Eating the elephant

Starting something is hard. Starting again is harder.

I’ve been going to the gym on and off for 30 years. Long enough to know the routine, long enough to know the excuses, and long enough to know that progress is never a straight line.

Then, in March this year, I had a snowboarding accident. Yeah. I know. At my age. I'm an idiot.

The result was a prolapsed disc and five months of pain, immobility, and frustration. Five months without lifting anything heavier than my own self-doubt.

However, this week, I went back to the gym.

And let me be honest: it felt like I was right back at square one. The weights looked heavier than ever. The machines felt unfamiliar. Even walking through the doors was intimidating.

I found myself asking: How do you start again when you’re not sure you’ve got another restart in you?

Because that’s the real mountain. Not the injury. Not the weights.

The resistance.

Why Starting Again Feels Harder

When we do something for the first time, we have no expectations. We don’t know how strong we should be, or how far we should have come.

We just show up, clueless but open.

But starting again? That’s different. We remember how good we once were. We compare ourselves to a past version of us: the fitter, faster, lighter, stronger self. And against that version, today’s self feels like a failure.

That's why the mountain in front of us feels bigger. It’s not just the climb ahead of us that's daunting; it’s the shadow of the path behind.

In the gym, I caught myself thinking: I used to bench this much… I used to squat this easily… I used to recover quicker. Every “used to” made today’s effort feel smaller, weaker and much less impressive.

That voice, the one that says you’re not who you were, is the real enemy of progress.

The Weight of Doing Nothing

The hardest part of starting again isn’t the work itself. It’s shaking off the heaviness of being stuck.

That inner drag whispers: Why bother? You’ll never get back to where you were. You’ll quit again anyway. You might as well skip it today. Tomorrow will be easier.

But tomorrow rarely brings relief. Tomorrow just stretches into weeks, then months of waiting.

What I’ve learned, slowly, painfully, over decades, is that the burden of standing still is heavier than any dumbbell. The longer you carry it, the harder it is to move.

The only way to lift it, is to act. Even if it’s one rep. Even if it’s ten minutes on the bike. Even if it’s just showing up.

Momentum doesn’t come from waiting. It comes from moving.

Shrinking the Impossible Mountain (or the Enormous Elephant)

Walking back into the gym after five months off hit me with the same feeling I’ve had countless times over the years.

It was the exact same feeling you get when you start a new job, launch a new venture, or decide to finally put your idea out into the world.

You stand at the base of something huge, looking up, and the mountain feels impossible to climb.

In the gym, even the smell of the rubber mats and the cleaning spray carried a weird mix of familiarity and intimidation. For a moment, I thought: What if I can’t do this anymore?

It’s the same voice you hear before starting a business:

• What if I fail?

• What if I can’t do this?

• What if I’m not who I thought I was?

That voice tries to talk you out of even taking the first step. And if you listen, you’ll never begin anything.

But remember: no one builds a business in a day, just like no one regains their strength in one workout. Progress comes from starting small, showing up, and stacking tiny wins.

At the gym, I didn’t load the bar with what I used to lift. I picked the lightest weights and gave myself permission to do a fraction of what I once could. The point wasn’t to impress anyone. The point was to move.

It’s the same with a start up. You don’t need the perfect business plan, a polished website, or a big launch. You just need to make the first call, write the first email, ship the first version.

Starting small isn’t weakness, it’s strategy. Every step makes the mountain shrink.

And just like in the gym, the magic isn’t in the results you see immediately. It’s in the ritual of showing up, even when the voice in your head is telling you not to.

That’s how businesses are built. That’s how careers are reshaped. And that’s how confidence grows . One modest but deliberate step at a time.

What This Week Taught Me

Walking out of the gym on Tuesday, I didn’t feel strong. I didn’t feel accomplished. I didn’t even feel like I’d “done a proper workout.”

What I did feel was lighter. Not in body but in mind.

Because the mountain shrank.

It turns out the first step doesn’t have to be a leap. It doesn’t have to be heroic. It doesn’t even have to be impressive. It just has to be a step.

And once you’ve taken one step, the second step is easier. And then you have momentum.

And momentum is everything.

So take heart. Take a deep breath. And take that first step.

Not tomorrow.

Today.

Until next time,

Jon "Elephant Eater" Kaye

Choosing to live without chasing

P.S.

It's week two of Do Radio. One small step at a time. One mistake after another (and we've made a few already). It's hard. It's slow progress. But we've started. We have momentum.