Why I do this stuff...

[KeysMcGee]

I couldn't find the blog section on here that had been set up a while back. It's been ages since I've been on this site, so it must've been taken off. I was saving this thought for a post there, but it doesn't matter. Hopefully you guys can bear with me here if I ramble a bit, but this has come up for me. TL;DR. I know, I know. I just needed to vent/speak my mind for a bit, and this seemed to be as good of a place as any. More importantly, it seems like a fairly safe place to vent. Though if this is misplaced, I don't mind if it gets moved somewhere else. Or deleted. Whatever.

Anyway, I keep getting asked "why" when I tell people that I train for strength. Not the "what's your secret" kind of "why." More the "why" that comes with incredulous stares, raised eyebrows, and shrugged shoulders. I guess people see me and the two words they don't expect to hear come from me are "strength training." I get it. I do.

And it doesn't help that I just crank out some bs answer for them. The best that I can give them is "Well, it's because I'm curious to see how far I can take my body. It's a means of discovery for me." That's all true, of course, but it's not the real reason.

So, here it is. The real reason. And this is my coming to terms with it. I'll give you cues if you want to skip the angsty parts.

Also, sorry it's so long. It's been a while since I've been writing, so I haven't been able to practice being as concise as I should be.

--angst--

Three years ago (roughly), my girlfriend of one year broke up with me. One year isn't a long time at all, but that one event changed my life. I daresay that the two years that followed were quite possibly the darkest two years of my life. It was as if my entire world and everything that I knew shattered before my eyes, and I was left just holding the pieces scrambling desperately to fit them back together. I lost my faith. I drank more. I tuned out and pushed away everything and everybody. Nothing else mattered. I even contemplated taking my own life a few times. I cried myself to sleep on several occasions.

I was pissed off, too. I dated girls just to break their hearts. I wanted to cause pain. I wanted others to see the same hurt that I felt. I flipped back and forth between despair and rage.

Much of this was because I blamed myself for what happened. I knew that I made several mistakes in that relationship. For someone that meant so much to me, you'd think I'd have paid more attention to her. You'd think I'd have been a little less temperamental. I'd have done this better. I'd have done that better. So on.

Thankfully, most of the childish temper-tantrum behavior didn't last too long. I still blamed myself, though. My ex still haunted me even though she had long since forgotten that I'd even existed. I found a new relationship with a wonderful girl, but with all of what had happened before, I approached things as though it was some chance handed down from the heavens to make things right again. I got so wrapped up in my second chance, that I never saw how I was still being eaten away on the inside.

--/angst--

Then, I started working out. I'm not sure how, but I stumbled upon this site and began with the Rebel Fitness program. I decided that I enjoyed playing with the big barbells more, so I later switched to a Starting Strength based program and then to Stronglifts 5X5. For me, the exercises were a means of self discovery, but they were more than that.

I was a frail Dr. Jekyll until I grasped the bar. At that point, I poured everything that I'd felt onto that steel bar and let all of that rage transform me into a Mr. Hyde. Confined in the narrow bars of a squat rack, I finally became free. With every grunt or hiss of air through my teeth, I poured out my feelings. It became a way for me to come to terms with my weaknesses. It became a way for me to rebuild myself from the wreckage that surrounded me. I found a new faith, not in some distant god or other being, but in myself. Through working to increase my physical strength, I reached deep inside myself to find a spiritual strength that I never knew existed.

The grooves of the bars became a source of comfort for me. Where ever my hands felt the knurling, I knew that I would be safe. I came to terms with who I was and finally learned to forgive myself and to forgive Ashley. More importantly, I finally learned to take the advice of a friend upon whose shoulder I poured out everything that I'd felt in those two years: Move on.

So why do I lift? Why am I willing to spend my hard-earned money learning the Olympic lifts? Why am I willing to put in the time and energy into becoming stronger?

Because lifting weights saved my life. Because the weights created me from nothing and gave me a purpose. Because it makes me feel safe. Because in overcoming the weight, I learn to overcome myself.

[Kishi]

I kind of know where you're coming from.

I don't have access to a gym, myself. I have access to Planet Fitness, but they've outlawed certain lifts there, so the way I see it, I don't have access to a gym - just an air-conditioned place that has machines and curlbros. And my life, for the past month or so, has been doing its damnedest to come apart at the seams.

It's a relatively simple thing compared to other people's lives. Unlike others, I don't believe enough in myself to foster deep relationships with members of the opposite sex, so there's one less complication. I serve at my church, work at my job, play the voice of reason for my crazy friends, and generally comport myself in a very quiet manner.

That doesn't make it easy, though. I lost my job, and my life is a lonely one sometimes, painful to the point that it drives me crazy. I never really lash out about it, never really make any fuss - I just bury it down deep, and something about the way I do it makes it stay buried.

I'm at the point where I'm not overweight anymore. I'm actually at what is considered a medically acceptable weight. Most of my friends aren't - I'm stronger than the little ones, leaner than the big ones. And they usually ask me why I keep on doing my calisthenics - haven't I got what I wanted yet?

And my answer is no, not really. I have two reasons why I punch gravity in the jumblies:

1) It gives me something I can control. I am a soul having an in-body experience. This is absolutely my territory, and no matter what happens to me, this is something that no employer, no government, no agency can take from me. If I, through will and discipline, can control this sack of chemicals - beat my body and make it my slave - then there exists the chance that I can extend my will further. I can touch other aspects of my life that may not be exclusively mine, maybe exert some influence and make things better.

2) One day, I'll have the guts to ask a girl out. It's not hard, really, I just lack initiative. But one day, I will, and hopefully she'll become my wife. And I realized, to my horror, that she will be punished with enduring me for the rest of my life. I figure, really, the least I can do for that poor, beautiful creature, is to give her something pretty to look at.

Why do I spend my days making gravity tap?

Because it's the only way I can see that leads me forward, no matter what.

[Lefeux]

I can understand how you feel. A few years ago I got divorced from a woman that I had spent 1/3rd of my life with. My career sucked. I was out of shape. If it wasn't for my dog, I might not have made it through that summer. I still think about her from time to time. A random memory, a passed birthday, a wonder of how my 3 (ex now I suppose) nieces and 2 nephews are doing, despite being happily married to a amazing woman.

As for what to tell people why you work out, a simple "It makes me a better person" might suffice. One the surface you are telling them that it makes you better physically, while on the inside, you know that it helped save your life, brought you back from the edge and makes you a better person emotionally/mentally.

Welcome back to NF. The blog features were disabled on the 30th or 31st of August, as an fyi.

Cheers

Rob