Guilt As Motivation
I saw a guy yesterday at my gym who clearly had problems walking.
I saw a blind man walk down from the top of the stairs in the weight room all the way to the locker room slowly following the railing and his own instinct.
I see really old people who barely shuffle along plop down on a treadmill and get their sweat on.
I read stories of people who went from being almost unable to walk to running marathons through slow but sure dedication to exercise.
I’ve lost close friends of mine way too young. These friends loved to race and workout.
I see, read, and think about stuff on a weekly basis and it motivates me to get off my butt and get to the gym.
If the guy who has problems walking can get on the Stairmaster, I can get over my little sore foot and get a good run in.
If the blind guy can get a ride to the gym, find his way in an out of the locker room, get up and down three flights of stairs to presumably lift weights for a while, I can finish that last set of pull ups I wasn’t looking forward to.
If an old person get take their fragile body on a treadmill and make a concerted effort to continue to push it to better themselves, I get take my young, healthy body on a treadmill for a mere 30 minute jog.
If a man who had scar tissue throughout his body and was almost in a wheelchair at age 40 can slowly reengineer his body through a whole lot of yoga and even more patience and perseverance to be able to run again without pain, I can get off my lazy ass and get some time in at the gym.
If some of my wonderful buddies were still around, they would give anything to go for a run in the fresh air and feel their lungs burn while their muscles tire out. It’s such a meditative, familiar feeling that you get addicted to once you’ve experienced it enough. Sometimes, when I’m really not motivated or need an extra push to get through a rough running patch, I’ll picture my friend running with me, giving me that extra inspiration to keep going strong.
Maybe it’s weird. Or maybe it’s the midwestern in me that constantly feels guilt. But I use it as a reason to get off my butt and be the best me I can possibly be.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go get my workout in.