Today, for the first time in over a year and a half, I lifted angry. I had just gotten off the phone with the moving company that is supposed to move me tomorrow and a mix-up of theirs had pissed me off, to say the least. That got my adrenaline pumping; not like when I'm hyped or excited for something, but like I wanted to rip somebody's head off.
It was the first time in a year and a half that I attacked the weights when I lifted. I don't know what has happened, but it has seemed like for the longest time I have just been trying to get through my training sessions instead of completely murdering my sessions and wanting more. Today I had to force myself to stop lifting; today I felt like myself again.
Maybe it was because I was angry that I lifted so well, or maybe it was because it finally hit me that the only way anything gets done for me is if I grab it by the throat and do it myself. That was the way I felt when I was chasing something, when I had goals and something that was driving me. But for the longest now, even though I've set goals for myself, I haven't had that same drive and I haven't had that same hunger as I did before. In the back of my mind there's always been a sense of, "Why does this really matter?"
I know. I'm disappointed in myself for letting it come to that, but it's the truth. Today, though, that changed. Today I figured out why it really matters. Why? Because if I don't do it, nobody is going to do it for me, and then it will never get done. And that's something I can't live with.
No comments:
Post a Comment