*pokes your chest*
Shut up and train.
Shhhh. I know. You don’t have to tell me.
I’ve heard the same from hundreds–nay, thousands–of others “planning” on getting fit.
You really want to get into shape. But something about not having time. Or needing more sleep. Or fear or lack of know-how or experience or your middle school PE teacher that forced you to run laps until you puked and made you hate exercise.
I don’t care.
I’m training. You’re not. End of story.
No seriously. Shut up. Shut. Up. And train.
Yeah it’s hard. Some days it feels like you’re trying to swallow the sun. Like you’re trying to walk a 220-pound dog or lift dead elephants. Training requires discipline, effort, and sacrifice. There are no free rides. There’s no way to slide by on bullshit. You have to give something to get something.
But let’s face it. Training isn’t that hard. It’s not mortal combat. It’s not quantum physics or even algebra.
I’m not asking you to pick up a sword and shield and enter the arena or wrestle an alligator or eat fried tarantula. Hell I’m not even asking you to make a fool of yourself in a public place or scrub the stale piss off a public bathroom floor.
I’m telling you to drag your ass up to a bunch of metal every day and pick it up and put it down like a savage until your muscles burn and body aches.
Clank. Boom. Thud. The beautiful chorus of a ritual honoring Mother Nature’s most cherished touchstone for all her creations: survival of the fittest.
Not the richest. Not the wittiest. Not the kindest. The fittest. Money can’t buy strength or discipline. Wit can’t make you tough. Kindness can’t stop life from running you over.
So shut up and train.
Don’t talk about training. Stop reading about it. Don’t even read my blog. It’ll be here later–after you’ve trained. When you’ve put in the work and paid the admission ticket. You go train. Then you come here. Anything else is just foreplay. Masturbation even. That’s not how it works here. Get it in or get out.
I really want to train but–
But what? But bullshit.
Writers write. Salespeople sell. Politicians politick. We train.
You wanna get fit?
Easy. Get training.
Oh you’re scared, are you? I understand. It means ditching the excuses, the self-destructive habits, the self-pity shticks. It means opening yourself up to criticism, judgment, disappointment, and maybe even despair. It means announcing to the world that you’ve been less than perfect and have somehow found the audacity to live up to your standards.
Trust me. I know. I really do. And I don’t give a shit. Shut up.
I’m not telling you to jump out a plane without a chute. I’m not trying to conscript you into a harem of coke-addled runaways. Nobody is lurking in the alleys. Nobody has written your name on a bullet.
Train. Right the fuck now. Go. Train.
What? You don’t have the time? Oh okay. Why didn’t you say that in the beginning? You’re excused then.
Get real. Who has the time for half of all the stuff we want to do? I’m sorry that life isn’t gift wrapping a chunk of time every day so you can train in Zen-like comfort and solitude. Join the club. And face the fact that you’re going to die with a long to-do list. Make damn sure “start training” isn’t on that list.
Oh, you’re afraid of messing it up? Of quitting like all the other losers? Welcome to being human. Nobody wants to face plant. It might leave a scar. People might jeer at us. We might jeer at ourselves.
But everyone stumbles and falls. The strong ones get back up a little wiser. A little less likely to fall again.
Or is it that nobody respects that you want to train? Nothing new there. People love to ridicule what they don’t understand. And what they wish they had or could do.
So who cares what they think. Disrespect is how you know you’re getting somewhere. Forget glamor and glory. They tarnish and fade. Dirt and honor? Now we’re cooking. Those are the real treasures.
You’re either training or you’re not. Stop worrying about what comes next. Stop thinking about how great it’s going to be. Stop talking, tweeting, and promising.
I’m waiting. And I can’t do anything for you if you’re not training.
I can’t make you train. I can’t strap your lazy limbs to mine and do it for you. This is on you.
So shut up and train. Right now. Stop reading this article and train. Whatever you can do right now. I don’t care what it is. Start with 100 pushups. Then go run some sprints.
Who cares if it’s random. If it seems pointless. Do the work, sweat the sweat, and admire every bead that your body offers you. And then go in for some more. Push, pull, and squat like your life depends on it.
And once you have, stop and be proud. Take that self-doubt and punt it across the room because you’re doing it. You’re training.
Scream. No, roar. Go ahead. Like a conqueror.
I SAID ROAR, DAMN IT.
The plan starts with shutting up and ends with training. Don’t call your friends to see if anyone is going to join you. Don’t think about how hard it’s going to be. Don’t you dare tell yourself you deserve a break.
You deserve to train.
And once you’ve done it enough, you get to say you’re doing it.
So shut up and train. Then you can email me. Then we can talk.