The spell is broken: halfway through 75 Hard and I’m finally able to notice some changes in my progress picture for the very first time. They aren’t major differences, but enough that I no longer feel gaslit by my own eyes.

Unfortunately, what has always accompanied moments like this for me is the unwelcome reality of how far I still have left to go. I unconsciously zone in on the areas of my body that bother me most and bore hate into them with my laser eyeballs, as if the heat from my resentment will melt the fat right off. (Spoiler alert: it has not.)

I’m not feeling deflated or discouraged, but I am feeling tired. It’s the familiar moment of being a third of the way up a very steep hill I’m walking and knowing the only way to the top is to keep putting one weary foot in front of the other and dragging my wide load all the way up. How the heck long am I gonna have to drag my ass until I get there? UGH.

And yet, I have nothing to reasonably complain about. I have only been at this for a little over 3 months, and my progress has been remarkable. That virtue of patience I hear so much about is not one I possess, but keeping things in perspective, I am dropping weight quite quickly with the help of 75 Hard. I know that won’t last forever; the losses will slow as there’s less to lose, and I will have a new level of mental toughness to attain.

Until then, I’ll look back at the distance I’ve covered so far and be proud of my aching feet for putting it behind me.