift 255..)
We keep pushing. You keep pushing. You build. You tear down. You rebuild. You survey. You keep going.
Because I’d rather feel like I’m dying making progress than know I’m dying because I was too fucking lazy to go to the gym for an hour.