Am I Willing to Do the Work?

That’s the crux.

That’s the thing.

That’s it.

That’s the question.

The question is not, Do I want the result? Would it be nice? Do I know what I should do? Am I motivated today?

This is the real question:

Am I willing to do the work?

And the answer is yes or the answer is no.

There really isn’t an in-between.

You can negotiate the pace. You can adjust the plan. You can decide what is realistic for this season of your life. You can change the goal entirely.

And that’s all okay.

But eventually, you have to answer the question.

Are you willing to do the work this goal actually requires?

Not the work you wish it required.

Not only the parts you enjoy doing.

Not the work you do when life is calm, your schedule is perfect, and motivation has decided to bless you with its presence.

The actual work.

I have had to answer this question more times than I can count.

When I was a personal trainer, I carried a whole list of things I thought I should be.

I should look a certain way. I should be leaner. I should have more discipline. I should be the fucking example.

I knew what to do. I had the knowledge. I understood the training and the nutrition—eventually.

But knowing and doing are definitely not the same thing.

For a long time, the work came from pressure.

It came from thinking I was supposed to look a certain way because of my job. It came from believing my body was somehow evidence of whether or not I was good enough at what I did.

You see that all over social media.

It worms its way in. No doubt about that.

That kind of work never felt like a real choice.

It felt like punishment.

And punishment might get you moving for a while, but it is a shitty long-term plan.

Things started to change when I stopped asking what I should do and started asking what I actually wanted.

I really had to think about it.

I had to get out of my own fucking way and decide.

I wanted to feel strong.

I wanted to trust myself.

I wanted to train because I loved what my body could do, not because I was trying to beat it into submission.

That desire for strength had been there long before I ever became a trainer.

When I was younger, I wanted my brother’s quads.

We would run up the stairs in our house on Prospect, and I loved the definition in his legs. Mine did not look like that, and I wanted them to.

But what I really loved was the strength.

I climbed trees. I was outside constantly. I did push-ups and sit-ups during commercials while I watched TV with my dad.

I wanted to be strong before I ever thought I needed to be smaller.

And that matters.

It matters because the work feels different when it comes from something you genuinely want instead of something you think is wrong with you.

I have had to ask the same question with my businesses, Thrive Fitness and The Cycle Studio.

Owning a studio sounds exciting.

And it is.

But loving the idea of something is not the same as being willing to do the work it requires.

The work is teaching early classes.

It is programming clients, making playlists, planning rides, promoting classes, watching attendance, paying bills, cleaning up, making decisions, solving problems, and wondering whether people will show up.

It is dealing with uncertainty.

It is continuing to bring energy when I am tired.

It is showing up when the fun part is over and the responsibility part is sitting there waiting for me.

Taking over the studio meant deciding that I was willing to carry all of it. Not just the parts that look exciting from the outside.

There are days when the answer is easy.

Yes. I am willing.

There are other days when I have to remind myself that wanting the studio and wanting only the exciting parts of the studio are not the same thing.

The same is true with my own training.

I have goals. I want to keep building muscle. The Be About It crew has another photoshoot planned. I know there will eventually be a cutting phase.

But there is no magical future version of me who is going to suddenly become more committed in January.

The work for then is happening right fucking now.

It is happening in the ordinary workouts.

It is happening when there is no dramatic transformation to post.

It is happening when I eat enough, recover, train hard, repeat the basics, and allow muscle-building to be slow.

Because it is.

That’s how it works.

Nobody is clapping for most of that.

There is no instant reward.

There is just the work.

That is where people get so stuck.

They want the end result, but they have not decided whether they are willing to live the process.

They say they want to feel better, but they are not willing to go to bed earlier.

They say they want to get stronger, but they keep skipping the workouts.

They say they want change, but only if the change does not inconvenience them too much.

That does not make someone lazy, broken, or bad.

It doesn’t, and I would never say it does.

Sometimes the honest answer is simply no.

No, I am not willing to do that right now.

No, that goal is not worth the cost to me.

No, this is not the season.

No, I do not want it badly enough to rearrange my life around it.

That is allowed.

There is power in telling the truth.

What keeps people stuck is saying yes with their mouth while their choices keep saying no.

It is standing in the doorway pretending to be undecided.

It is continuing to talk about the goal, think about the goal, complain about not reaching the goal, and avoid the work attached to it.

At some point, you have to stop asking whether you could do it.

You probably could.

No doubt.

The question is whether you are willing.

