After being sidelined with a minor but irritating injury to my elbow that prevented me from lifting weights for a good solid month, I told my trainer I was ready to lift.
She handed me a pair of 10 pound dumbbells. “Ok, start there,” she said. I looked at her in shock. “10 pounds? My backpack weighs more than 10 pounds, come on, this is silly.” She said, “You can either start with the 10 or you can go,” she said firmly.
Yes, I know I was probably allowing a bit of macho bullshit to invade my brain.
Yes, I know that I would be quickly moving up to where I’d feel it work my body.
Yes, I know that she was being cautious for my benefit, making sure my elbow was structurally and completely healed.
But…
No one wants to lose weight a quarter pound at a time.
No one wants to wait the 80 days from seed to cucumber in your salad.
No one wants to take the time it takes. But…
Small steps count.
They count especially when done with intention and effort.
They count when you focus on each step with careful and meaningful regard.
Small steps count.
