It's hard to stay on track.
It's why I roll my eyes when people remark on my supposedly steadfast discipline, or assume that I'm just naturally a go-getter and everything easily falls into place for me as a result. Because it doesn't. Of course, I love seeing things get accomplished and I love results, but that doesn't mean I naturally fall into line when it comes to doing what I need to do to get said results.
It takes an extra kick in the butt sometimes. In the fitness world, sometimes it takes me imagining that I'm a professional athlete -- and a professional athlete would never skimp out on a run or a yoga session because they don't feel like it. I've been gritting my teeth as I slowly build up my upper body strength. Sometimes the only thing that keeps me from dropping the idea of actually doing a proper set of push-ups completely is the attitude that, in some alternative universe, I'm a professional MMA fighter and what fighter doesn't have good upper body strength?
And it's the same with writing. In a way, it's my writer's mind that keeps everything else in line. Imagining a world where I'm an athlete, or I've hit it big as a model. Or I've finally sold a manuscript and it somehow became the mega-hit I know it could be. I've been editing my first manuscript at a fevered pace (ironically, when I had a fever last week, my editing ground to a screeching hault). I've been doing this blog, even on days when the last thing in the world I want is to write. I've been editing essays and sending them off and responding back to reader's emails. I've been editing my modeling essay collection, only to constantly rewrite entire paragraphs. And it's all driven by the idea that, in some parallel universe, I've made my millions writing books that resonate.
I'd love to be the type of person who is crazy-disciplined and can essentially turn into a machine. But I can't. So my discipline comes in more roundabout ways, and through more creative outlets.