Today's Questions Are Tomorrow's Answers
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Over my entire history, seldom did I drag myself to the gym unwillingly. It was not often I stood before the barbells and dumbbells with drooping shoulders and hesitation. And though I never felt like Superman, never did I question why I was about to fatigue myself and inflict hard work and pain upon my body. That's all behind me and has been for a long, long time.
I remember when I was a kid: no problem, the weights were playthings. You push, pull, toss, lift and grunt. Great fun. Clank, rattle; where's my wrench?
As a teen, lifting was like a sport to be played; you win, you lose, the days came and went and skipping a workout was no big deal. Let's see, should I lift weights or play stickball at the park?
One day -- who remembers when; it's all a haze -- I noticed guilt had taken up residence in my ever-present shadow, a nagging, smirking wise guy -- a jerk, really -- that made me irritable when I missed a workout, miserable if I was delinquent a week. Training became important, a thing I had to do, and the fun was leaking away. Almost anything became more desirable than the weights... studying Latin, changing the oil or cleaning the garage. Thank heaven there was no TV. I pressed on.
Then some raggedy habit took form and the walk to the weightroom became regular and labored and cheerless. It's lonely on this bench, under that bar and counting sets and reps. How many do I have to do today? The number was a pain in my head and completing the prescribed task before me was a dull feat. 20 (ugh), 19 more (aay), 18 (oof), 17 (urp).
"Will the workout ever end?" was my approach. The color around me was gray. This must be done, press on.
It wasn't long before anticipation, the kind with a sour puss, started hanging around with the guilt. Put these two thugs together and we have tension, nervous tension. Now is was not only hard work and lonely under the bar, it's tiresome and exhausting thinking about it, all day, at work, at lunch, on the road and in the sack. By the time I got to the gym, I'd been there, I'd done that. Not another rep! I'm beat. Push that iron.
Swell, but that's not enough. Besides feeling guilty for missing a workout I haven't missed and badgered by a workout I haven't hit, I'm feeling disappointed with the progress I haven't made. A mob is gathering in my shadow and I was just a skinny kid. We have Guilty Gus, Big Al Anticipation and the notorious Duke of Disappointment conspiring in the dark. Step aside, mutts, I'm using that squat rack.
Duty calls when you're still and listen to your soul. Taking the three pot-bellied bums down became my mission and I knew it -- the first sign of instinct, survival of the fittest, which plays no minor role in the muscle-builder's life. Instinct rules.
In this life you win, you lose or you crawl. It's not that I wanted to win, but I cannot lose and I will not crawl. Elementary, really, and I worked by elimination. I gathered from their focus on me that what I was focused on was very important and very good 'cuz they're so bad. Despite, or perhaps because of, the combined efforts of the gloomy threesome, I pressed on.
I discovered devotion and intensity.
Strangely, my shadow grew larger with my body and the three wise guys grew smaller. In time I replaced guilt with discipline, a stern but agreeable character. Negative anticipation submitted to positive preparation and psyching up, a pair of confident spirits with lofty goals. And disappointment, sour and ungrateful, left one fine day without a word. Like mistakes, the scoundrels taught tough lessons. Their departure was an unconscious relief, dirty snow and slippery ice slowly melting in the spring.
The walk to the gym became hurried, not soon enough, and excitement accompanied my footsteps. Miles were behind me and miles were ahead and somehow I knew the way. You never know the way unless you walk it and climb it, get lost, lose ground, grow cold, hungry and insist on walking again. Nobody can tell you, exactly, what, how and why; they can only offer their hopeful presence, wise suggestions and solid encouragement -- gold ore and uncut diamonds.
My word, what's the big deal? It's only lifting weights; it's exercise and good food. It's not life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Think twice. The train is leaving the station; the bombers are taking to the air.
So now where are we in my recollections? When did the pleasure of training settle in my bones? When I stepped back and realized its worth; when I resumed doing it for its adventure and immediate reward; when I trusted its permanence; when training was no longer an obligation, but a wise choice, a desirable means to eliminate barriers and overcome obstacles and to express myself without screaming for an hour or two, several times a week.
And it's no big ego trip to enjoy physical strength, endurance, reasonable confidence and a body that doesn't resemble a pear balanced precariously on two tooth picks. It's certainly no more ego than a long list of letters after one's name on a letterhead, a tattoo in the right place, a red Carrera in the driveway, a $1,000 suit or a shaved head.
It takes some time pressed together with considerable doubt, curiosity, pain and sacrifice to make the discovery, but it's worth it. To settle into your training with confidence is like sitting back in an easy chair, comfortable and relaxed.
Of course, the choir agrees, and loves to be reminded. How about you, whose T-shirts are getting snug and triceps are forming horseshoes?
Those who are relatively new (though proudly invested) and struggle to maintain their training balance, focus and zeal can reduce the less-than-delightful learning and growing curve by accepting today the precepts put forth on the well-shared pages of IronOnline. Trust, press on toward your sensible goal and put in your time with renewed enthusiasm, because it's happening and it happens no other way.
Consider how far you've come and imagine -- visualize with certainty -- where you want to go. The only thing that stands in your way is time and doubt. Time will pass, but doubt must be removed.
What you need to correct or alter in menu or exercise arrangement, attitude or workout intensity, you will surely attend along the way. Today's questions are tomorrow's answers. Mistakes and injuries are the instructors.
Be strong, keep your sense of humor, stay alert, be positive and hopeful, drink your protein shakes, be nice to your neighbor, squat, of course, and don't ruin your shoulders with heavy bench pressing. As far as it is possible, allow no unsightly gaps to develop in your eating scheme or your training thrust; they have a way of growing out of control and this is unbearable.
That you are aware of what you must do places you well above the rest. That you practice what you must puts you on top.
Let's taxi down the runway, bombers, and take off one by one in fine form until we fill the skies with roaring and fill our hearts with inspiration.
Go. You first, I'll follow... Draper
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