“You post so many fucking selfies” my sister recently said to me.
And I’m sure anyone who follows along on my instagram has probably noticed the trend at one point or another.
There is a very good reason for this.
Sometimes it is fucking hard to see or feel progress.
Sometimes it feels like I am working my ass off for nothing.
Some days like Thursday, I do things like the photo above and make amazing progress like leg pressing 100kg.
I would never in my wildest dreams have thought I could do this.
And to do it after only 8 weeks? Crazy.
I look at the comparison photos above, my progress shots and I am amazed by how far I’ve come.
And sometimes, I’m disgusted because I’m still often disappointed with myself.
I still wonder what the point is.
I still think fuck it, why even bother.
But I’m still going.
I’m still eating what best fuels my body and makes me feel good.
I’m still pushing myself to be a red, sweating mess at the end of a workout.
I’m still refusing to accept that as far as I’ve come is as far as I’ll go.
And that is progress.
Progress has become one of my favourite words.
Because it means that something is happening.
It doesn’t expect you to be at your destination, it just asks that you try.