It’s my newest mantra: Choose Your Hard. I think it when I want to scream “Suck!” with an “F” substituted for the “S” at the Suspension Training instructor, when he says, “Just ten more.” It’s hard, but I’d rather that hard than the hard of bad news from my doctor, than the hard of spending forty-five minutes trying to find something that not only fits but flatters and hides and draws your eyes up, away from everything that is me. I’d rather the hard of choosing not to indulge in the French fries, than the hard of feeling like the fattest person in the room. Choose your hard.
Because you’re gonna deal with “hard,” so you might as well hand-pick it. Every time something feels hard, when you just want to give up, ask yourself, “which hard is harder?” This is a lesson worthy of teaching your kids, and yourself. Make your choice. I love it.
And, yes, that sole person in the photo above is me. Alone. At the gym. Everyone else clearly got their hard out of the way earlier that day, which is better for everyone ’cause I rock out with my dance party moves when I hit the treadmill. #playlistwin