Not enough to just get up early.
I have to get up even earlier.
Plans change a bit.
More is required out of me this morning,
this morning and many more to come.
So, if more is wanted, then more is given.
It’s fine with me really.
Whatever it is I want out of myself,
that much I’ll give.
Without exception, I’ll listen to myself.
I owe this much to myself.
I want to become what I wanted.
No more wishing I was different.
Wishing never did anything for me,
neither did hope for that matter.
All that does good now is doing,
just doing all the things I wish I did.
And maybe that’s the real work, isn’t it?
Not the pull-ups, or the squats,
or even the endless miles of running.
It’s this—this quiet, unyielding promise
to listen to myself and act,
even when the world would forgive me for stopping.
The alarm rings earlier now,
the hours are stretched thinner,
but somehow, I feel fuller.
Each action is a testament
to the me I promised myself I’d be.
No one else will hold me accountable,
not like I will.
No one else will show up in the darkness,
before the sun even considers rising,
and say, “Yes, this is who we are now.”
Hope and wishing?
They’re passive, flimsy things.
They don’t shape calluses on your hands,
or build strength in tired muscles.
Doing does that.
Repeating does that.
Demanding more of yourself,
over and over,
until you finally match the image
of who you said you’d become.
So, no—getting up early isn’t enough.
Because when I think about what I want,
what I really want,
I see no room for excuses,
no space for compromise.
Each day is an investment.
Not in someone else,
not in a fleeting goal.
But in me.
And if I can give myself this,
this relentless effort,
then I’ll know that whatever happens,
I am enough.
I became enough.