Are you willing to be uncomfortable?

Are you willing to be consistent when it is boring?

Are you willing to do the part you keep avoiding?

Are you willing to stop fucking waiting for the perfect plan, the perfect week, the perfect mood, or the perfect time?

Are you willing to keep going when the result is not showing up quickly enough for you?

Are you willing?

That is the crux.

That is the thing.

That is it.

You do not need to shame yourself into a yes.

You do not need to force a goal that no longer matters to you.

You do not need to keep proving how badly you want something while refusing to participate in the process.

You just need to answer honestly.

Am I willing to do the work this goal requires?

The answer is yes.

Or the answer is no.

That honesty takes courage.

But once you tell the truth, you can finally put down all the expectations and move. That’s what I had to do in order to move forward.

The Fringe Tells You Exactly Where Your Bullshit Lives

I’ve been thinking about this idea a lot lately.

The fringe. That edge. That place where your brain starts feeding yourself every excuse in the book. Every reason why you can’t. Every reason why you shouldn’t.

I’ve realized that the fringe tells me exactly where my bullshit lives. Think about it. You aren’t weak. You aren’t incapable. Every story we tell ourself gets louder right before we grow. Right before we grow. Right before we cross the fringe.

I’m not ready. What if I fail? What if people judge me? I’m too fucking old. Maybe later. Bullshit, bullshit and more bullshit. 

It doesn’t mean those thoughts aren’t real. They are really fucking real. But are they really true? Probably not. And the interesting part is that everyone’s fringe is different.

Mine today is definitely not the same as it was ten years ago. 

When I first started posting on social media, that was definitely my fringe. Fuck. People can be awful. I worried what people would think and wondered if they would judge. Then, I just got tired of giving a shit. I know I have good information to share. If someone doesn’t like it, they can keep scrolling. Or as my friend, Pay Flynn, says – they can take the breadsticks and leave. Keep your comments to yourself. 

Fringe crossed. 

Same thing with writing. Years ago I blogged all the time. I wasn’t teaching, I was telling stories. The Euclid house. The Prospect house. The kid I used to be. Kid Peggie. Those stories weren’t workouts or macros. They were pieces of my childhood. That was a different kind of vulnerable. I wrote them anyway. They mattered to me. I didn’t expect everyone to understand them. 

Fringe crossed.  

So my fringe is not social media anymore. It’s somewhere else. 

Last year it was saying yes to a photoshoot with three incredible women and fellow coaches, Beth, Amy and Kelly. My fringe wasn’t the photoshoot itself, it was everything my mean girl voice tried to tell me before the photoshoot. You’re 61. You don’t belong here. This is for younger women. People are going to judge you. But that’s where the actual work was. It wasn’t in the workouts or the other things that went along with it. It was calling bullshit on every single one of those thoughts. More than once the voice crept in, but I kept going. 

Fringe crossed. 

Right now though, the fringe is doing another photoshoot. The fringe is getting Snatched again. Same badass fellow coaches. All of us together doing it again.  You would think doing one photoshoot would make the second one easy. It doesn’t. The bullshit started reading the new script. You will be 62! Do you really want to do this again? Jesus Fuck. What if this one isn’t as good? There it is. The fringe. And it’s not because of the camera. It’s because of the story and that voice. People already saw you once. Maybe you should quit while you’re ahead. That’s exactly how bullshit works. Fringe not crossed….yet. 

I also find my fringe in places that don’t make for exciting instagram posts. Letting people help me. That’s hard. I like doing things myself and I like figuring things out. But maybe this next version of me doesn’t have to carry everything This version might ask and might delegate and maybe let go of some things. 

See what I mean. Bullshit. Different story. Same fringe. Haha. 

But who knew that the fringe moves? 

What scares the shit out of me today, will probably be normal in a year. Then something else becomes the edge. Something else becomes the fringe. That’s the point. We are never done. We just keep meeting new versions of ourselves. 

The life I live isn’t on the comfortable side of the line. It’s on the other side of my bullshit. I cross it and then I find the next fringe. 

I don’t want to spend the rest of my life negotiating with the same bullshit. I want new bullshit. Bigger bullshit. The kind that shows up because I kept growing. The things that used to scare the hell out of me don’t anymore. Now I have new edges. I have new stories and I have new fringes. You never outgrow fear, you just outgrow old fears and meet new ones. I hope I never stop meeting them. 

Fringe crossed. Now where’s the next one?