It’s 11:30 at night. An hour and a half ago I sat down to blog but have been procrastinating ever since by cleaning out my email inbox and searching online for alternative health solutions. I really don’t know what to talk about today. Once this afternoon and once this evening I practiced knitting, and I’d rather be doing that. Or reading a book. Or watching Netflix. (The fifth season of Grace and Frankie just came out.) Really, I’d rather be doing anything else but writing. Oh look–there’s a jar of peanut butter.

Eating peanut butter sounds like a good thing to do.

Last night after blogging, I went to the gym. I really like going late at night; there’s hardly anyone there. That being said, because my gym’s not open late on the weekends, today I went this afternoon. And whereas there were some hot bodies to look at (well, one in particular), it was definitely more crowded and less fun. Hell, I thought I was gonna have to fight an old lady for the last available exercise bicycle. Thankfully, she was apparently eyeing another piece of equipment. But still, I usually have all five bikes to myself, and today I felt crowded. I guess conspicuous is a better word. In my opinion, my rehab exercises look weird. You know how you assume everyone’s staring at you constantly, even though they’re not.

The truth–nobody gives a shit what you’re doing.

When I got home from the gym, I took a nap. Because my achy leg wakes me up constantly during the night, nap time is the best part of my day. It’s fabulous. Also, this lack of solid sleep thing is a drag, a serious drag. Even now, despite the nap, I’m finding it difficult to concentrate or string two thoughts together. My mind and body are just done. Go back to sleep, they’re saying. Maybe this is why Netflix or knitting sound appealing. Neither requires much mental power.

Hum. That’s something. I just said knitting doesn’t require much mental power, which means it’s getting easier. (I just learned a few days ago.) That’s good. Likewise, doing my rehab exercises and going to the gym are getting easier. They’re becoming part of my routine. Not necessarily a fun part, mind you, but a part nonetheless.

Where am I going with this?

I said earlier that I didn’t want to write tonight. Still, here I am writing, so clearly a part of me does want to write tonight. Sometimes people say I’m disciplined–I write every day, I do my rehab exercises consistently, whatever. And whereas I agree that I’m disciplined in these areas, since I know there are areas in my life in which I’m not disciplined, I usually just think of myself as being “sold on” these activities that I consistently do. That is, I really want to be a writer and am sold on the idea that writers write. I’m sold on the idea that if I do this every day for a certain period of time, I’ll learn something valuable. Along the same lines, despite the fact that I hate having injured my leg, I’m sold on the idea that if I do my rehab exercises, I’ll get better. One day I’ll run again; one day I’ll dance again. So I do the thing even when I don’t feel like it.

I guess that’s my point tonight. If it’s worth doing–if there’s some reward on the other side of doing it–you’re probably rarely going to feel like doing it. It’s not a warm, fuzzy message, I realize. It’s just the truth. There is a warm, fuzzy part, however. Once you do the thing, then the good feeling comes. For example, now that this blog is over, I’m glad I did it. I feel a sense of pride, of accomplishment that no one can take away. So that’s the deal–a part of you will never feel like doing the difficult thing–never. Whatever it is, it’s difficult for a reason. That is, it’s not fun. But a great part of you will always feel good after having done the difficult thing–always. The fun comes after the fact.