There’s a pull-up bar in my office. Every day I jump up and try to do one pull-up when I get in, one around lunch, one at two p.m. and one before I go home for the day. In four weeks, I’ve gone from being terrible at pull-ups to being able to do one (on a good day).
Today, I walked over, jumped up and did a relatively good pull-up. It wasn’t perfect, but I was happy with the effort I put in. I knew it was the best I could do today, and that was good enough. As I headed back to my desk, I heard one of the guys from that section yell: “You won’t get in shape from doing just one.”
If only I’d known who said it, I would have told him that the key to getting better at these type of exercises is practice. That I’d gone from struggling to do a jumping negative to being able to do a dead-hang pull-up in only four weeks. That I’d like to see him try to do five in one go. But as I turned, I didn’t see him, so I was forced to go back to my desk, sit down, and feel dejected even though my pull-up had been okay.
Now, I’m not saying everything I did today met with that kind of reaction, but if you were to assume that it did, you wouldn’t be far off. I’m going to curl up on the couch with peppermint tea and wait for tomorrow.