The Plan is Made. Now Comes the Ugly Part.

Well, well, well. Here we are. The plan is done. The outlines are drawn. The path ahead is clear(ish). I’ve officially transitioned from a man with a vague dream of hiking 100 km to a man with a plan to hike 100 km. And for about five minutes, I felt pretty proud of myself. Look at me, all organized and goal-oriented! Someone hand me a gold star.

But then reality hit me like a rogue dumbbell at the gym: I actually have to do the things now. And let me tell you, folks, this is where the romance of the plan dies a slow, painful death.

Planning is easy. You can do it while sitting down. You can do it with snacks in hand. You can even do it while binge-watching a TV show that has nothing to do with hiking (unless you count watching people climb mountains in documentaries and yelling, “That’ll be me someday!”). But executing the plan? That’s a whole different beast. That’s where the rubber meets the road, or in my case, where the sneakers meet the treadmill. And let me tell you, the treadmill is not as forgiving as my couch.

The Planning Illusion

Here’s the thing about planning: it makes you feel productive without actually requiring you to be productive. It’s a sneaky little trick your brain plays on you. You sit down, write out a beautifully detailed schedule, color-code your goals, and maybe even buy a new water bottle to celebrate your newfound commitment to fitness. For a brief, shining moment, you feel like you’ve already accomplished something.

But then the plan just sits there, staring at you from the notebook or the app or the sticky note you slapped on the fridge. And it whispers, “I dare you to follow through.” And that’s when the panic sets in.

The Ugly Truth

Here’s the ugly truth: I have to start moving. I have to lace up my shoes, drag my sorry butt out the door, and actually put one foot in front of the other. I have to go to the gym and face the leg press machine like it’s my mortal enemy. I have to walk up hills and pretend I’m not dying inside. And I have to do it consistently. Not just once, not just when I feel motivated, but over and over and over again until my body starts to believe that this is its new normal.

And let’s be real, my body is not going to be happy about this. It’s been living the good life—lounging, snacking, and avoiding anything that remotely resembles exercise. My muscles are about as prepared for this as I am for a surprise pop quiz on quantum physics. There will be soreness. There will be whining. There will probably be a lot of sarcastic inner monologues about why I thought this was a good idea in the first place.

Step One: Just Start

The first step is the hardest. Literally. I mean, walking to the gym feels like an Olympic event right now. But I’ve decided to approach this like ripping off a Band-Aid: quick and painful, but necessary. No overthinking. No procrastinating. Just… start.

Can I jump straight to number ten?

Maybe I’ll start small. A 20-minute walk around the neighborhood. A quick session on the leg press machine at the gym. A hike so short it barely qualifies as a hike. The point is to get moving, to break the inertia, to remind my body that it’s capable of more than sitting.

And yes, it’s going to suck. The first few workouts will feel like punishment. My legs will burn, my lungs will protest, and my brain will try to convince me that quitting is the better option. But I know that if I can push through those first few miserable sessions, it’ll get easier. Not easy, mind you—just easier.

Step Two: Embrace the Suck

Here’s a little mantra I’ve been working on: “Embrace the suck.” Because let’s face it, there’s no way around it. The only way to get stronger, fitter, and more prepared for this 100 km hike is to push through the discomfort. To lean into the challenge instead of running away from it. And maybe, just maybe, to find a weird kind of joy in the process.

Because as much as I hate to admit it, there’s something satisfying about doing hard things. About proving to yourself that you’re capable of more than you thought. About feeling your body get stronger, one grueling workout at a time. And about knowing that every step, every squat, every drop of sweat is bringing you closer to your goal.

Step Three: Keep the Humor Alive

Of course, I’m not going to take this whole thing too seriously. I mean, come on—it’s me. If I can’t laugh at myself while I’m huffing and puffing up a hill, what’s the point? Humor is my secret weapon. It’s what’s going to keep me going when the going gets tough. That, and snacks. Lots and lots of snacks.

So, here’s the deal: I’m going to give this my best shot. I’m going to follow the plan, even when I don’t feel like it. I’m going to embrace the suck, even when it feels like too much. And I’m going to keep laughing, even when my legs feel like jelly and my lungs are begging for mercy.

Because at the end of the day, this isn’t just about hiking 100 km. It’s about proving to myself that I can do hard things. That I can set a goal and follow through. That I can get off the couch and into the wild, one step at a time.

So, here’s to the ugly part. The hard part. The part where the plan becomes reality.