Every damn January, like clockwork, I decide this is the year I’m going to reclaim my former glory. I’m talking combat-fit, shirtless, stud-levels of fitness. I dig out the old gym bag, charge the fitness watch, and stock the fridge with enough greens to choke a goat.
The first couple weeks? I’m a machine. Up early. Protein shakes. Meal prep. Logging every bite like I’m training for a pro fight. The scale moves a little. Clothes fit a little better. I start getting cocky—“I’m back, baby.”
Then… February.
The Motivation Fade
Something always happens. Life. Work. My back and knees reminding me of my age. A few missed workouts turn into a skipped week. I start negotiating with myself—I’ll go tomorrow. I’ve made progress so I deserve a break, right?
And just like that, I’m back to my natural state: sitting too much, eating too much, and pretending I don’t see the slow creep of the gut in the mirror. The only thing getting a workout is my justification muscle.
Used to Be Built Different
There was a time for me when staying fit wasn’t a choice—it was mandatory. In the Army, PT wasn’t optional. I exercised and moved because I had to. I burned so many calories throughout the day that I live on a diet of fast food and beer (when I wasn’t deployed or training) and still stay lean.
Now? If I so much as think about fast food, I gain weight, need a nap, and a cortisone shot.
Now I Sit for a Living
These days, my battles are fought with paperwork and telephone calls. My weapons are a computer and a printer. And let me tell you—desk life is brutal on the waistline. I burn fewer calories in a day than I used to before breakfast.
But my appetite? Still thinks I’m fighting wars and carrying 80 pounds of gear. My body, though, says otherwise. The knees creak, the lower back stiffens, and my metabolism seems to be on permanent leave.
It’s Not Failure. It’s Just Life
I used to beat myself up about it. I’d feel like a failure every time I couldn’t stick to the plan. Every time the workout gear gathered dust. Every time I ate like garbage after swearing I’d “clean it up on Monday.”
But over time, I’ve realized this cycle—the big January push and the slow spring slump—is just part of the rhythm for a lot of us. Especially those of us who used to be in shape because we had to be, and now struggle to find the same fire when it’s all self-driven.
It’s not about weakness or laziness. It’s about juggling careers, families, injuries, stress, and trying to survive the modern grind without losing your mind—or your knees.
Still in the Fight
I don’t have a six-pack. I’m not crushing PRs. But I haven’t given up either. Every year, I take another swing. Sometimes I last a month, sometimes two. Sometimes I even make it to summer before falling off. But I always get back up eventually. I believe that’s the part that matters.
If you’re reading this and you’re on the same ride—you’re not alone. You’re not broken. You’re just human. And probably tired.
So here’s to the annual struggle. To the New Year’s push, the mid-year backslide, and the lifelong attempt to stay somewhat dialed in. We may not be the guys we used to be, but hell, we’re still trying.
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