This.
This is my 365th day in the making.
My one year of constancy.
My six million steps.
My ultimate soda withdrawal.
Today, is my first Fitbit-versary. A solid year of every single day, fair weather or foul, cold and puking or not, despite day job and rehearsals, performances and parties, deaths and mental breakdowns…my ass was up, every single fucking day, to do this thing because it was the one thing I could control and own and dominate, when all else failed.
6,173,339 steps. That’s 16,913 per day, on average. That’s over 8 miles per day. That’s over 3,000 miles. That’s more than walking from Seattle to Maine, or Miami, or Veracruz, Mexico.
That is crazy.
So is giving up soda…my second-only-to-coffee-in-non-alcoholic-joy function juice.
… Every Coke commercial, I feel the pain of ex-smokers watching an episode of Mad Men. Or, you know…anything with Bette Davis.
This has not been easy. It has, in fact, frequently sucked ass. I’ve had blisters on blisters, insomnia from muscle pain, and seriously screwed up my arches from poor footwear choice. Going from “fuck fitness” to “pusher religion,” with no other purpose than to own power over something is really a thing.
I have really done a thing.
… And I will continue to. Because even on the most shit-filled day, the fresh air and the need to force myself through a thing…being able to push through an actual physical, tangible challenge and win it…sometimes, is literally the only win at all, to be had.
And I’ll take whatever I can get.
And I’ll fight for it.
I’ve proven I can. It’s on the resume of my muscles and bones now. I’ve got a year of it under my belt.
…If I can do this, I can do other stuff. Regardless of what I “feel like.”
Positive energy and all that shit…
(… God, I’ve been watching way too much OITNB–As if that’s a “thing”)
To: the next 365.
Bring it, bitch. I own you.
~D
