A dear friend of mine is helping me break free of “try.”

Every time I say “I’ll try,” she reminds me to do 20 push-ups.  (Though, I can actually only do 10 at a time, so I space it out.  Still, my arms are starting to feel mostly tired, and look pretty great.)

This afternoon our family hiked a local path complete with adult fitness training stations.  Pit stops for push-ups, rope climbs, sit-ups, balance beams and the likes.

The chin-up station gave me the most pause.

“I’m pretty sure I haven’t attempted one of these in fifteen years,” I confessed, out loud.

Then I thought about that not trying thing – and my recent arm work – and committed to doing at least one.

I started with some good grounding breaths.

Pull energy up from the earth, right up from the earth. (I looped this over and over in my head.) Now jump.

And I did – and to my surprise – caught the bar.  Now pull.  And I did…but…Now pull.  Again, I did…but…Now…I lost my grip.

My biceps started twitching.  I felt remarkably weak.  There’s only do or don’t do – and I’d just not done.

I took another breath and recalled the Fuck It meditation that the same friend sent me just last night.

More breaths.  Fuck it.  Let that shit go.

And I did, and that’s when I noticed the ladder structure right next to the chin-up bar, and realized I could do a modified chin-up from there…and in fact, I could do three.

When I was done, my biceps were still twitching but they felt stronger – and I did, too.

Fuck it.