The Weight We Carry

It’s not the literal weight. Picking up and putting things down in the gym-that’s the easy part. The real heavy lifting comes outside the comfort of the weight room. 

I am no philosopher or psychiatrist. Just a guy that enjoys learning from them in hopes of figuring this thing out. I know better than to think I ever will-but I am open for suggestions on how to navigate when life inevitably happens. 

For the record, I can’t stand the “fitness philosophers.”  Exercising isn’t supernatural. it’s showing up. You’re not a lion or Socrates, stop it. That’s not what this is about. 

An early mentor of mine said the squat is a metaphor for life: It’s hardest when we are at our lowest. Even as you rise it is going to try and push you back down-if you let it. But every time you stand back up, you get better at standing back up. Literally and figuratively.

For the record, I am not a strong squatter. But that’s not really the point-though it is one of my       favorite lifts, despite sucking at it. 

For as long as I can remember, the gym has been my sanctuary. A place free from the noise of the real world. Surrounded by others carrying their own unseen weight- just trying to find a little peace in the process. 

“A man who views the world the same at thirty as he did at twenty has wasted thirty years of his life.”-Muhammed Ali.

As I get older, I just want to see people overcome what they’re facing-unless they are genuinely bad people. Then I just want them to stay out of our way. 

Hell if I have any of the answers. I’m just a man walking through this life, trying to make the people I love smile. And Imma keep hitting those damn squats! 

We are all one.