Every eight weeks we have testing week at the gym.
To most people it’s just another week of training.
To me?
It’s the week the black fog rolls in.
I wish I could tell you that after all these years it doesn’t affect me anymore. That I casually walk in, lift some weights and whatever happens, happens.
That would be a lie.
Even though I know better…
Even though I tell myself it’s just another training session…
Even though I try not to let it consume me…
It does.
Because I don’t compete against anyone else.
I compete against the person I was eight weeks ago.
The only scorecard that matters to me is whether I’ve improved.
Did I lift more?
Did I move better?
Did I become stronger?
If I don’t hit a personal best, I walk away feeling like I’ve failed.
I know that’s probably harder on myself than I need to be, but it’s the standard I’ve always held.
The funny thing is, I don’t chase those numbers recklessly.
I protect my form.
I make sleep a priority.
My nutrition is dialled in.
Recovery matters.
I’m not prepared to sacrifice long-term progress for one lift.
And of course, in the lead-up I play it down.
“I’m not really worried about testing week.”
“I’ll just see how I go.”
Meanwhile… it’s all I can think about.
The older I get, the more I realise testing week has very little to do with the gym.
It’s a reminder that consistency beats motivation.
Discipline beats talent.
Showing up beats waiting until you feel like it.
There are plenty of mornings when my alarm goes off at 4:45am and I’d much rather stay in bed.
But I get up anyway.
Not because I always want to.
Because that’s who I choose to be.
You show up for yourself first.
Then you show up better for everyone else.
The lessons carry into every part of my life.
Into work.
Into leadership.
Into relationships.
Into the promises I make to myself.
Consistency isn’t glamorous.
Discipline isn’t exciting.
They’re often repetitive, boring and uncomfortable.
But that’s exactly where confidence is built.
One decision at a time.
One morning at a time.
One rep at a time.
And then there are the people.
Every morning at 5:30am I’m surrounded by people who simply get it.
People who aren’t making excuses.
People who celebrate your wins as if they were their own.
People who push you when you think you’re done.
People who cheer louder for your PB than you do yourself.
That environment changes you.
Because who you spend your time with matters.
Energy is contagious.
Standards are contagious.
Success is contagious.
The biggest myth I hear is that age becomes the excuse.
Not for me.
At 52, I’m stronger than I’ve ever been.
Not because I’m special.
Because I kept showing up.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Testing week will always make me nervous.
The black fog will probably keep turning up every eight weeks.
But maybe that’s a good thing.
Because it reminds me that I still care.
I still have room to grow.
I still haven’t reached my ceiling.
And as long as I keep showing up, there’ll always be another personal best waiting for me.
