One Goal At A Time
When I humblebrag about starting pushups on June 1st, eight weeks ago, a lot of people ask the inevitable question: “How many do you do?” I’ve carefully avoided saying even a ballpark number. As my daily record has risen, I’ve not lost my surprise at beating what I thought was a ridiculously impossible goal.
Yesterday, I broke my previous record by 11:15. Today, by 10. I left work, happy, tired, and surprised. Needless to say…
I’ve passed the remainder of the afternoon writing, cleaning, cooking, and painting, projects both practical and creative.
Each time I had negative or fearful thoughts, I would do another set of pushups.
I reached 1,000 just now. It’s a testament to the consistency of effort and also an admission that I find myself doubtful more than I expect to.
I’ve been preaching at a co-worker to do the hard work and get to 280 just once so that he tastes that indescribable feeling of knowing he did it. He’s a big man. 280 is trim as hell for someone with his physique. Truth be told, I want everyone to figure these things out and give whatever is in their heads an attempt. Succeed or fail, all of us are going to be dead more quickly than we realize.
Given the other things I committed to doing, I decided that maybe I needed to know what it would feel like to be able to say, “I did 1,000 pushups when I was 54 years old.”
This afternoon’s occupied loneliness granted me the ability.
I took a Friday and turned it to my advantage.
I hope you forgive me for sounding like I’m a vain bastard.
I ain’t ever doing this again.