I wanted to tell you when I saw you on the recumbent bike at the gym, but I’m not the type to walk up and just tell someone how inspiring they are.
No, really, you are.
There are plenty of skinny girls who talk and run at the same time on the treadmill, barely breaking a sweat as they ramp up the incline and increase the speed. There are women my age and older who look fit and can crank away on the elliptical at speeds I’m still dreaming of.
They don’t inspire me.
I have no way of knowing for sure, but it’s possible you’re like me. Anything I eat goes straight to my waistline.
I can tell it’s not easy for you, but you are here. You’re working out. You’re making the effort. You’re making a difference. You’ve decided to make a change and you’re following through with it.
And that’s what’s inspiring.
I see you churning away at the pedals so I turn it up a notch on this medieval torture device of which I don’t even know its name.
You keep going. I’ll keep going.
We’ll get there, sister.
Oh. we will get there.