Even after all that, I still wake up.
I still got energy in me.
All I get is a night’s sleep.
A sleep, then I go back to repeat,
repeat it all over again.
I’m used to it now.
This is the way I’m used to things.
All this pain and soreness is normal to me.
I can operate even regardless of it.
My body works easier in the mornings now.
It eagerly awaits the chance to do it again.
It can’t wait to get it done,
first thing in the morning,
so that the rest of the day is easier.
Not so easy though.
I also have to do extra today.
That’ll come in time though, with time.
All I got to do is finish right now again.
Even after all that, I still wake up.
I still got energy in me.
It’s strange, isn’t it? How this cycle has become second nature. Wake, push, endure, rest—then do it all over again. A rhythm I’ve created, forged out of necessity, and now it feels like the only way I know how to live. I used to resist it, question it, even despise it. But now, I find comfort in its predictability.
All I get is a night’s sleep.
A sleep, then I go back to repeat,
repeat it all over again.
There’s something satisfying about repetition. The grind doesn’t feel meaningless anymore; it feels purposeful. Each movement, each moment of discomfort, builds into something greater than itself. It’s not just about finishing the task; it’s about proving to myself that I can finish the task, every single time, no matter how I feel.
I’m used to it now.
This is the way I’m used to things.
Used to things? No, I’ve mastered them. The pain that once held me back now fuels me. The soreness I once dreaded now feels like a signpost, a reminder of the work I’ve put in. There’s a strange pride in waking up and feeling the ache—it’s proof that I showed up for myself yesterday.
All this pain and soreness is normal to me.
I can operate even regardless of it.
It’s not that the pain has disappeared—it’s that it doesn’t control me anymore. I feel it, acknowledge it, and then move past it. The body screams, but the mind remains steady. The soreness becomes background noise, a dull hum in the symphony of effort and determination.
My body works easier in the mornings now.
It eagerly awaits the chance to do it again.
Eager—that’s the word. There’s a hunger that wasn’t there before. A drive to keep going, to see what lies on the other side of this effort. It’s no longer about surviving the day but dominating it. My body knows what’s coming, and it welcomes the challenge.
It can’t wait to get it done,
first thing in the morning,
so that the rest of the day is easier.
The mornings are sacred now. They set the tone, shape the flow of the hours to come. If I win the morning, I win the day. And I will win this morning, like all the others before it.
Not so easy though.
I also have to do extra today.
Extra. That word used to intimidate me. Now, it excites me. Extra means growth. Extra means I’m pushing past where I was yesterday. It’s not a burden; it’s a gift.
That’ll come in time though, with time.
All I got to do is finish right now again.
Right now—that’s all there ever is. The next rep, the next movement, the next breath. I won’t let the weight of the day overwhelm me. One moment at a time, one step forward, and before I know it, I’ll be where I need to be.
