I’m getting all caught up in the exact amount I need to be doing in my training. Making sure I don’t go past it with some extra activity, like a hike. That sort of thinking needs to be corrected. If I continue to allow myself to think these sorts of thoughts then I’ll only grow weaker. That’s why I’m sitting on the bench of a mountain I just hiked. Enjoying a stunning view. It was to remind myself how big the world we live in is. So that next time I start to consider imposing any sort of limitations on myself and my way of life, I can end that thought on the spot. Just by being here and doing this, it’s instantly shut off. The limiters infecting my mind disappear.
The air is crisp up here. The wind brushes against my skin, a stark contrast to the burning in my legs from the climb. I take a deep breath, letting the vastness before me remind me of what I always seem to forget: my own potential. How easy it is to shrink my world down to a checklist, to a set of numbers that dictate what I’ve done and what I still have to do. But the world isn’t a list. It isn’t a set of reps or miles run. It’s a series of moments, each one expansive, limitless—if I allow them to be.
That’s why I came here. That’s why I’m sitting on this bench, watching the sun dip below the horizon, stretching its golden light over everything in sight. It’s why I let myself feel the soreness, let myself sit in the exhaustion without labeling it as something to fear. The body will always want to conserve, to ration out effort in small doses. But I know better now. The mind dictates what is possible, not the body. And the mind must be reminded of that, over and over again, until there are no more false walls left to tear down.
I stand up. The mountain behind me was never the obstacle. It never was. The only thing that ever stood in my way was the belief that there were limits in the first place. Today, I chipped away at another one. Tomorrow, I’ll do it again.
