One push-up in front of the run club
That's where it started. Here's where it went.
To anyone who might have noticed me in the corner of the gym, what I had just done didn’t look like much. They were probably more concerned that I was lying face down on the mat, inhaling whatever germs lived there.
I didn’t care. I wanted to stay there, feel my heart pounding, and take in what I had done.
For most of my life, exercise fit easily into my routine. Sometimes after work, sometimes early in the morning before anyone else was awake. It just happened.
But then there were the years—honestly, a decade—where the responsibilities of family, work, and home were so all-consuming that it usually came down to either a workout for me or a walk for the dogs. The dogs always won.
Eventually I fell so far away from any kind of regular exercise routine for myself, I didn’t even know how to get back to it.
In 2024, after 10+ years of kneeling down on the same right knee during photo shoots, I found myself in physical therapy trying to nurse that poor neglected joint back to a happy place.
The physical therapist I was seeing employed a whole-body approach to my treatment.
I’m not sure if that was his regular protocol or if he could just tell this woman needed strengthening…everywhere.
So, he assigned me regular leg exercises but also had me on a bike doing cardio and started me on push-ups with my knees down. The kind where I looked like a capital Z that has been toppled over: Feet in the air, knees down, straight line up to my shoulders, and arms braced on the mat.
Now, let me set the scene for you, these push-ups happened toward the end of my session which was exactly when the Rose City Run Club showed up. A group of about 25 perky, in-their-physical-prime, 20- to 30-year-olds meeting after work to go for a run. And they would just mill about chatting, and sometimes spill over to the mat where I was in my toppled Z position trying to do these push-ups.
That first day, in the middle of all the activity, I managed…one.
Needless to say, that felt like a huge disappointment. One. And I felt a little embarrassed about it amongst all the runners who honestly weren’t paying any attention to me, even though it felt like it.
But each session, my physical therapist would have me keep at it and by the time I finished with all of my needed PT sessions in July, I had made it up to 6 push-ups. I kept going with my strengthening routine on my own and by the end of the year, I was at 12.
I don’t know where I saw this, probably on Instagram. ;-) Some woman was talking about how one of the keys to longevity is the “50-Rule”: 50 sit-ups, 50 squats, 50-second wall sit, 50-second plank, 50 pull-ups and 50 push-ups. Something like that. I have no idea if this is true and God knows I will never do 50 pull-ups…but I was intrigued.
It was the beginning of 2025, my daughter had recently gotten engaged and her wedding was planned for 12/28/25. Perfect timeline.
I’m one to set annual goals. Usually one big overarching goal for something I want to accomplish but also, smaller micro-goals that I can track. Goals that challenge me, but I can realistically meet.
So for 2025, as part of my health goal (and let’s be honest, as part of my “need to wear a mother-of-the-bride dress” by the wedding), I set the micro-goal of 50 push-ups with my knees down by the end of the year.
I could do them at home or at the gym, in workout clothes or jeans and a sweater. A couple sessions a week and track my progress. That was it.
I made it from 12 to 20 push-ups fairly quickly. I remember thinking, this might be easy. Maybe I’ll even move on to full push-ups. And then I sat between 20-25 push-ups for 6 months. I couldn’t get past it. At one point, I dropped back down to 12. My arms simply would not go on.
So I gave it a rest.
When I came back to it in mid-August, that is where you found me at the beginning of the story. I was at the gym, end of my workout, my same “pump me up” playlist piping through my headphones, and I had managed to make it to 25 and then somehow I pushed to 30. I couldn’t believe it. I never thought I would break past the barrier. But I did and that’s why I just laid there. Taking it in. Sweat, beating heart, germs…all of it.
I kept going and by mid-November I had made it to 42. By mid-December I was at 45.
Two weeks left to reach my goal, but something happened to my left arm. Maybe overuse. Maybe pushing too hard to 50 with questionable form, but I had definitely strained the muscles. I felt myself practically cradling it as we worked through all of the wedding prep.
I wasn’t going to make the goal. I had to let it go and focus on Christmas and my daughter’s wedding.
On December 30th, all of the festivities were behind us and the exhaustion was setting in. In the back of my mind, I knew there were only two days left to make my push-up goal.
I was in the kitchen drinking coffee, trying to wake enough to drive my middle guy to the airport. He’d been in town for all the festivities and sauntered into the kitchen to join me before we needed to take off.
“Hey Mom, did you ever make it to your push-up goal?”
I looked up at him, “No. I made it to 45 but I couldn’t get past it. And ever since then my arm’s been injured. I’m not going to make it. I’m so bummed.”
He paused for a second and then brightened up and said, “Mom, you got this. Put a heating pad on that arm. Take some Advil. Put your music on. And then just go bang them out. When you get to 45, don’t think about it…just keep going. You can do it.”
I smiled at him. “I appreciate the vote of confidence. That’s a good idea. I’ll think about it.”
Later that evening, I put a heating pad on my arm, took a couple Advil, and went to sleep.
December 31st rolled around and the post holiday/wedding fatigue was at an all-time high. There was no possible way I was going to the gym. I wasn’t sure I would even get out of my jammies.
The morning rolled into lunchtime, rolled into afternoon. By 4pm, I told myself now or never.
I set myself up in my bedroom, wearing the sweats I had managed to put on, slapped on my headphones, turned on my music, and set my phone up to record me so if I did it, I’d have proof.
The next day, I texted my son and attached the video. “Well, it wasn’t pretty, but I did it. Thanks for the pep talk.”
He responded, “Yay!!! Congrats!! I’m so proud of you.”
When I watch back the video, you can see me pause briefly at 20, and then 30, and then at 45 a longer pause. I adjust my hands and arms, and then I keep going to 50.
I replied back to my son, “New push-up goal for 2026: 50 with knees up and good form!”
I’m currently reading How We Change (And Ten Reasons Why We Don’t) by Ross Ellenhorn. It’s not a quick read. More the kind where you take in a few pages and sit with them. This past week, I picked it up and landed on Reason Not to Change #7: Staying the same protects you from the insult of small steps.
Further in the chapter he writes,
“Big changes require incremental steps, and these in turn require two kinds of toughness—one is to persevere through the simple hard work that these steps demand; the other is to accept the humility that small steps demand.”
That perfectly summed up my push-up goal.
I have found for myself that in doing these micro-goals each year which require some humility (One push-up in front of the Run Club!) and repeated steps of simple hard work, they help build up the mental muscle I need to accomplish the bigger goals I’ve set for myself.
If you’ve got bigger goals you can’t seem to make progress on, I’d encourage you to set a micro-goal for yourself. It doesn’t have to center around exercise. It could be learning a skill, starting a hobby, tending to a relationship, organizing a space (Hello, garage!), or just reading more books.
Something simple to do and simple to set up. Something challenging but not impossible, and something you can track over time.
I’m not sure I’ll reach my new goal. These “knees up” push-ups are much harder. I did make it to 12 last time I was at the gym but that was a month ago. Life has already thrown me sideways this year, but I’ll keep tracking my progress and let you know.
In the meantime, if you’re going after something and starting to waver, as my son said to me, “You got this! Don’t think about it…just keep going.”
Cheers,
Carrie