01/06/2021
Exactly three months ago yesterday, I was laying in a hospital bed, still foggy from surgery.
Yesterday, I went for a “lite” hike - more like a stroll along a dirt path - with my family.
In the words of an iconic marketing campaign, I’ve come a long way baby.
There was a moment very early on, where I realized I’d need to re-learn to walk.
Obviously, you’re thinking.
Hear me out.
I KNEW I’d walk again.
But it wasn’t a requirement.
I could’ve decided to use crutches for the rest of my life, or a wheelchair or a walker.
I could’ve said, forget this, it’s too hard and inconvenient, I’m opting out.
Could have. Didn’t -- but it was an option.
Walking again was inevitable.
The process was everything: frustrating and rewarding, uncomfortable and joyous, and lot of uuuuggghh.
I also remember thinking, so what, this is just part of it.
Being so completely focused on my goal meant the icky parts mattered less.
So what if I’m frustrated, I like to hike.
So what if I cry and have some physical pain, I like to walk.
So what if it takes time, I’m here anyway.
There was never a doubt in my mind I’d walk again. Never. I was all in.
What if we approached all our goals this way?
We know there are going to be icky parts. Big whoop.
Yet so many times, we set goals and give up because we hit a bump or two or are flustered and inconvenienced by the extra effort or the time it takes or some BS story we tell ourselves.
So what.
Keep going.
Even when there’s a bump.
Even when there’s discomfort.
Even when it hurts.
Even when you get chewed up and spit out and booed off stage (h/t Eminem).
It’s so worth it.