10/01/2021
Have you ever gone out to dinner, ate enough chips and guac to feed a family of fully grown mountain trolls, then get super worried because you thought you might’ve fu**ed up your progress?
Or.
Have you ever been sick or injured or traveling and had to skip a workout or two or three or a whole week? And did you feel bad or guilty or nervous you might’ve fu**ed up your progress?
Listen.
I want to tell you something but I don’t want you skimming it bc it’s wicked important so listen.
You can’t f**k this up.
I’m gonna say it again.
Keep reading. Don’t skim.
You. Can’t. F**k. This. Up.
I don’t care if you blew past your calories by 3,000 extra.
You didn’t f**k up.
I don’t care if you missed one workout or two workouts or a month of workouts.
You didn’t f**k up.
I don’t care if you had an entire box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, 6 chocolate frogs, 4 pints of butter beer and a trolley full of pumpkin pasties.
You didn’t f**k up.
Because here’s the magic of it all.
The only way to f**k up is if you stop altogether. If you give up. Quit. Say you’re done.
Otherwise, you can’t f**k up.
It’s impossible.
Because as long as you get right back on track you’re going to keep making progress.
Most people use, “I fu**ed up” as an excuse to keep f**king up. To stay off track. To not put in more effort.
But that’s bu****it. And as of this moment it’s not a valid excuse.
Because you can’t f**k up.
As long as you get right back on track, you’re good.
This fitness thing?
It’s supposed to be fun. It’s supposed to make you happy and smile and confident and proud.
It’s not a competition.
There is no day or time or hour at which you need to arrive to achieve your goals. There is no rush. You’re playing the long game here. It’s for life, not 7 or 21 or 30 days.
This is forever.
And when you’re playing forever, you can’t f**k up. Just get right back on track.
