Fitness is earned. No one can buy it for you or hand it to you in a pretty, pink bow. You have to work at it, practice it to get better and better- no one can give it to you or take it away. Someone can buy you your house, your car, your purse. Someone can hand you everything you’ve ever wanted without you having to work a day in your life for it- but not fitness. No one can buy you your marathon. No one can hand you your new deadlift Personal Record or your new one-rep-max for squats or bench. You have to earn it. You have to spend hours, days, weeks, months in the gym to get it.

You can buy yourself the cutest little workout outfit, spending hundreds of dollars on the newest, softest, brightest fabric. Hell, you can look like the most perfect little Barbie in the entire gym, but you can’t go to a store and purchase your work ethic. You can’t order your next fastest 5k time over the internet. You can’t ask for better biceps for Christmas. You won’t get a stronger ass  for your birthday. But I’m not talking about bodies. You can buy those. You can march your ass over to the nearest plastic surgeon and buy your newest body. I’m talking about speed, and strength, and reps, and pounds, and time, and sweat.

And I think that’s why I’m so obsessed. I am so in love with the fact that in a world where it seems like everyone around me was born with a silver spoon in their mouth, I can still go to the gym and level the playing field. No amount of money can buy these people their squats. Or sprints. Or pull-ups. Or dead lifts. Or cleans. Or burpees. We’re all working for it. Some harder than others. Some not at all. But the weights don’t care how tired you are, how much you make for a living, what you look like. The treadmill doesn’t care if your legs are sore and you want to slow down. The gym doesn’t discriminate. There’s just no way around it. You either put the work in and get better or you don’t. Fitness is earned.