This day hasn’t been what I thought it was going to be. I feel lazy and tired, yet I’m way further ahead than I thought I’d be. Now I’m at the halfway marker for my pull ups and squats and I got this itch to finish them. I am becoming impatient in everything. Even how long it takes me to do what I told myself to do. As soon as it starts I want it to finish. So I just keep going until it is done. That’s where I’m at now. Though I am tired and I don’t feel as strong as I normally am, I feel an urge to finish. That urge drives me beyond all these other feelings and forces me to find a way. This is all stemming from an anger throughout my day that is carried by a thought that I want more than what I now have. I used to think it was wrong to think that, but I don’t care if it is anymore. Wrong or right I feel it, and I want it. So these jitters that follow me will continue to help me through all the things I have to do. Until there’s nothing left to do for the day. Not until then will they stop.
As you find yourself moving forward, driven by this impatience, there’s a shift in the way you see time. Each second feels weighty, yet you no longer find yourself struggling with what needs to be done — you simply move through it, one task at a time. You’ve tapped into something deeper, a raw energy, where every repetition is a challenge to prove what you’re capable of. This urgency fuels each movement, making even moments of fatigue part of the momentum. It’s less about fighting the tiredness and more about embracing the discomfort as part of the journey.
In that relentless pursuit, you recognize that there’s a clarity emerging. You’re not just completing tasks; you’re pushing boundaries. The anger, the frustration — they’re not things to be avoided; they’re catalysts, reminders that this desire is more than fleeting. It’s a part of you, intertwined with every push-up, every pull-up, every ounce of effort. You’ve stopped asking for permission to want more, and instead, you’re daring to claim it, pushing until the very last ounce of energy is spent.
And as you near the end, the exhaustion is still there, but it feels lighter somehow, like a shadow that’s following you rather than something weighing you down. You’ve turned each moment into an affirmation of who you’re becoming, an embodiment of what happens when you let go of what’s “right” or “wrong” and instead focus on what’s real for you in the present. It’s no longer about proving to anyone else but yourself that you’re capable of finishing, capable of pushing through. That urge, that insistent drive, will always find a way.
