I had just gotten over Covid. Not the light version either. One week of being sick. One week of lying in bed thinking, “Should I go to the hospital? Or just try to breathe through it at home and pray I wake up tomorrow?” Then another week of feeling like I’d been hit by a truck. By the fourth week, I told myself, “Okay, I need to move. Just do something.” So I went for a walk. One mile. It took me 29 minutes. Twenty-nine. Two months before, I was running a 6:15 mile. And now I was dragging my body down the road, trying not to cry.
I kept thinking, “What happened to me? Is this my new normal? Am I ever going to feel strong again?” I was angry. Embarrassed. Depressed. Honestly, I was on the edge of just saying screw it. But then this small voice cut through all the noise “You always tell people: you build up before you keep up.” That stuck. So I kept walking. Not because it felt good. Not because I felt motivated. But because I wasn’t done. Not yet.
Some mornings I roll out of bed and the first thought is, “Nope. Hard pass.” The kids need rides, emails are exploding, bills don’t magically pay themselves, and the barbell looks heavier than my mood. That little spark of “let’s do this”? Nowhere. But here’s the truth bomb I keep slamming into my own skull: motivation is optional, but showing up isn’t. So I lace the shoes, tell the negative committee in my head to hush, and walk through the doors of RNFCrossFit anyway. Ten minutes into the warm‑up, I remember why that always works.
On the worst days, my inner voice starts grilling me:
“Why bother?”
“You’ll never hit those numbers again.”
“Everybody else is fitter, just stay home.”
That’s when I drag out my why: I want to be the dad who can do things with his kids, the husband who keeps promises, and the coach who practices what he preaches. Your why might be totally different, but it’s the same turbo boost. Tattoo it on your brain. Whisper it when the alarm rings. Shout it (internally, unless you like weird looks) during the last ugly rep. Because if your why is loud enough, excuses don’t stand a chance.
Here’s the sneaky thing about habits: they’re boring until they’re bulletproof. Show up on the days you feel unstoppable and on the days you’d rather eat pizza on the couch. Consistency >>> intensity, every single time. The PRs will come back. The lungs will open up. That 29‑minute mile? It takes time patience, maybe a few choice words when you are by yourself. But only if you keep punching the clock.
Ever try quitting mid‑WOD while friends are yelling your name? Good luck. Community is the safety net when willpower snaps. RNFCrossFit isn’t just bumper plates and chalk, it’s a room full of people who get the struggle and refuse to let you tap out. Borrow their energy until you find your own again. That’s the whole point.
Feeling like you’re starting from zero? Perfect. Zero means nothing to lose and everything to gain. Grab your why, commit to three workouts this week, and let’s rebuild together, one honest rep at a time. I’ll be right there, breathing hard and reminding myself (and you): we’re not done.
