Two months in, and I have not completed a single book this year.

That’s not to say I’m not reading. It’s also not an indication I’m not working on myself—I am.

As a numbers person, I set a daily push-ups goal I could adhere to: one push-up for today’s day of the year. So, January 1? I did one push-up. Today? Sixty-four.

I am surprised at the results I am seeing from this simple resolution. Never in my life have I had pectorals that pop... until now. Plus, I was able to continue with the push-up regimen while I was unable to lift weights in the gym due to a shoulder injury last November.

As far as the books I am reading, one is a re-read—of which I am taking notes, slowing down the process. The others are rather deep reads. Currently, there is no fiction included, which tends to fly by faster and boost my reading speed. There are a couple on my shelf competing for attention, perhaps it is time to crack them open.

There is also a lot on my plate. I’d like to sell everything—well, almost everything—yet I find saying that and doing that are very different. As my life coach pointed out last weekend, I fail to hustle. That statement hit close to home. I have a deep lazy streak, and most days it seems I’d rather just forget about it and take a nap, then to actually tolerate, much less challenge, any uncertainty or pain in my life. Being aware of that is a beginning, right?

So, I’m not reading. I am still moving forward... it’s time to pick up the pace. Jog, run, fly.