Why I Lift. in Whey and Sonic Screwdrivers.
- Nov. 1, 2022, 4:20 a.m.
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- Public
A: To get off the toilet when I’m 70.
2: To give the best piggyback rides.
D: To silence any physical and emotional inadequacy I might feel.
That’s about it.
I don’t know about you, but my Grandpa made a huge spectacle when he got out of his recliner. You know the loud groan followed by the slow slumping forward.
I was the second youngest in my grade. So in addition to having modest genetics, I was behind most of the kids physically. Growing up, in almost every situation where there required something moving, someone else would be asked. It becomes part of your identity. I’m small, I’d say.
Don’t make me drag up some olde entries demonstrating this.
I recall a 4th of July party at Erik’s. It was time to bring out the giant plywood plank of explosives. All the boys were volunteered, of course. And I took the heavy corner.
It’s not some dramatic moment. No ceremony. No “you’re the strongest guy here” acknowledgement. I just took the corner because it was acknowledged that I lifted, and that was that.
I get to be that guy.
Contrast that with guys in their 40s already complaining about their back or knees.
I won’t forget an offhand comment Erik made when he and some of his other friends were getting into that crap p90x fad. That I was the most in shape. It wasn’t a compliment or insult - just a fact.
A coworker asked me recently why I lift, and I feel like it came wrong. Or she was just being silly. I said how it’s nice knowing I can be relied on. So she’d bring over a jar and ask me to open it. (Um. Which I did, with some effort.)
I don’t know, I sensed a genuine, “I don’t get it” from her. Because I used to not get it.
Right before I started lifting, I recall thinking/feeling, “What’s the point of lifting weight? To lift more weight?”
Yes.
That’s it.
That’s it exactly.
And what I can’t fully express is how the rest of life feels lighter. What’s max effort but doable for someone else is just technique practice for me. My body moves in such a way, thanks to squats/deadz, that my lower back is always protected. Oh sure, my spinal erectors are strong as hell, but I still lift with my glutes.
And then there’s the life insurance facet. If you’re in a serious accident, all that built up lean body mass is a pool of protein for your body to pull from. I have no hard science for this but. Most people lose weight if they’re bedridden. You’re still burning calories, so where is the energy to live coming from?
Well, you got your fat stores, sure. That can be converted to blood sugar. But all that lean body mass? That can be converted to protein to aid in organ repair.
You will bounce back from being bedridden faster if you’re already in shape.
As far as the emotional regulation goes, it hits the mental checkmark of having “done” something. Roll out of bed, shower, go to work, go to bed, what did you do with your day? But if I get up and hit the gym, at least I’ve done something for me.
Eh. I’ll get this articulation down eventually.
In the mean time, here’s another ‘Trek meme for you.
Bonus:
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