When Motivation Disappears — What Then?

Yesterday I sat in my car outside the gym for a good five minutes, trying to negotiate my way out of going in. Just that quiet resistance — the kind where everything feels like too much effort. I briefly considered all my options: go home, make coffee, phone a friend, maybe even congratulate myself for thinking about exercise. Unfortunately, I had already packed my gym bag. Water bottle filled. Earbuds charged. Past Me had left very little room for excuses. So, I went in. Not enthusiastically. Not heroically. Just… reluctantly.

I’ve learnt that on days like this, the trick is not to aim high — it’s to just show up. I lower the bar. I walk instead of run. I join a class, so I don’t have to think too much. I make it easier on myself.

Some days I set small challenges — a slightly steeper incline, a slightly faster pace, a bit more weight. Nothing impressive. Just enough to feel like I tried. And I reward myself for it. Sometimes it’s a smoothie. Sometimes something small like a new gym T-shirt. (It doesn’t take much to keep me motivated, clearly.)

And then there’s my not-so-secret weapon — I hang up a pair of jeans or a dress that used to fit comfortably. Not as punishment. Just as a quiet reminder of where I’d like to be again.

I also occasionally recruit my “coffee date” friend. It turns out accountability works far better when there’s someone else expecting you to arrive.

What I’ve realised — slowly — is that motivation is not reliable. It comes and goes as it pleases. Some days it shows up. Most days it doesn’t. It’s a bit like that friend who always cancels at the last minute. So, I’ve stopped waiting for it. Instead, I focus on consistency. Not perfection. Just consistency. Because the truth is — I always feel better afterwards. Not because I had the perfect workout, but because I showed up for myself. And at this stage of my life, that matters more than anything.

I want to stay strong. Independent. Able to get up from a low couch without using my hands (which, apparently, is more important than I ever realised).

Some days the gym feels too loud, too busy, too much. A mountain walk. Fresh air. A few photographs. A reminder that movement doesn’t always have to happen inside four walls. On those days, I go outside instead.

A quiet morning over False Bay, Helderberg Basin

What matters is that I keep going.

Gently.

Imperfectly.

But consistently.

— Frannie B. ☕