Beep! Beep! Beep!
“Ugh,” I whisper, eyeing today’s calendar. Normally, I wake ready—but not this Tuesday. I’d slept poorly and felt it from the start.
Still, habit is powerful. I zombie-walk to the bathroom, and 15 minutes later, I’m out the door. “Man, I’m tired” loops in my head.
I arrive at the office, brew coffee, pour a tumbler of caffeine, grab my gym bag, and step into the dark morning. The devil whispers, “Skip the workout.” The angel counters, “You’ve gotta shower and shave there anyway—just go.”
At the locker, the devil says, “Shower, shave, then bail.” But the angel says, “Put your gym clothes on—you might catch some wind.”
With gym clothes on, I start warming up—and feel no spark. I know lifting isn’t happening. The devil laughs. The angel suggests cardio. Twelve minutes on the treadmill, and I’m still half asleep.
Then the angel lets me off the hook:
“If you go through all the motions and it’s still not happening, it wasn’t meant to be.”
So I shower, shave, and head back to the office—guilt-free.
This is the strength of ritual: a consistent structure that usually triggers performance—and when it fails, becomes your permission to let go without self-judgment.
