166 hours
Last year I wrote about hitting 130 hours of working out. I ended that note with a line I repeated three times: “I’m going to keep making progress.”
I didn’t know if I’d actually do it. Part of me wondered if writing it down was just another way of setting myself up for disappointment.
This year was rough. The kind of year where everything important changed in the span of a week, and the months after felt like trying to find solid ground that kept shifting.
I still managed to work out for 166 hours. Still around 27 minutes a day. Still not impressive numbers.
But here’s what mattered: when everything else felt like it was falling apart, this was something I could control. I could lace up my shoes. I could show up. And on the days I did, it was the one thing that felt like forward motion.
None of these are numbers that would impress anyone. But they’re mine, and they represent something harder than any PR: consistency when it would’ve been easier to stop.
Life changes fast. Appreciate the people you have around you while you have them. And don’t waste your time with people who don’t deserve it. These aren’t fitness lessons, but they’re what this year taught me while I was trying to keep showing up.
Next year, I’ll keep making progress. Not because I have to, but because I’ve proven to myself that I can.