Once it gets cooler around here, I pay closer attention to the way folks enter the gym. In the spring and especially the summer, it’s pretty simple–most folks arrive in their workout clothes, ready to go. There isn’t much hustle and bustle near the coat racks.
But come November, things change. Coats, winter hats, boots. I get to see regular folks take off their Clark Kent glasses and put on their Superman capes: their tees, sweatshirts, knee sleeves, weightlifting shoes. It’s one of my favorite things about running a gym, this pageant of transformation.
And it occurs to me that this is emblematic of a very particular pleasure available to us at any point along the athletic spectrum: the act of going all in. Sure, none of us are Olympic-level lifters or Games athletes. From a probabilistic vantage, we are likely past our potential primes. Our triumphs may be smaller than our dreams.
But none of that matters when you go all in. When the choice is between what you aren’t right now and what you could be today, well, what other choice is there? Inch by inch. One shoe at a time. Like Bukowski says, you just do it. You just go all the way.