Do it anyway

We talk a lot about feelings around here — probably more than most gyms, to be fair — but there's a good reason for that. How we feel heading into a movement session, how we feel during it, and how we feel after really matters.

I've recently seen a lot of social media content around the idea of 'doing it anyway'. As in, regardless of how you feel, the mantra should be to show up and do what you can. Now, I don't necessarily agree with this entirely. There are definitely exceptions to this rule, and far be it from me to tell someone who feels absolutely cooked that I'll see them at 6am.

What I do think, though, is that it's always worth challenging the 'I can't' to some extent. I'll use myself as an example here — because obviously. For those who aren't aware of my life outside the gym, I compete in a couple of strength sports, currently powerlifting (squat, bench press, and deadlift). The training around this is honestly very tedious and at times nothing short of a grind. By the time I get to a competition I feel completely spent — sore, exhausted, and honestly pretty devoid of enthusiasm for the event I've been training months for.

This was 10000% the case heading into my most recent competition, a couple of weeks ago now, in Hobart. My life had gotten a bit chaotic, and most sessions in the weeks leading up felt like maximum effort just to get through — even when I knew I wasn't anywhere near my actual capacity. On top of the usual physical tiredness, I was mentally and emotionally cooked. Struggling to get through each day, crying for no reason, forgetting how to play Uno — all that fun stuff. Regardless, I kept ticking off the last remaining sessions with zero energy or enjoyment, privately considering bailing on the whole thing right up until the morning of the event.

I made the decision that morning that I would go in with one intention: to prove I could show up when I didn't feel like it. That's it. No attachment to numbers or performance — just the stubbornness of having gotten that far and refusing to wave the white flag. I took the day one step at a time, forcing myself to stay in the present. Just register. Just get through weigh-in. Just put your suit on. Just do your mobility. Just do this first set on the empty bar. Just make this first lift. Head down, one foot in front of the other, focused on every single moment.

And it worked. Once I started, I became so intent on what I was doing that everything I'd been feeling seemed suddenly less relevant. I wasn't tired, nothing hurt, the cold I'd had lingering all week seemed to disappear, and I found some inner drive and strength I didn't know I had. I ended up with personal bests in each lift, a gold medal, and — most importantly — proof that I was capable of so much more than I thought, even on my worst day.

Now, this isn't to say we should all grind through every level of physical and mental discomfort for the sake of lifting something heavy. But I do think there's something to be said for challenging that voice in our heads that says we couldn't possibly. Whether inside the gym or out, we often find ourselves in situations that feel impossible or insurmountable — and it's in challenging those thoughts that we can find a whole new level of strength and growth.

So maybe the 'do it anyway' crowd aren't entirely wrong. They're just missing a bit of nuance. Because it's not really about ignoring how you feel — it's about feeling all of it, and choosing to show up anyway. Not for a number on a leaderboard, not because someone told you to, but for the version of yourself that exists on the other side of that decision. Do it for the feeling you'll have when you're done. Do it for the proof. Do it for the gold medal you didn't think you had in you.

Do it anyway — but do it for you.