For most people, Memorial Day marks the unofficial start of summer. It’s a time for
grilling, relaxing, and convincing yourself that you’ll definitely use that gym membership
more often this year. Bikini body time right?!
For me, Memorial Day means voluntarily signing up for several hundred repetitions of
discomfort.

This year marked my fifteenth consecutive year completing Murph, the
workout named after Navy Lieutenant Michael Murphy, who was killed in action in
Afghanistan in 2005.

The workout consists of a one-mile run, 100 pull-ups, 200 push-ups, 300 air squats, and another one-mile run. Some people even wear a weighted vest. I have years Passt, but this year I kept it in the garage!
I’ve done Murph long enough to remember when I thought recovery from the workout
would take a day or two. Now I consider it a victory if I can sit down normally by
Thursday.

What’s funny is that every year, as Memorial Day approaches, I somehow forget exactly
how hard Murph is. My memory becomes incredibly selective.

I remember the camaraderie.

I remember the sense of accomplishment.

I remember the post-workout conversations.

I remember I can do hard things.

I remember I am doing this in honor of the service members that lost their lives.

What I conveniently forget is the moment around pushup number 120 and squat
number 217 when I start negotiating with myself like a hostage negotiator.

For the past six years, I’ve completed Murph with my friends from the Fully Vested
Recovery Movement. That’s become one of my favorite parts of the day. There’s
something special about gathering with people who are committed to living better lives
and then collectively making the decision to do something that leaves everyone walking
funny afterward.

The atmosphere is always incredible. There are first-timers wondering what they’ve
gotten themselves into, veterans offering encouragement, and plenty of laughter mixed
in with the suffering.

It’s the kind of event where people cheer for each other regardless of how fast they finish. Everyone is simply trying to keep moving forward.

Kind of like life.

It really matters who you surround yourself with.

As someone in recovery, I’ve come to appreciate how much Murph mirrors the
principles that help us stay sober. Nobody finishes the workout all at once. You take it
one rep at a time. One set at a time. One mile at a time.

The same is true in recovery. When the task feels overwhelming, you focus on the next
right thing. And while the workout is challenging, that’s not really why we do it. Murph is
ultimately about remembrance. It’s an opportunity to honor the men and women who
gave their lives in service to our country. Spending an hour or two being uncomfortable is a small gesture compared to the sacrifices made by those who never came home.

That perspective tends to carry me through the difficult parts of the workout.
As I looked around this year, I felt grateful.

Grateful for another year of sobriety.

Grateful for the friendships I’ve built through recovery.

Grateful for a community that continues to show up for one another, whether it’s for life’s biggest challenges or 300 squats on a Monday morning.

Fifteen years later, Murph still humbles me. It still hurts. It still makes me question my
decision-making abilities somewhere in the middle. And somehow, I know I will be back
next year.

After all, Memorial Day traditions are important. Even the slightly insane ones.