I recently told a friend what my fitness goals were, what I wanted to achieve with all the time and energy I’ve been putting into this project of mine. Their reply really struck me, they said I should “remember to accept realistic expectations of what [I am] capable of”. Maybe it wasn’t meant to, but that sounded to me like “you bit off more than you can chew” or “you should just accept that where you are now is as good as you can be and be proud of it.”
I don’t think he meant it to be discouraging, and I didn’t say anything about it. The filter in my head was the source of the negativity. Even still, it just lingered in my mind, it planted a seed of doubt of if I really have set unrealistic goals for myself. And so I wondered if maybe I did. I was discouraged and depressed.
I’ve been fixed on that thought since the conversation. But the truth of the matter is that I am not content to merely meet expectations. I set the bar high on purpose — if I don’t meet my goal, I’ll die trying. Simple as that. I refuse to even consider that I should be hindered by any internal or external disposition, genetics, or level of effort exerted. I believe anything is achievable given sufficient input and dedication.
I’m hereby renewing my drive, dedication, and determination to the goals I will achieve. This is my life, my lifestyle. I don’t plan on finishing. Each workout will add to the last, and with consistency I will push harder and more often until I — and no one else — am satisfied.