I have been away for a bit.
Trying to sort through health and life is rarely simple, as many know. Lately, it has felt like a constant balancing act, working toward personal aspirations while dodging the increasing spears life throws your way.
Amidst that chaos, life still moved forward. I managed to complete an MBA with distinction, faced some truly daunting and fearful situations alongside my family, and yet, I am still here.
Coming back from a trip to England, I weighed 85 kg. At 1.73 m tall, I knew my BMI was not where I wanted it to be. At the same time, I found myself wrestling with another challenge: I had several important goals competing for my attention. Instead of making progress, I felt mentally overwhelmed trying to pursue everything at once.
So I made a decision.
Rather than trying to solve every problem immediately, I would begin with my health. I committed to walking 10,000 steps every day for the next 100 days as part of my personal "aspire to perspire" goal. My thinking was simple: while building my physical fitness, I could also gain the mental clarity needed to decide which larger goals deserved my full focus.
On the first day, I completed about 7 km, mostly at a brisk walking pace. Along the way, I met a few people in Leduc who were out running and exercising. It was encouraging to see others committed to their own journeys.
On the second day, I decided not to drive to the park. Instead, I walked the roughly 3 km from my house, allowing those steps to count toward my daily target. As I was nearing the park, I ran into an acquaintance I had met the previous day. He was already on his way home, but when he saw me, he turned around and said he would do one more lap if I joined him. I gladly accepted.
As usual, I started with a brisk walk, but he suggested we run instead. By then, I was already tired from walking and jogging to the park, but I agreed. We started jogging together.
He noticed my fatigue and encouraged me to push through it. He believed I could complete the 3 km lap. My breathing was not the problem; my legs were simply tired. So we alternated between running and brief walking intervals.
Then he shared something that completely shifted my perspective.
"Don't focus on the entire 3 km," he told me. "Pick a landmark ahead and don't stop until you reach it. Once you get there, choose the next one."
That simple advice changed how I looked at the path ahead, not just on the run, but in life.
When you are fighting through exhaustion, the sheer scale of a goal can become terrifying. Truth is, I nearly procrastinated a day off just recently. I had to kill sleep and grind out 4,000 of my steps right before midnight yesterday just to keep a 9-day streak alive on this personal Cupid target.
When focus is pinned strictly on the final target, every step becomes a transaction driven by anxiety over failure. Yet failure or success, both require energy. Success is sweet, but it is remarkably fleeting and forgettable. What endures is our experience of the process. That is what preserves our determination or leaves us carrying trauma.
Goals give us direction, but processes carry us there.
We often become so consumed with achieving our targets that we forget the landmarks along the way. Yet life is mostly lived in the process, not in the brief moment of accomplishment. Maybe that is why people sometimes feel empty even after achieving what they thought they wanted. They were so focused on the destination that they never learned to appreciate the road leading there.
The habits, routines, and systems we build along the way shape who we become. The process is where discipline is formed. It is where resilience grows. It is where character is built.
Whether I complete all 100 days or not, I want to love the daily practice itself. Because if you can build a process you enjoy and can repeat consistently, the goals will eventually take care of themselves.
Sometimes, the best way to reach a distant destination is not to stare at it constantly, but to simply keep reaching the next landmark.