This is not for the proud. It is not for the arrogant. It lends no room for the boastful and egotistical. No. This is for the weary. The broken. The humbled. You’ve got to be sick and tired to muster up enough strength for this. You’ve got to be at the end of yourself to drag your sore body out for this. You’ve got to have had enough to want this.
This. This is not for the faint of heart. It is not for the weak. This is for the bended knee. The broken-hearted. For the ones who can no longer stomach anything else. When the lies of “later” reverberate like nails on a chalkboard. When the excuses of “can’t” taste like bile in your mouth. You’ve got to have had enough to want this. And you’ve got to want this bad.
Bad enough for 5:45 a.m. four to five times a week.
Bad enough to look at your blistering hand and still grab on to the rope.
Bad enough see your drops of sweat on the floor and get down for one more rep.
Bad enough to tell your shaking limbs, they’re strong enough to keep pushing.
Bad enough to sacrifice little luxuries for better foods, and besides, flipping tires will ruin your manicure anyway.
Bad enough to stand in your kitchen and measure your portions.
Bad enough to walk by the fresh cookies, the birthday cake, the homemade pie, the candy dish, the vending machine, the bowl of dip and say, “I don’t need it”
Bad enough to look in the mirror, not see any changes, but still convince yourself not to quit.
Bad enough to walk into a fitting room with something that never fit before and give it one more try.
This. This is for the long-suffering. The patient. The faithful who hope in what is not yet seen. The believers in this work.