I worked out for the first time in 8 months this past weekend.

This may seem like a small feat, but this is, in fact, MAJOR for me.

I was working out 5x per week before I suffered an injury in February.

It was winter break. My son and I were riding bikes to the park to meet one of his classmates for a playdate.

I was in such a great place, newly hearing from God in a very clear and consistent way, working out, drinking water, enjoying family… all the things.

I hadn’t noticed the band on my water bottle, which I was wearing on my right wrist, caught on the upright end of my handlebar, so when I went to lift my hand to adjust my hair, the handlebar yanked hard to the right. In shock, leaning, and still attached to my handlebar, I couldn’t calculate how to steer the bike back into balance… so I fell, hard… in the street, without a free hand to break my fall.

My knee hit first, then my forehead.

My 7-year-old son, Jaden, rushed over concerned, “Mommy, Mommy, are you okay?”

I bumped my head, scrapped my leg, banged up my knee, and was still under the bike.

I told Jaden to grab my phone and call his dad.

I wasn't sure how hard I hit my head, but after sitting for the call, I thought, “I think I'm okay,” stood up, and walked the bike the 50 or so more yards to the park.

It was once I sat down on the park bench and examined my knee that I realized it was less knee and more belly and I was bleeding into the fabric of my black leggings.

My husband arrived, so I went home to ice and elevate my now swollen knee and the knot on my head.

That was it. I spent the rest of the winter break recovering on the couch instead of doing all the housework I thought I would catch up on during this staycation. The following week I returned to work, but didn’t trust my knee to do much more than carry my body.

So… I didn’t work out.

First, it was due to my recovery, then I was too busy with work, then it was summer, and now it is fall…

Doesn't it always happen that way?

Some really real thing happens, disrupts the good work you had going, then you can't quite get that spark back.

Life moves on and you just keep moving with it, thinking you’ll get back to it someday.

Well, that “someday” finally came for me.

This past Sunday, I decided to take a spin class on my bike.

Mentally, I wanted to start working out again for a while but was so afraid of the commitment.

See, when I do things, I'm all in.

I knew once I started, I would need to fit it into my daily schedule, track my workouts on my Apple watch, close all three activity rings daily, drink lots more water, take vitamins, and eat better so as to not negate my workout.

It wasn't the workout that I was afraid of, it was the pressure that I would put on myself to accomplish this grand lifestyle change.

But Sunday, I was sitting on the couch with my husband, watching football (and YouTube on my phone) and I looked over at my bike and said “I'm going to get on!”

No plan, no prep.

I did it.

It was hard.

Correction: It is hard (I'm still sore).

I am a novice all over again.

But it got done. And for that I'm grateful.

I share this story because ’tis the season for change.

Whatever your fall was, it's over now.

It's time to get back up.

Start today, however small, and let it snowball.

Don't let step 5 prevent you from taking step 1.

I'm rooting for you Reader!

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